Bringing a pet into your life, especially for a child, is often envisioned as a manageable, perhaps even passive, addition to the family. For my parents, gifting me a budgerigar for my seventh birthday was likely a way to fulfill my desire for a companion without the significant demands of a dog or cat. They probably envisioned a quiet, contained creature that wouldn’t require constant attention. However, the lutino budgerigar who joined our household, whom I christened Brighton Yellow with the earnestness only a seven-year-old can possess, was anything but ordinary. He was a vibrant personality, a feathered whirlwind who refused to be confined to his cage, and a testament to the truth that pets can bring far more than you ever bargain for. My experience with Brighton taught me the unique joys and unexpected complexities of owning a highly intelligent and interactive bird. Discover more about exotic birds.
Brighton was an unusually intelligent bird, perpetually seeking novelty and stimulation. Once my patient father had invested the time to tame him – making him comfortable enough to perch on hands and even tolerate a gentle boop on his feathered head – Brighton transformed into a miniature parrot, often riding on my shoulder. The moment I returned home from school, he would vocally demand his release from the cage. He’d then accompany me around the house, a constant, chattering companion.
His vocalizations were incessant. He mastered an uncanny imitation of my mother’s calls for my brother and me to put on our shoes. During my parents’ dinner parties, he’d interject with a clear, “Right! That’s enough!” And each night, as we attempted to cover his cage, he would greet the darkness with increasingly desperate, “Good morning! Good morning!” until he finally resigned himself to sleep.
I dedicated countless hours to teaching Brighton various tricks. With my parents working hard, the time between finishing school and dinner became a shared world of gossip and play for Brighton and me. I’d confide my troubles to him, and he’d respond by tilting his head and uttering, “Oh dear” – or, more often, some unrelated phrase he had picked up.
One of my proudest achievements was teaching him to play football with a small, bell-filled ball. He would enthusiastically chase it with his beak while I flicked it with my fingers. I even trained him to exclaim, “Gooooal!” when he managed to nudge it through the miniature goal I’d fashioned for him. For those who doubt the cognitive abilities of budgies, there are numerous videos of budgies playing basketball that offer compelling evidence of their capacity for learned behaviors.
Tragically, Brighton’s burgeoning football career was overshadowed by his complete lack of aerial prowess. For a bird, he was a catastrophically incompetent flyer, his wingbeats a chaotic flailing in unpredictable directions. On one terrifying occasion, I had to quickly intervene when he tumbled into a soup pot on the stove, thankfully cold. Another time, my dad’s reflexes saved him from a fiery fate, catching him mid-air like a feathery baseball as he careered towards the lit fireplace. Despite these near-fatal incidents, Brighton defied the odds, living much longer than the typical budgie. He eventually became a senile little fellow, often muttering to himself and sporting one of his cage toys like a jaunty hat perched over his eyes. If you’re curious about other bird breeds, you might find information on Indian Ringneck birds interesting.
Shortly after celebrating his 10th birthday, just before I turned 17, I moved out of my family home. Brighton passed away only a week later. I remain convinced it was from a broken heart. Naturally, his loss devastated me. I never acquired another bird, not solely because I now have cats, but because I genuinely believe no other budgie could ever live up to Brighton Yellow’s legendary status. However, for those considering a smaller avian companion, exploring options like pink budgies might offer a different, though perhaps less individually dramatic, experience.
