One

It's amazing how numbers can make perspective so incredibly important.

Almost 21 years ago, my sister-in-law gave birth to my nephew ... and named him a not-approved name. It broke all my mother's rules, and was, generally, not preferred by my sisters.

So, when my mom's cockatiel started hatching babies, they all took turns naming the birds what they would have named my nephew. I can't remember all the names, there were at least five baby birds. I remember Cristian and Joaquin, but there were others, and finally, ET. My older sister said that the little baby birds that my mom was hand feeding, no feather yet, looked like ET, and they had run out of their preferred baby boy names.

Turns out they were all girls, so the names had to be modified. My mom gave away at least two of the babies since she already had two adult birds.

ET turned out to be a pearl cockatiel, beautiful with her little pearls on the tail feathers and a yellow-tinged stomach. The only one to be so beautiful.

One bird will be friends with the human; two birds don't even care about human interactions; three birds or more, and only one male, apparently makes mean girls like qualities emerge.

The other birds ganged up on ET her whole life, pecked at her mercilessly, causing her shoulders to be bald, no feathers will grow back after years of abuse. My mom always thought it was about competition for the male, but maybe it was bird envy. ET is really like the Cinderella of birds.

Why did my mother never remove her from that cage? I can't say, but she didn't. Perhaps my mom has more Darwin characteristics than I know.

And slowly the birds began to die.  I wasn't here for any of this, really, except occasional trips home. So, I would only hear from my mother, so and so died, on a catch up call.

But now I am here and I get to see day to day the update.

A couple of weeks ago the last of ET's sisters passed away. They are almost 21 after all. One morning, my mother found just ET sitting up on the perch and the other on the floor of the cage.

She is now only one, and her demeanor has changed. 

The birds have always asked for attention. Somehow they know the sound of my father's truck. As soon as he pulls up, the squawking begins. He always greets them in the morning and when he comes in, too. They always remind him, just in case he forgets, to come say hi. And it is like a neon sign, Dad's home!

I found out recently it is not just the attention they like from him, though they did love that. He gives them treats. Of course he does, my dad is the treat purveyor for all animals in this house.

Now ET is much more demanding ... and I assume that it is because she is lonely. Birds like to be in a flock, even if it is only two.

So, we all take turns going out to see her. Dad even throws out some bird seed right outside the door in front of her cage. Little sparrows come and chat with ET through the screen door. I wonder if they speak the same bird language.

She is still skittish after years of having to protect herself. But if you get low, especially if you bend your head, so she can just see your hair, she will make a little cooing sound.

No touching, no putting your fingers near, but talking is welcomed.

She gets as close as she can to you, she bends her head down like yours, she cranes the neck to get the best view, and she makes her little welcome sound.

And if you walk away too soon, she screeches or she just calls out - depends on how far away you get before she sounds the alarm.

I am teaching my niece to spend time with ET when she is here. ET can use all the attention and companionship she can get. And it is a lovely, fairly quiet moment of meditation to spend time with the little bird.

Working on renaming her with some better, nicer name ... something with the initials E.T. but I haven't landed on the right combo yet.

Note 1: mom's name rule states that given names should be in English with equivalents that are also acceptable in Spanish. The rule theoretically comes from my mom's experience growing up, where her name was always translated into English, including on all of her documents. (I am not convinced that she didn't do the actual translating herself since she also doesn't like the name in Spanish.) My mother broke her own rule with my younger sister, giving her the French equivalent rather than an English equivalent. But she was the baby, and it was clearly a new age in the world, or so we all believe.

Note 2: no mother needs to get approval, but she can also not prevent criticism, aloud or whispered behind her back.