Bert and Ernie

The owners of the house I stay in have been gone for a few days, and my roommate--who's interning with IUCN in Hanoi this Summer--was off at a meeting and mangrove walk on the Red river delta. So I was left to care for Bert and Ernie. Unfortunately I've failed. Bert and Ernie are two birds, quite different from each other, who have been part of the household for about a month and a half now. Keeping birds is kind of a thing here in Viet Nam, people often bring their birdcages out and hang them in the tree braches along the streets. I'm never sure whether this caged communion with nature is a monstrous practice or a kind one. Ernie is small, bright lime green with a yellow throat and grey belly. He eats copious amounts of food and manages to entertain himself by doing vertical 360 degree flips in his tiny bamboo cage. Once in a while he sings quite beautifully. All in all, as caged birds go, he seems pretty happy. Bert on the other hand was clearly distressed from the moment he got to the house. He spends much of his average day flapping around in his cage, jumping to the "ceiling," and banging his head against the cage. He has managed to remove most of the little feathers from the top and sides of his head, and he seems to have two perma-bloody spots on either side of his face--I'm not up on my bird anatomy but I think it might be his nostrils. Bert is kind of a plain looking bird--brown and grey--he looks like he could be found anywhere. Yesterday was a quiet day at home, I opened the windows (the cages live next to them) and watched movies in the afternoon, I fed and watered the birds and Bert seemed to actually be having a good day. I think he was enjoying the lack of people coming in and out of the room--and because I didn't turn the air-conditioning on all day I didn't move their cages. (We fear air-conditioning may have caused the death of the last pet bird so we never leave them in a room with the AC on). Bert was singing a lot yesterday and he wasn't banging his head at all. Today I gave both the birds a bath, even though Bert is only supposed to get a bath once every three days and it had only been two, I figured he wouldn't mind. Bert's bath involves filling a plastic tub with water in the shower and lowering his wire cage into the tub so that the bottom few inches of it are submerged. He seemed to enjoy his bath as usual. I thought I would let the base of the cage air dry before putting the plastic "poop-catcher" tray which was lined with fresh newspaper back under the cage, as I didn't want it to get wet. No problem right? It turns out Ernie was Harry Houdini's great-great-nephew, twice removed. When I returned from grocery shopping I put the tray under the cage (it clips onto the bottom bars and the legs of the cage elevate the whole thing a few inches). I suddenly realized the cage was sans bird. And I had left the window open. Hmmmm. At first I couldn't believe it, but I had pet rats as a child and I remember a particularly scarring experience involving my friend's large corn snake and a heating grate--I know that seemingly large animals usually fit through seemingly small holes. After looking in disbelief at the impenetrable wire cage with its closed door for a few seconds I noticed that the wires that form the cage base are spaced further apart than the wires on the sides. Then I noticed that the sidemost wire at one edge of the cage bottom was suspiciously bowed. Bert had flown the coup. I think in the end I'm actually quite happy for him, which makes me feel strange that it happened on my watch. I'm concerned that he won't make it out there in the world, particularly if he was raised in a cage from birth (this is supposed to be the case, but I don't think his behavior around humans reflects this). I hope he knows how to catch worms and bugs and fend off mean birds. He's not exactly going to do well in the mating game, with his self-induced buzz cut. Who knows, he may not even have made it this long (a few hours) considering he hasn't had much opportunity to keep his flying muscles in shape. I like to think he's been planning this for some time. That at night and when he's been alone in his bath he's been gradually widening that spot at the base of his cage, and that his calm yesterday was in light of the fact that he felt freedom to be imminent. I wouldn't put it past him. He also ate all of his food before he left. Usually he eats very little. He certainly doesn't finish off a day's food by early afternoon. But I suppose he needed strength for his journey. If I were Bert I would fly beyond the tall buildings and traffic out past the borders of the city, and stay far from humans for rest of my life. But nonetheless, I'll be keeping my eyes to the sky, hoping to see a bald brown bird that doesn't fly quite as well as his fellows.