Have you ever heard a Cockatoo scream? No? Don’t even know what that might sound like, you say? Consider yourself lucky. This afternoon I drove all the way to Augusta to be screeched at, incessantly, by Sarah the male Cockatoo. That’s right: Sarah the MALE Cockatoo. It's a long story....about his name, about the fact that he’s had five homes to date and about how I came to be standing in his very tiny kitchen while Mr. Sarah put on quite a show for me.
Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? I’m a budding photographic talent and I like to take any opportunity to practice my craft. A friend of a friend told her sister about me when the sister was discussing the need for a photographer to take shots for a calendar for the vet practice where she works. Voila! I am now the appointed photographer, working gratis, hauling my buns all over the place to photograph dogs, cats, horses, a bunny, a couple of guinea pigs and today....a male Cockatoo named Sarah in Augusta. In all honesty, it’s been pretty fun and I’ve had the chance to work on my indoor photography skills, using my external flash and three different lenses and that’s an extra bonus. Have I mentioned that I’m deathly afraid of cats? No? Well I'll just have to cover that in another blog...probably one about nightmares...but for now, I’ll stick to the screeching bird.
About the best thing the owner of said bird told me when I walked in the door and noted Sarah was out of his cage and clinging to a perch while bouncing up and down was, “He doesn’t know how to fly.” Thank GOD, thought I as I reached into my camera bag with a trembling hand and one eye on the loose bird. It was all down hill from there, I assure you. A quick peek around the closet-sized kitchen had me scrambling to figure out how the heck I was going to get any usable shots, what with the huge cage taking up half the room, several busy kitcheny things hanging on the walls and a lovely flourescent ceiling light shining terrible light right beside Sarah’s head. Oh...and Sarah is white....and so are the walls in this kitchen. No problem....I’m a miracle worker from way back. Just call me Mother Theresa!
As I readied myself to take a few test shots, I asked if Sarah would be afraid of the flash and I was assured that no, it shouldn’t bother him (sorry, but I can’t get used to calling Sarah a “him” By the time they figured out “she” was a boy it was too late to change the name). That’s just about the exact time that Mr. Sarah started to scream. I shouted out, “Jesus Christ!” pretty loudly because this screaming scared me well...shitless...as the saying goes. I cannot even come close to describing the paint-peeling shriek that is the cry of the Cockatoo. So I found a video of it on youtube for you. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTXLeL94DM0 Please, turn the volume on your computer all the way up before you play it. Even that won’t come close to what I endured, but you’ll get the general idea. And it goes on uninterrupted for like....at least a solid minute or even two before she...ooops....HE stops. “He’s happy!” said his owner. At least that’s what I think she said. I couldn’t hear much at that point since my eardrums had just been pierced by Mr. Shrieky Face Sarah.
“Ok, I can handle this,” I said after I scraped myself off the ceiling, and I just kept on shooting right through the noise. And then he stopped. Silence never sounded so good. But then he started bouncing. Yep, that’s right: bouncing. Up and down and up and down and up and down. He was dancing to music that only he could hear...and I was supposed to get clear, crisp photos of him while he was bobbing up and down like an idiot. Good, good.
Did I mention about all the distracting kitcheny things on the walls? And how about that lovely black metal cage and all of Mr. Screamy Pants’ wrought iron perches messing up every shot? And the lighting?? Talk about a challenge for a relatively new photographer, working out of her comfort zone (inside vs. outside) in a small space with a very scary creature who’s loose and could peck me to death at any moment. And remember, I'm doing this for FREE. What the hell was I THINKING signing up for this??
At about that very moment, Sarah’s owner mentioned not to get too close to him because Cockatoos are known to slash faces. SLASH FACES??!!! I feverishly unscrewed my macro lens and put on my zoom. I wasn’t about to get in THIS bird’s face. But...Sarah must’ve liked having me so close to him trying to get my shots because as soon as I put my zoom lens on and backed up several feet (bumping into a wall. Did I mention how small this kitchen was??), he started to scream again. Yet another colorful swear word or two escaped my lips before I could catch myself. I couldn’t HELP it! He screams so loud and right out of the blue. And the whole time he’s screeching, his owner is shouting over him that “He’s happy! He’s excited!” Oh, goodie goodie...as long as Sarah's happy.
So I’m snapping away feverishly at this point, trying my best to get clear shots of this plain white bird against a plain white background without too much light blowing out the shots while he’s shrieking and bobbing up and down, while his owner is shaking a rattle and trying to get him to put his crest up. To be honest, Sarah has a really nice crest of feathers that, when fanned out around his bobbing, screaming head looks pretty stunning. So I started talking to him like I would a puppy: “Oh Sarah....you’re such a pretty bird! Show Auntie your crest, pretty Sarah!” It was all I could do not to throw up or pee my pants, but an artist must do whatever it takes to produce her art, right?
As if all of this wasn’t enough, Sarah decided I was too far away from him and he wanted to come over and “see” me, so he wiggled his way down off his perch and was almost to floor level when his owner started shouting, “Here comes the Dyson! Get back up on your perch right NOW, Sarah! I’m getting the Dyson!” What the.....? I’m thinking, “has this bird sent his owner off the deep end or what?!” whilst said owner squeezes behind me (leaving nothing between me and the razor-beaked, scissor-clawed Sarah, mind you), opens a closet door and drags out the....vacuum cleaner. This cannot be happening, right? Apparently the bird is afraid of the vacuum cleaner and usually all it takes is the threat of bringing out the Dyson to send Sarah clawing his way back up to his perch.
Once Sarah had gotten back up near the ceiling on his perch and I started to breathe again, his owner explained that Sarah has a history of attacking feet. (What was I thinking, wearing RED shoes today?!) Apparently, a couple of owners back, Sarah lived with a man who wore work boots and when Sarah screamed his ass off, the owner would try and kick or stomp him with the those boots. Not that I should be alarmed. Or worried. Just keep that camera clicking!!
To sum things up, I was at Sarah’s house for about 25 painful minutes and took about 700 shots. Most of them aren’t usable but it only takes one good one to get what we need for the calendar. God bless Sarah’s owner, who also owns a bunch of other birds housed in various cages around the kitchen and living room (I didn’t dare venture past Sarah to take a look for fear that she’d slash my face or bite one of my toes off). I asked if he screams at night and she said, “Nope, he sleeps right through.” I don’t know how she has any hearing left at all, living with him. She did state with a bit of regret as she showed me out that she should’ve warned me to bring ear plugs. Gee..you think?
Next up, I’ll be heading to Saco to photograph a leopard gecko. Sweet dreams to me tonight....
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