Student_Voice : The bird in my hair

Ryu Aryn

The author is a student at Chadwick International in Songdo, Incheon.  

My bird is a small peach-faced lovebird named Rosie. One afternoon my mom let Rosie out and she was flying around comfortably, flapping her wings while I was watching a show on TV. Then Rosie flew over and landed on my shoulder.

“Rosie, move over,” I said, since she was blocking my view of the show. She just squawked and moved closer, leaning in to see what I was watching.

“Rosie, move!” I was starting to get impatient, but Rosie didn’t listen. Instead, she jumped closer to my face, and before I could react, she got tangled in my hair.

“Mom!” I shouted, stopping the show. My mom came over to see Rosie tangled in my hair, struggling to get out. I tried to untangle her, but Rosie kept twirling around, making my efforts hopeless.

When Rosie finally got free, her beak sharply poked my neck. The sudden pain felt like a clumsy nurse jabbing a big needle into me.

“Oww!” I shouted as I jerked up immediately. Then I realized what had happened: My lovely pet bird had bitten me.

As Rosie flew away and back into her cage, I thought: How could my pet attack me?

I glared across the room at Rosie. She couldn't have done it on purpose. Or maybe she did? I felt betrayed and confused. I wanted to know why it happened and if she even cared that she hurt me.

As the days passed, I kept wondering: Why?

I thought about the time an annoying kid had ruined my sandcastle, and I threw a clump of sand at his face. After I’d calmed down, I thought: “I wish I hadn’t done that.” Did Rosie also regret her behavior?

I looked at my wounded neck in the mirror. It resembled a snake bite, red with markings the size of a small button. Why, Rosie?

Maybe she had just been lonely. I thought about a kid in my school who didn’t have many friends and wanted to be noticed. One day in the hallway, he just started crying loudly and dramatically in front of everybody. Was that what Rosie had done?

I considered my pet bird from across the room. It had been a few days since the incident, but I hadn’t gone to her cage to see her yet. I still felt frustrated that she had bitten me, and a little scared of her. I didn’t know if I could trust her.

I found myself wondering about Rosie’s life before she came to live with us. We weren’t her first owners. Her previous family couldn’t take care of her anymore, so Rosie was sent to us. We really don’t know much about Rosie’s past. We don’t know what it felt like when her old family disappeared. Was she worried that we were going to disappear now? That her mistake was going to cost her another family?

As time passed, I started to think more about my own mistakes. When Rosie got stuck in my hair, she could have been surprised by my quick attempts to get her out. Could I have accidentally grabbed one of her feathers? Maybe. Then, when I screamed “Mom!” it must have hurt her sensitive ears.

The more I acknowledged my responsibility for what happened, the happier memories of Rosie came back to me. Like when she curled up in my slipper and fell asleep. And when she flew onto my pants and started ascending them like a rock-climbing course. And all those times when she perched on my shoulder and didn’t bite me.

Later that day, I finally went over to Rosie. She jumped out of her nest and onto her bird stand. I reached in to give her a sunflower seed and her eyes got big, her posture straightened, and her face changed into a happy expression. She said “Chiiirrrp?” My interpretation: “Are we friends again?”

Yes, Rosie. We’ll always be friends.