It is the general consensus of the household that we have a pair of Veloceraptors in our midst, masquerading as parakeets. Actually they are more like those little things that swarmed all over the girl on the beach, but no-one knows what they are called. Anyhow, I'll admit it, we created the monsters ourselves by allowing them prime position in the living room - master and commander of their 2-cage condo; one for sleep, play and launching at the sofa, the other for fine dining and ambushing the unwary. Like all parakeets they are noisy, scrappy and believe themselves to be 10-feet tall and bullet proof. With flick-knives. And Kalashnikovs.
Pinky & Perky (aka Kray Twins, Little BarStewards...) were donated by a local family some 6 months ago. They arrived pathetic and nervous in a shoe-box minus one complete set of wing feathers each, but were soon reveling in the joys of the BBR theme-park style open prison. They rapidly worked out that somersaults off the sofa didn't hurt and once on the floor, they could go absolutely anywhere!!!
Sitting quietly with my TV dinner on my lap and the omnipresent Chili snoring quietly under my chin, I realised there were 2 small green creatures tucking into my baked potato. Astounded at their impudence, I (and Chili) watched fascinated as they moved rapidly onto my ankle. Several chunks of flesh and much shaking of feet later, they divided forces; one moved onto that tasty bit of skin of the inner arm, whilst the other headed for the sofa and Jerry's eyeballs. Hmmm...
Ungrateful little barstewards.
They can't go into the aviary as they will bust through the wire in milliseconds (no, not on a motorbike, thank you) and a small-cage lock-down is not an option here (even though they more than deserve it). So it appears we are destined to be subjected to the nightly gnawing of the little green monsters until they can be permanently released. Of course, before that happens, they will have to learn to fly... Gulp.