How Much to Feed African Grey Parrot Babies When Hand Rearing

The amount of formula to feed an African Grey Parrot chick and the times between feedings vary from bird to bird.As stated in a reply to a previous post, African Grey chicks are like children – each has their own needs and personality.

How Often Should you Feed the African Grey Parrot Chick?

 

The general rule of thumb is to feel the chick’s crop. If the crop is nearly empty, it is time to feed the baby.

What we usually do is to start feeding every three hours from the time we take them from the nest – usually at three or four weeks. We monitor the crop clearing carefully during that time to make sure the crop never completely empties. You should also take care not to leave too much food in the crop as this could lead to illnesses in the chick.

When you find that the crop is empty after two hours, you need to decrease the time between feeds and if the crop is still relatively firm after three hours, increase the time between feeds.

Here is an African Grey parrot chick with a nearly empty crop.

And here is the chick with a full crop.

Your bird therefore mostly dictates how often he/she should be fed.

How Much to Feed your African Grey Parrot Chick

When the chick is still very small, you need to feel the crop to make sure you don’t under or over feed the chick. When the crop is feeling stiff, not hard though,  the chick will have enough formula for the time being, Overfeeding can lead to the chick bringing up the excess formula and underfeeding will be detrimental to the bird as it would stem development of the bird. As the parrot babies get older, they will stop feeding when they’ve had enough.

They will also begin to show interest in other foods like shelled sunflower seed, fruit and a boiled mixture of other seeds. From about six to eight weeks we introduced these foods slowly before and after feeding the formula to get the birds accustomed to a variety of other food except formula and sunflower seeds.

Abusers are Cowards

Yes, you read correctly. All child-, animal- and woman abusers are cowards. How can I make such an generalization?

Easy, I worked in the courts for 10 years and this included being a criminal prosecutor, criminal magistrate and commissioner of the children’s court. After that I practiced as attorney, so I dare say I have some (although not perfect) insight into what character traits an abuser has. How do I justify the statement? This is my personal opinion not something I read somewhere:


1. Abusers are cowards because they are too afraid to attack someone their own size who can defend themselves against the abuse.

2. Abusers are cowards because they are afraid to face up to what and who they are – they would much rather blame the abuse on the victim by alleging the victim asked for the abuse.

Today I need to share with you the story of Jack and how Jack came to live with us. If I seem harsh, please understand that I have been mad enough to give a puffadder (snake) an open mouth kiss for the last nearly two months.

A Little Background

We live on a farm just outside Balfour on the old road between Balfour and Greylingstad. Due to the Burnstone Goldmine which opened about 4km away, this road carries a lot of traffic. Heavy vehicles make use of the road day and night and because we are situated on a small hill, the speed limit is very seldom adhered to. Road works on the new road linking the towns caused long waiting periods so most people chose to use this road instead to save time.


I have three dogs of my own, two Jack Russel terriers and a Boerbull, which I adore. The first thing we did when moving in was to ensure the yard is fenced in so that the dogs would be safe. The two Jack Russels, Mica and Terri (for terrorist) sleep with us every night and accompany us wherever we go. They are like children in the house and everyone adores them.

Jack’s History

A couple of weeks ago, I think it was about 7 weeks ago, my son called me to watch as people in a newish Opel Corsa motor vehicle put two small dogs out of their car opposite the entrance to our farm. At first I couldn’t believe what I saw, but then the Corsa slowly pulled away in the opposite direction and the two dogs trotted behind. The car then accelerated and disappeared from view. How far the dogs ran to try and catch up with their owners, I don’t know, but over the course of the next few weeks they often ran in that direction, obviously trying to see if their owners will return for them.

Jack and a Fox-terrier-breed dog were dumped next to the road like yesterday’s garbage. The most upsetting part of this was that the dogs were in good condition and well cared for. I can’t adequately describe the feelings (anger, disbelief, sadness) which I experienced that day. We drove up and down the road to try and find the dogs, but they were nowhere to be seen. 

Two days later we saw the two dogs in our fields. They had managed to dodge the traffic and stay alive. Bear in mind, these dogs were not used to fending for themselves and I can’t even begin to imagine the terror they went through trying to find something to eat and a safe place to sleep. At that stage it was still bitterly cold. What really broke my heart is when we tried calling them and they hurried away. They were petrified of humans.

As they ran away, the fox-terrier struggled to keep up with Jack and Jack would run for a while and after realizing his companion lagged behind, he would stop, look around and wait for the fox-terrier to catch up. They disappeared in the same direction the Corsa drove off in and we didn’t see them again for a couple of days.

About a week later we drove into town and found the dogs next to the road going through garbage. Their condition were terrible. Both dogs were thin and scruffy. Upon our return to the farm, I put down some food next to a dilapidated building some distance from the house in the hope that they would find it.

The first day the food remained untouched, but the next day the plastic tin was empty and dragged some distance away from the building. I thought they were too scared to navigate close to buildings for fear of human interaction (they must have been chased away so many times while trying to get food) and I moved the container with the food to our entrance gate, close to the road. In the photo below you can see the long driveway leading to the busy road.

 
Over the next couple of weeks they often ate from the tin and regularly visited the food source. All of us tried several times to approach the dogs, but the ran away as you approached. Two weeks ago I decided to move the tin halfway up the driveway to get them away from the road.

