Bird, Meet Vet
The vet's front office needed a name for the bird ("You can change it").
"Um...Dexter."
I've always liked the name Dexter, although apparently I've named my(?) cockatiel after a serial killer.
(There's also a Dexter in Star Wars, and one of Dexter's interpretation is fortunate, which he was, in that he was not eaten by a bobcat.)
So, it's a cute name. I don't know if it'll stick. I'm kinda fresh out of creative names, and this little kidlet hasn't displayed much personality (he does shy away from people...much like Dexter in the one episode I saw).
He loved the car ride - I just stuck his little cage in the front seat. He climbed onto his food dish, stared out the window, and beeped/cheeped throughout it. When I took him into the empty office, I left him partially covered on the bench to go fill out his paperwork, stepping briefly out of his line of sight...MISTAKE...he started calling and calling until I came back and showed him I was still there. :) So, we can't say the little dude doesn't know who feeds him.
Avian vet (!!! those are tough to find, and right down the street, too!) was a very nice guy and gave Dex a clean bill of health; we just need to worry about fattening him up, as he was very definitely starving.
"He's not very friendly," I said as the vet tried to get him out.
He scooped him up in a towel and promptly made him into a taco. "Actually, he's pretty nice," he said. "He's squirmy, but he's not trying to bite."
He did a blood test, gave him a physical and clipped his wing feathers (painless, and they grow back; unclipped wings is how he got out in the first place). He scratched his head a bit; Dex actually seemed to enjoy it, until he remembered he was still stuffed into a taco and got indignant over it. He also had some healing trauma on his breastbone and right foot. He's in the middle of a nasty molt and it looks like the top of his head got plucked. And apparently he's a grownup bird, though how old the vet can't say.
I picked him up some pellets and a toy at the bird shop next door and took him home. I had to make up a few hours at work, so I did that and had him out...aside from trying to get to the window (to get out? because it's bright? who knows), he sat on my hand for a bit, and then on top of his cage, and then on my lap. He's still fearful of everything. I don't know how much of this is PTSD and how much is the sort of background he came from...I don't think he was abused or anything, but maybe he was just ornamental...?
He does like to eat when I eat (if I bring some cereal to the computer, for example, he'll munch at his food dish next to me).
Other name possibilities: Loki, Spike (crest...get it?), Jango, Eomer (I <3 Karl Urban, plus he's scruffily cute like Eomer), and...that's it...I don't know. He's definitely a dude, as the vet confirmed. Maybe as he shows more personality the naming process shall be easier.
In the meantime, the wee bird is sleeping, and so shall I.
"Um...Dexter."
I've always liked the name Dexter, although apparently I've named my(?) cockatiel after a serial killer.
(There's also a Dexter in Star Wars, and one of Dexter's interpretation is fortunate, which he was, in that he was not eaten by a bobcat.)
So, it's a cute name. I don't know if it'll stick. I'm kinda fresh out of creative names, and this little kidlet hasn't displayed much personality (he does shy away from people...much like Dexter in the one episode I saw).
He loved the car ride - I just stuck his little cage in the front seat. He climbed onto his food dish, stared out the window, and beeped/cheeped throughout it. When I took him into the empty office, I left him partially covered on the bench to go fill out his paperwork, stepping briefly out of his line of sight...MISTAKE...he started calling and calling until I came back and showed him I was still there. :) So, we can't say the little dude doesn't know who feeds him.
Avian vet (!!! those are tough to find, and right down the street, too!) was a very nice guy and gave Dex a clean bill of health; we just need to worry about fattening him up, as he was very definitely starving.
"He's not very friendly," I said as the vet tried to get him out.
He scooped him up in a towel and promptly made him into a taco. "Actually, he's pretty nice," he said. "He's squirmy, but he's not trying to bite."
He did a blood test, gave him a physical and clipped his wing feathers (painless, and they grow back; unclipped wings is how he got out in the first place). He scratched his head a bit; Dex actually seemed to enjoy it, until he remembered he was still stuffed into a taco and got indignant over it. He also had some healing trauma on his breastbone and right foot. He's in the middle of a nasty molt and it looks like the top of his head got plucked. And apparently he's a grownup bird, though how old the vet can't say.
I picked him up some pellets and a toy at the bird shop next door and took him home. I had to make up a few hours at work, so I did that and had him out...aside from trying to get to the window (to get out? because it's bright? who knows), he sat on my hand for a bit, and then on top of his cage, and then on my lap. He's still fearful of everything. I don't know how much of this is PTSD and how much is the sort of background he came from...I don't think he was abused or anything, but maybe he was just ornamental...?
He does like to eat when I eat (if I bring some cereal to the computer, for example, he'll munch at his food dish next to me).
Other name possibilities: Loki, Spike (crest...get it?), Jango, Eomer (I <3 Karl Urban, plus he's scruffily cute like Eomer), and...that's it...I don't know. He's definitely a dude, as the vet confirmed. Maybe as he shows more personality the naming process shall be easier.
In the meantime, the wee bird is sleeping, and so shall I.