Awhile back I posted about Zachary, the recalcitrant parrot who comes into my workplace on his owner's shoulder. Zachary has torn my unsuspecting fingers to near-shreds every time they've tentatively ventured his way. This disturbed me because, with the exception of a neurotic sheltie who was afraid of my long hair, I have yet to meet an animal, bird or beast, that didn't instantly love me. I considered this a challenge that we'd overcome together on an odyssey to friendship and mutual understanding. Well, fuck all that. At this point I have to admit that friendship with Zachary might not be in the cards. Last night when he came in (with his owner), I decided to take a different approach: stand aloof, don't crowd him, and just make gentle kissie noises at him. "Kiss-kiss-kiss" I kissed, keeping my hands on the outer edge of the counter, far from Zachary's murderous beak. My delight when Zack hopped down his owner's arm and across the counter towards me quickly evaporated into pants-pissing terror as his feathers puffed out, he let out a mighty squawk, leaped onto my hands and tore them to ground beef. Even as I pulled my hands away, he followed, on the attack. My co-worker had to swat him off me. It took four bandaids to cover the damage.
I don't normally use the word "can't" very much, but I think it's appropriate with regard to Zachary. I can't make friends with this vicious, deranged bird. I'm not even sure I want to.
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