Millie the Maxi's
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Millie is a maximilian pionus. She was hatched on July 3, 1999 at Queen Pride's Aviary in Texas, and joined our family in October of that year, flying up from San Antonio to Hartford, Connecticut (in a plane, of course!)
The scientific name for maxi pionus is pionus maximiliani, which is what inspired Millie's name. She is my maxi, Millie Ani.
Millie is a perpetual toddler. She gets into things that would never occur to the older birds. She has stripped every leaf off of my ficus tree, disassembled two computer mouses (mice?), pulled the pop top off of soda cans that were sitting on the kitchen counter, ripped through bags of hot dog rolls to get at the bread inside, and learned how to turn off the den light switch, plunging the family into darkness, she's stuck her head down the garbage disposal (looking for God knows what), and had a brief venture into a life of crime. The day I found my missing wallet in the bottom of her cage, I wasn't sure who to blame, since Pious and Gaelie also venture into Millie's cage in search of better food than they have in their own cage. I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. The next morning, as I sat at the computer, I heard Millie venture up into what's left of the ficus tree. I finished typing the sentence and turned around, and there was mighty Millie, waddling quickly across the back of the couch toward her cage with my daughter's watch hanging out of her mouth. I retrieved the watch and set it down, then watched as Millie hurried back to the dresser to pick up Katie's glasses.
But it's hard to stay mad at Mills. She seems to have a good sense of when it's time to turn on the charm, and will come over to rest her head against my chest, making little squeaking noises until I start to scratch her head for her. I had been told that maxi's are the most affectionate species of pionus. Millie bears that out. She will wait until after Pious puts herself to down for the night, then flutter over to where I'm curled up on my bed and waddle over to my hand and nestle her head under my hand, demanding to be pet. We both appreciate our quiet time.
Millie's other way of expressing her affection is typical of parrots. In the wild, a parrot will court its intended by regurgitating food as a token of its affection. Eye contact is made, the head begins to bob, and the next thing you know, there's breakfast, come up for a second look. Not long after I got Millie, I developed a hacking cough: my head would bob and my hand would go to my mouth. Millie clearly understood that this was my way of saying that I loved her, and, ditiful child that she is, would regurgitate in kind. To this day, all I have to do is nod vigorously to get Millie to demonstrate her love for me.
It's occured to me that maybe Millie needs a younger sister to distract her. After all, Pious and Gaelie are very close and Millie tends to be the odd man out. Maybe if she had a feathered friend, she'd help keep Millie distracted and out of trouble. Either that or Millie would lead her into a life of crime. Either way, I'm going to find out. I'm on a waiting list with the Queen's for a female blue head, and they've recently sent word that their blue head hen, Ellen, has begun to lay eggs, so I'm hoping my next baby will arrive this summer. I'll let you know....