At this stage Skye the parakeet pretty much has the run of the house. It doesn’t bother him that Ambrose, the porky Jack Russell, also has the run of the house. The world exists in three dimensions for Skye and Jura. They have all the floor space and when wee Ambrose comes along looking for some flighty feather meat to chew, they simply take to higher ground and rapidly gain air superiority and begin their dive-bombing offensive on the little tubby terrier. At one time Ambrose actually thought he had the upper hand, and for a short while he did. Both of the birds had their wings clipped, and had to trust their legs to dodge the senile teeth of the chubby beast. Those days are all over now, but Ambrose still barks as much as he can in the hope that one day they will dutifully obey him and let him eat them.
Jura is a little more of a home bird. She is so bad that she won’t even come down to the sink when I am doing the dishes for a wash. Every now and then she will let me perch her on my finger, but she still prefers her cage; not in the cage – she likes being on her cage. Every Saturday morning I open up the roof of their cage and Skye heads out for the day, usually tormenting Ambrose from his fridge-top fortress. Jura waits until lunchtime, when the sun through the kitchen window hits the top of her cage, when she can begin her sunbathing routine. Skye knows by now that he is not allowed to annoy her when she is busy sunning herself. Recently she has taken to lifting millet stalks and belting him with them. They make such a lovely couple.