Last Updated on by Mitch Rezman
The morning sun filtered through the blinds, rousing Jasper, the African Grey, from his pre-dawn nap.
He stretched a wing, his sleek grey feathers shimmering, and surveyed his domain. Penelope, the Hahn’s macaw, a fiery ball of red plumage, was already preening her crimson chest with a critical eye.
“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Jasper drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Up with the chickens again?”
Penelope squawked indignantly. “Chickens? I resemble that remark! Unlike some, I actually appreciate the beauty of a sunrise.”
Their squabbling was interrupted by a chirp from the highest perch. Pip, the cockatiel, a tiny grey puffball with a bright yellow crest, fluttered his wings sleepily. “Is it mornin’ already? Must you two squawk so early?”
Jasper chuckled, a low rumble in his throat. “Just keeping Penelope on her toes, little one.”
Suddenly, the bedroom door creaked open. A hulking creature, bipedal and clumsy, lumbered in carrying a tray with two steaming bowls. “Good morning, my feathered friends!” boomed the creature, its voice a cacophony of sounds.
“Good morning, Harold,” Jasper replied, rolling his eyes. Penelope, however, puffed up her chest and squawked, “About time! A bird can’t wait all day for breakfast!”
Harold, the husband, chuckled, his booming laughter shaking the room. “Always the early bird, Penelope. Now, don’t worry, everyone’s breakfast is right here.”
He placed the bowls in the cage, one filled with a colorful mix of seeds and nuts, the other with a mash of fruits and vegetables.
Penelope eagerly dug into the seeds, her powerful beak making quick work of the shells. Jasper, with his more delicate beak, meticulously sorted through the mash, while Pip hopped between them, snatching a morsel from each bowl.
“There you go,” Harold said, patting the cage with a meaty hand. “Eat up, you beautiful creatures.”
Jasper scoffed. “Beautiful? We tolerate you for this slop, Harold. You’d best refill the water dish before it runs dry again.”
Harold, oblivious to the sarcasm, beamed. “Of course, of course. My little feathered overlords shall have their every need met.” He refilled the water dish and lumbered out, leaving the cage door slightly ajar.
Penelope, with a mischievous glint in her eye, nudged the door with her beak. “Well, fellas, what do you say? Shall we explore our human’s domain while they’re distracted?”
Jasper smirked. “Intriguing idea, Penelope. Perhaps we can ‘accidentally’ knock over that vase they seem so fond of.”
Pip chirped excitedly. “Oh, yes! And maybe I can finally reach the top shelf with the shiny buttons!”
With a flurry of feathers, the three birds scrambled out of the cage, ready for a morning of harmless chaos.
After all, what’s a life of luxury without a little feathery rebellion?
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