Calum Andrew Morrell

I am sitting at the desk in my home office. In my right hand nestles a Lamy Studio fountain pen in blackforest green, a colour that looks decidedly bland under artificial light but presents with a beautiful deep green sheen in natural lighting. The nib of the pen is gliding across a Rhodia A5 wirebound notepad with the faintest whisper of contact. BBC Radio 3 is emitting a symphonic caress by Sibelius. Behind me Vega (my male budgie) is chattering gently, constantly, as he and Lyra (my female budgie and Vega's closely bonded partner) edge their way towards a nap.

That last point is important. It doesn't matter that I have classical music playing softly, it could be heavy metal, or a TV program, or the soundtrack of a computer game, or the clacking of my typing - if there is any noise present, Vega will be chattering along with it. All that changes is the volume and intensity of his chatter. When he is actively playing it is more vociferous. When his head is nestling amongst his wing feathers for a nap, it will be gentle and timorous. In order to gain silence I must ensure silence in the room and not even this guarantees it. The only solution may be to go elsewhere.

I already knew all this. Last summer I reached fifty years of age and have kept budgies for most of my adult life. These two, Vega and Lyra - my fifth and sixth budgies, have only been with me since November last year and I chose to keep them in my home office as I want to be around them most of the time. I adore their chatter and even their periodic loud screaming does not phase me.

They are not afraid of me. They often sit in or on part of their cage which is close to me and chatter directly to me. Quite often when I have left the room and return 15 to 20 minutes later they will have remained where they were, waiting. If I take too long to return and they hear my approach at the far end of the hall, they will often issue a series of single, loud, chirps until I am back in the room and they relax again. Our daily co-existence makes it clear that they desire my presence almost as much as I do theirs - yet they are not hand tame. They will shy away from my hands, only occasionally giving my fingers the gentlest of nibbles, usually if I am holding a treat for them.

They enjoy freedom of access to this room (they chose to fly around it just as I wrote that!), remaining locked in their cage only through the night or if I will be away from home for a period of time that would leave me anxious they may have got into difficulty and need my assistance. They have not yet required my help to recover from any fall or collision. When Lyra collided (gently, thankfully) with the window and fell onto the bed below it, she just took a few seconds to look about before flying back to the cage and beginning to preen. On each occasion Vega has fallen down the back of the cage, he has simply climbed back up and continued playing. The third time he found himself down the back Lyra gave an evil little laugh and then said "oh dear" - not even this phased Vega.

I fear I may have lightly skipped over a small point. Budgies can scream - and they will. This is a loud continuous cocophony that nothing about their size will suggest should even be possible. Do not misunderstand me, it is very, very loud. They may scream if there's not enough food (check their food dish regularly), if they want attention (talk to them gently every chance you get), if they're tired (check for distractions that may prevent them napping), if another budgie has chased them away from food or a toy (uhm...) or perhaps if they just feel like it (uhm...). The only thing I can say for certain is that they will.

In addition to the screaming, don't forget they can fly and, as I have mentioned, my budgies enjoy the freedom of the room. Their flights can be moderately slow and gentle, but they probably won't be. Of my two, Vega in particular enjoys practicing flying as fast as possible making precise, sharp, landings. He will do this over and over to ensure he can do it without effort. This means there is regularly a small greeny-blue missile screaming his way past my head - for they typically scream as they fly - and regularly clipping my head with his wing. This appears to be deliberate as he will regularly "buzz" me whilst I sit at the desk, my back to their cage. When I turn around to talk to him during one of these sessions, for he often does it a few dozen times in a row, he always manages to look so pleased with himself.

I never tell them off. For one thing it wouldn't make any difference, but the last thing I ever want is for them to become afraid of me. It takes a great deal of effort to gain the trust of such a tiny prey animal, but almost no time at all to lose it again.

With everything I've mentioned so far, remember that they are not yet hand tame. Once they are, it will be entirely their decision to sit on or near me. I will have no say in the matter. If one of them decides to sit on my hand as I write and argue with the pen, then that is exactly what they will do. If I have a headache and they choose to sit on my shoulder and scream into my ear, that is exactly what they will do. Budgies are very strong willed and I love them for it. Most of the time.

I haven't even mentioned the mess they will inevitably make, and I'm not going to. I will leave the delights of a flying defecating machine to your imagination.

It is often said that having a parrot, for budgies are parrots, is like having a 3yr old that never grows up. Yet parrots can live for a very long time. Larger parrots like macaws can live as long as a human and even a small parrot like a budgie can reach a couple of decades. With good care a healthy budgie should live into its teens.

This may be a small species, but it is no small commitment.