My Neighbor’s Bird Has All The Answers
My neighbor Tom’s crazy parrot, Cheez Doodle, lives on his gutters. Not in the house, not in a cage. This red-headed bundle of annoyance lives 24 hours a day on his aluminum gutters. That’s where you’ll find her— at night, during the day, in rainstorms, in snowstorms. Even in hailstorms.
Tom climbs his ladder each morning to pour bird food into his gutter for this brainy-wannabe bird. Which is fine. I’ve got no problem with that. As long as it’s not raining, the gutter works well as a food trough. Good for her, good for them.
And sure, she’s beautiful. White cheeks, red head, with blue, green, black and yellow feathers on the wings and tail. Holy cow, she’d win beauty contests if she decided to take that path.
But here’s the thing. When I’m outside working on my property and Tom isn’t around, Cheez Doodle scrutinizes my life. Only my life. She doesn’t bother Tom’s neighbor on the other side where he’s got perfectly comfortable gutters. And she doesn’t say a thing when my fiancé Kathy is around.
No, Miss Colorful aims her brown eyes on me, criticizing my battery-powered lawn mower. Or taunting me about the neighbor dogs who pee on my mailbox. Or harping about the tire track my neighbor’s son left in my yard when he drove off with the family truck.
“You don’t stand up for yourself, Pole,” she tells me.
Five years of this.
I can live with a little discoloration of the grass around my mailbox or a thin track of mud in the front yard. These problems aren’t worth a falling out with my neighbor or a battle with the UPS. And they sure aren’t life-threatening.
As Kathy and I make preparations to put our house on the market, things between Cheez Doodle and I grow tenser.
For instance, I bring home vinyl gutters to install around the house. As I begin to unload them from my truck, Doodle says, “Aluminum gutters are far superior to vinyl gutters.”
“How much time have you spent on vinyl gutters?” I ask.
“I know gutters,” she says.
This from a parrot who couldn’t find food beyond her gutter if I parked a dump truck full of bird seed in my driveway. Forage for food? Laughable.
“I bet you’ve never even seen a vinyl gutter until I pulled into the driveway.”
She starts preening.
I hate when she does this — always when I make a point she can’t disprove. Totally passive-aggressive.
She started to preen like this after I complained that Kathy grooms herself when we argue. Which rarely happens by the way. But it did happen last summer when she suggested we trim the bushes on Tom’s side of our house. I wanted them to grow taller. I didn’t tell her that taller bushes might block Cheez Doodle’s view of our yard and dampen her critical eye. Because I’ve never told Kathy about my problems with Cheez Doodle.
As we went back and forth on the height of the bushes, she started brushing her hair. In the end, she said, “I need to apply highlights,” and retreated to the bathroom.
Anyway, can you even imagine Cheez Doodle trying to install gutters? Doubtful she could handle a hammer much less a cordless drill. She’d try to plug the drill in and be like, “Where’s the cord?” Or she’d do her typical dodge: “Why’d you buy such a cheap drill?”
This is what I’m dealing with.
I admit, though, I like her owner, Tom. We watch big sporting events together on his big screen. Drink a few beers, chill out. And best of all, Cheez Doodle stays outside on the gutter. By herself. I haven’t mentioned the problems I’m having with Cheez Doodle to Tom either. Why ruin a friendship over an ornery parrot?
But I’ve come close to saying something.
I manage to get the first 10-foot section of vinyl gutter installed and she says, “They’re too flimsy. They’ll warp. They’ll leak. They’ll ruin your curb appeal.” She doesn’t quit. “They’re stupid. You’re stupid. You’re an idiot.”
A couple good points followed by personal attacks. When have personal attacks ever solved a problem?
“I’m the idiot?” I say. “And this coming from a cockatoo.”
She glares at me. She’s actually an eastern rosella and considers cockatoos to be too showy.
