Jerry, my 22 year old senegal parrot

Back in February '92 I rescued a canary yellow-vested senegal parrot named Barnie. He was living alone in a mud room, subject to icy drafts whenever family members opened doors, due to their daughter's allergies. They had rescued him from a relative who kept him in a basement. Yes, I believe his feathers were sooty. You couldn't see the soot, but the first day I had him, I nuzzled him a bit and whatever I inhaled from his feathers literally burned my sinuses and airways. He was mature; I have no idea how old he was or how long he'd lived like this. When I met him he didn't respond at all to the name Barnie. While left alone with him for a few minutes, I tried calling him Bennie instead. His eyes brightened and pupils started dilating and constricting. Bennie it was, short for Benedicite, my favorite choral piece.

Bennie was wildcaught. I was laid off that summer and spent the next 18 months or so free-lancing. Bennie would sit on the arched overhang of my desk lamp while I worked. Once I was hired back, he started picking at his chest feathers. I hadn't realized how bonded he'd become to me. A short time later, a juvenile senegal turned up in the local exotic bird store. I immediately brought him home and called him Jerry. I'll never forget the look he gave me when I opened the little box I'd brought him home in. To that point in my life, nobody had ever looked at me with such love. Ever. He reconciled himself to being Bennie's companion.

Bennie passed back in the spring of 2011 on the day of my blood banking final exam. After a horrific day, I came home to find him clinging to his perch with his eyes squeezed shut. I wrapped him in a towel and ran around taking care of all the animals. And then sat down and held him to my chest. He died about 5 hours later.

After some 20 years, Jerry's "job" as Bennie's companion was over, and now he lives free in the house during the day, free to fly to my shoulder pretty much whenever he likes.