Box of Feathers.

I love birds.

I especially love parakeets.

I once had a nesting pair and ended up with 25 birds in two cages in my bedroom.

That first clutch of eggs was so exciting. I remember peeking into the nesting box now and then over the several weeks' gestation, checking on Suzy sitting on 6 eggs. It was like a Science Project. When the eggs started to hatch it was so enormous, like little whispers happening, new life coming into the world, and it was happening in a cage in my bedroom.

Those naked babies were amazing, humming in that wooden box, snuffling at first, then the faintest of prip prip, then the all out CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP! The bigger they got the louder they got.

But they grew charmingly, sprouting all different color of feathers, two were white, two were yellow, a blue one and a green one. The loudest one was a pure white bird who I named Margaret, after my sister. I named them all. Oliver. Pierre. Sirrus. Once they had names they became family.

Suzy had another clutch of eggs, and then another. The older she got the fewer the eggs she would lay, and from the last clutch the birds that came of it were small and weak. I even think one was a little bit retarded, he walked in endless circles on the bottom of the cage, like a blinker left on, and he didn't live for long.

Eventually, Suzy died, and her mate Jimmy died, and then the babies grew up and either they died or I gave them away, to friends or the pet shop, but I kept one or two for company and as keepsake of the Science Experiment, and when they died I buried them, washed out the cages and put the bird stuff away.

I didn't have another bird for many years.

Last August, feeling lonely and a little down, realizing the need for the sound of another live thing in my rooms with me, I bought a parakeet.

I named him August, and call him Gus. He is white and light blue, and I purchased him because, in the big clear plastic walled cage at Petco where he lived with all the other birds, he was doing antics on a perch, turning himself upside down and inside out, in, around, over and under that perch. He enchanted me.

Gus came home with me and sat in his cage, frightened at first, and then terribly lonely, for several weeks. He needed a friend, he was so obviously depressed.

I called my young friend Caroline and on one November Tuesday we went together, back to Petco, to look for a buddy for Gus.

We approached the bird cage in Petco and began our determination of who would be the most suitable companion for Gus. We walked around and around the cage for 30 minutes, debating the attributes of this one versus that one. Color, personality, finesse, all attributes were considered. Finally, deciding on a bold green and yellow number full of strut and gumption, we called over the Petco person and pointed out our choice.

Getting that bird out of that cage was like a hat game on the Jumbotron at a ballgame, trying to keep an eye on which one he was amidst the flutter and feather of the agitated birds when the attendant put his hand into the cage. Green and Yellow bird seemed impossible to be caught, he darted, ducked and dodged, he was one tough guy to catch.

On the way home, Caroline and I named him. Tough Guy Buddy, T.G. Buddy. I mostly just call him Buddy now.

These days they are moulting and dropping many of their most downy feathers, feathers that stick to your fingers when you pick them up. I keep a little Macy's box next to the cage to keep the feathers in. It is a beautiful surprise every time I open it and see the feathers of Gus and Buddy inside, chest feathers that are jewels of soft diamond white, Gus blue, Buddy yellow, emerald green. Cheek feathers that are miniscule with a black dot. Wing feathers, strong and tight. There are no tail feathers yet, but when they come they will be long and straight, dark green and black. They are all beautiful feathers, and I save as many as I want to.

Today I added to my box of feathers, and I think, there is a color missing. The missing color is dark blue.

I am going to Petco this afternoon, I am looking for Seamus.