“First of all,” I say, “vinyl gutters are cheaper. Second of all, they’re easier to install. And third of all, if you put them up correctly, they’ll last a reasonably long time. Only professionals say they suck. They want you to hire them to install thick aluminum gutters that will outlive the planet. Do you think my house needs to outlive the planet?”
She doesn’t know crap about cosmology. Ask her how old the earth is and she’ll start preening.
“As for curb appeal, “ I say, “did you happen to notice the Japanese red maple in my truck?”
She turns to look in the opposite direction.
“Tell me about curb appeal after I plant that beauty and get a million offers on the house,” I say.
She pecks at her food in the gutter — doesn’t appear to eat a thing — then glances in the direction of my truck. Stubborn bird.
I ignore her. I install the vinyl gutters and plant the maple tree. The two projects take me eight hours.
Over the next few days, we have some light rain and the gutters work as advertised. Case closed.
But the case isn’t closed. The following week we’re hit with Tropical Storm Moron. Within the first hour, one of my downspout extensions careens into my foundation. Water piles up next to the house.
I brave the storm to replace the extension but it blows away, as do the other extensions. The downspouts come loose too.
I hear Cheez Doodle say, “Aluminum gutters never do that. Never ever.”
She could be right, I realize. Tom’s gutter system remains solid. Despite the storm, Cheez Doodle looks as secure and relaxed as ever over there.
Right or not, though, it’s an insensitive thing to say while I struggle to save my downspouts.
I make it back to our porch without injury.
The rain continues to fall, hour after hour, and the water level rises around our house.
By morning the house begins to shake. Then lift off the ground. We start to float down the driveway.
Why didn’t I secure those damn downspouts better? And I should have buried the extensions in trenches from the downspout to the street. That would have done the job.
And, yet, I notice we’re floating smoothly toward the street. Maybe this is a blessing. We plan to move after the wedding anyway. Why not get it over with now? Then we can focus our attention on planning the wedding.
What could be more sensible than that?
I stand on the porch with a firm grip on the railing. I look over at Cheez Doodle. What grace that bird has. How many parrots do you know can remain perched on a gutter for 24 hours in torrential rain and 50 mph winds? The bird has talent. I’ll give her that.
We float past our mailbox — without damaging it— and into the street proper. Cheez Doodle appears as cocky as ever, though— this is about her gutter victory. Not willing to give an inch.
I raise my hand and wave as we pass Tom’s house. Oh my God, she’s preening — the most stubborn bird in the world. She can’t bring herself to say a simple “Bye” or “Goodluck” or “It was nice knowing you.” Nothing.
She’ll miss me. She’ll miss me like crazy. Preening, ha. I don’t care, she can preen all she wants. We’re outta here.
She makes her way to the gutter along the front of Tom’s house as we head down the street. I see her peck at a shingle as if she’s pounding a nail.
We make it to the end of the block. I try waving again, then switch to vigorous double-handed waves. I almost fall off the porch trying to get her attention. Why won’t she acknowledge me?
I can still make her out as we leave the block. Her brilliant coloration stands out like a light tower.
Then the miracle happens. We’re floating away, making excellent time, and nearly out of the view of Tom’s house. Kathy starts to brew some coffee, I’m about ready to come in from the porch, and what do I see? Cheez Doodle takes flight. Her first flight, as far as I know. The wind and rain have no effect on her. She’s in total control as she heads straight for us.
She lands on our vinyl gutter, plonk, not ten feet from me. She doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t need to. Standing tall against the storm, looking strong and perky — breast out, beak up, eyes wide — she’s happy as hell.
I smile. I can’t help it. I mean, who’s scoffing at vinyl gutters now?
No, but seriously, I knew it all along.
When we get to our new place, I take Kathy with me to get some bird seed, and I tell her the whole story about Cheez Doodle. No secrets. I do the same with Tom. We have a two-hour heart-to-heart conversation over the phone. What a cool, understanding guy.
I want everything to be perfect for us. I’m talking the rest of our lives together. The four of us — Kathy, Cheez Doodle, vinyl gutters, and me.
