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Welcome to Tales From The Beak! This is going to be the title of a forthcoming book. The names have not been changed to protect the not so innocent. Hey, I can dream, can't I? Well, back to reality. There have been some who have been asking Mother how I got my name. So I thought I would take this month's column and explain how it came about. When I was only 8 weeks old, Mother found me in the Paterson Bird Store. Mother commented, "What a fat little vegetable. He can't even perch yet." I looked up at her with these sad baby gray eyes and thought, "She looks like an easy mark, maybe I can con her into taking me home." Well, whatever I did, it worked. Mother thought I was the cutest little angel she ever laid eyes on. Of course, she hadn't a clue as to what sort of insect I really was.
When I arrived home, she quickly named me Zachariah. For heaven sake, that biblical name was 2 inches longer than I was! The first thing on my agenda was to figure out how to rid myself of that appellation. Mother was forever yelling at me. "Zachariah, get back on the playpen!" "Zachariah quit throwing peas in my counseling books!" "Zachariah, why do you insist on putting holes in everything!" Honestly, I think she got sick and tired of yelling my name, so she shortened it to Zac. The name Squiggles came about through an escapade I pulled off when I was about 6 months old. I lived in an apartment that was full of nooks and crannies. The living room was mostly a library. It was wall to wall bookshelves. I was minding my own business on my playpen, when I decided Mother needed some excitement in her life. I jumped off the playpen and onto the book she was reading. I accidentally on purpose tore the page. This was not a good thing to do! Mother told me it was time for me to go back in my cage. She never learns.....I know exactly what that means. I thought, "How dare she put me back in jail. I'm sick of this petty coat tyranny. It's time to teach her a lesson." I decided to run for my life and play hide and seek on the floor. I began running under the furniture and letting Mother almost catch me. Then I would high tail it in the opposite direction. Hey, Mother needed the exercise anyway. Well, I found this neat little crawl space between the 2 bookcases. Mother thought she cornered me. She tried to grab me and that's when I managed to squiggle in behind the biggest bookcase in the room. This was great! I managed to outwit Mother. There was just one little problem. I got stuck big time ! ! ! ! By this time Mother was saying all sorts of things under her breath. "Oh, sure, you would have to pick the largest bookcase to get stuck behind. It figures.....the bookcase with all the reference books.
You're more trouble than a bushel of monkeys." She tried moving the bookcase, but it didn't budge. She finally had to take every single book out of the case in order to move it and rescue me. Needless to say, Mother was not in a good mood that day and neither was I. I landed in the "Birdhouse" and was grounded there until I learned my P's and Q's, whatever those are.
You would have thought I'd learned my lesson. No way. There were places to go......places where no bird would go except Zac Squiggles. But that's another story.....
Last month, I left off telling you some of my ventures in getting my name. There were places to go, where no bird would dare go . . . except Zac Squiggles. There was the time I got stuck in the food bowl (Don't try this at home). Mother thought she had found a solution to my food throwing frenzies by buying me a covered crock bowl. Nice idea, but not practical for me. Actually, I hated that bowl. It was an ugly shade of purple and didn't match any of my cage accessories. It made eating a bore. I couldn't throw my food anymore. One day, I decided to play hide and seek and crammed myself into the crock bowl. When I say crammed, I mean crammed. I got stuck! I don't remember how long I was in the bowl, but it seemed like an eternity. Mother had just finished cleaning all the cages and as she sat down to rest, she glanced over to my cage and noticed that I was no where to be found. She thought I had escaped. She started calling my name and moving furniture. She was frantic! Mother finally looked through the back of the cage and saw me stuck in the bowl. She almost had to break the bowl to get me out, but she finally got a hold of my tail end and pulled me out. Hey, guess what? It was the last I saw of that ugly crock bowl!
Then, there was the day I was playing on the playpen. Mother was on the couch reading a book. I decided that the giant playpen with all its toys was boring, and I needed some excitement in my life. So I climbed down the playpen and onto that old couch. Come to think of it, I hated that old couch for no good reason. Anyway, I decided to pester Mother, you know, like chew a hole in her shirt, tear a page from her book, run up and down the couch screaming and attacking the seams. I was having the time of my life and being a real "pesterpot" as Mort would say. Mother finally had enough of my antics and told me I was going back in my cage. I thought NO WAY. I was having too much fun. So I ran and crammed myself into the corner of the couch as fast as my little legs could carry me. Just one problem, I slid down into the couch. Yes, you read it right. I fell down into the couch. Mother had reached over to grab me, that's when everything went black. I could hear Mother mumbling all sorts of things under her breath, trying to figure out how to get me out. She finally had to cut the back of the couch to rescue me. I looked like a filthy little dust bunny. Mother was quite upset with me ...I don't know why. She ended up $1.37 richer and she needed to get rid of that ugly couch anyway.
Well, all good things must come to an end, at least for a time. As you may have heard, I am going on holiday for a few months to God knows where. But don't worry... I'll be back. You can still write me in c/o the editor. THE END, FOR NOW.
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