We can all have a bad day from time to time. And that can even go for parrots like me. After all, my ancestral roots stretch back to deepest Senegal. I’m not suited to these dark, drab November days. Here in North Devon it seems to rain and rain, and then rain again! All fine for frogs but punishing for parrots!
And then every morning, my human family appear and turn on their “talking machine” which unleashes a torrent of wretched news from all around the world. Humans seem to avoid good news; they’d much rather make themselves feel depressed, and this “talking machine” duly obliges. And as if that wasn’t enough, the other day, the builders reappeared with their digging machine which trundled menacingly past my window. And I’m sure it was secretly hoping to scoop me up! It all proved too much for me. It was one of those days when I just wanted to hide away from the world. And that’s exactly what I did for a while. I went and hid in my owner’s shoe.