Jack came to eat, but his friend was not with him. We drove up the road and our worst fears were realized. The fox-terrier was hit by a truck and lay dead in the road. Seeing the terrier lying on its back with its feet tucked up, was a sight I wish on no animal lover. He/she looked so much like our own dog, Mica that I cried for hours, cursing the people who left the dogs. How could anyone call themselves human if they allowed this to happen to an animal that only asked for food and love and in return rewarded you with unfailing loyalty and love?

Jack was now alone and despite the food, he remained painfully thin every time I saw him. About 8 days ago, Jack first investigated the house and surroundings. He must have been extremely lonely without his friend, but he was skittish. It was over the lunch hour and the yard was quiet with nobody walking outside. From my office window I saw Jack sauntering closer and closer to the house. I held my breath as he went to lie in the shadow of an oak tree close to the gate. When my husband returned from town, he didn’t run away immediately, but the Boerboel saw him and barked. Jack ran like lightning down the road.

I Finally Meet Jack

Over the next couple of days he remained close to the house but didn’t venture into the yard again. He ate his food regularly and last Friday he watched me from the nearby hill as I walked down the road to put his food in the tin. The whole of Saturday we saw him around the yard, within viewing distance of the house and we moved his tin to the tree just outside the gate at around midday. Being closer to the house, I could now also put some water in a container for him. We watched him eat and drink water from a safe distance.

By dusk, I checked on the food and water again and as I straightened from pouring the food into the container… there was Jack…crawling towards me…waving his tail. Between the tears, I went down on my knees and he immediately turned on his back so I could scratch his belly. I could feel every single rib with barely any flesh under the skin. He whined softly and wagged his tail constantly. I called my husband to help me introduce him to the rest of the family and Jack immediately went to him and allowed him to pet him.

Jack was filthy, his body riddled with ticks and fleas and before we took him to meet the rest of the family we dosed him with Frontline to help him get rid of the pests. The introductions went well, but Jack refused to let either me or my husband out of his sight and whined when we left him. After a hearty meal and plenty of water he settled down on the enclosed veranda for the night. He was obviously used to being indoors and early on Sunday morning we let him out without him making a mess inside the house. Now, Jack sleeps inside on a warm bed with food and water always on hand. He already accepted us as his new family and is very protective of everyone in the family.


Now meet Jack and tell me why anyone would dump this cutie next to the road and leave him to die.



 

Animal Abuse

So, what constitutes animal abuse?

Failing to provide an animal with sufficient food, water and shelter are the most common methods of animal abuse. Many people want to have a pet and buys one without really thinking it through. Animals have needs just like humans do. They cannot fend for themselves and are totally dependant on their human owners to provide for them.

When the small puppies grow into bigger dogs, many dog owners feel the dogs are too much work. This happens every day, but it still doesn’t excuse the dumping of animals next to the road and leaving them to fend for themselves. The SPCA has branches all over the country and when animal owners feel they are no longer able to care for the animals, doing the humane thing would be to approach the nearest SPCA to assist them in finding a new home for the animal. The SPCA website has a list of telephone numbers that are regularly updated and help is only a telephone call away.

Like I said, abusers are cowards too afraid to face up to what they really are.

Lost the Groove - Where's my Mojo?

Today is one of those days that I wish I worked for a company and not for myself and I could get to say I am sick to go home. Not that I ever did that, but it would be nice to do so once in a while when you're feeling sorry for yourself and it seems that nothing worthwhile is happening in your life - or rather, nothing you do is worthwhile doing as you seem to accomplish absolutely nothing with 18 hours of work per day.

Yep, I am feeling sorry for myself. I guess everyone has those days, its just I am not used to them. Being busy 90% of my waking hours means I don't get much time to ponder things that bother me and which I have no control over. Today though, my attention span is non-existent, my temper short and my patience thin. Why? I have no clue!

Writing usually solves the problem, but today the mojo took a vacation. I have no desire to edit the book I planned to send to the publishers (notice the past tense) nor the inclination to write the myriad of articles needed to maybe someday supplement my income. Going at it for nearly two years with only peanuts to show doesn't exactly create motivation in my mind. Add the dwindling page views (nobody has the answer as to why) and the accompanying revenue drop and you will also feel like slamming the keyboard against the wall and walking out.

Add to the above the fact that a publisher now has been reviewing a novel for nearly 5 months with no answer - not even a peep, you will understand the frustration setting in. Reason? How the hell do I know if the hours spent writing (which is fun) and editing (which is horribly hard work) are good enough to be considered for publishing. How do you motivate yourself to continue writing / editing when you have no clue as to the worth of the stories in your head?

Don't get me wrong. I will keep writing down the stories in my head until the day I die - it is like breathing - a requirement for me to live. Knowing they are not good enough to share with the great world out there, would eliminate the editing process...I hope. Talk to any writer and you will hear that they always strive to do better, to improve their writing skills, to find a way to more effectively tell the story in their minds. Mmm, I foresee a problem. Stories need to be told, which translates to someone has to hear/read them. Editing will thus not be eliminated - a writers ego wouldn't allow unedited work to be displayed.

Darn, looks like I will be stuck with the whole process whether I like it or not. Let me go for a walk and ponder this some more.

Walking is as good as any therapy session - did you know that? While walking on our small farm the sun reflected on the yellowing grass harboring Cape Long claws (Oranjekeelkalkoentjies for the Afrikaans speaking readers) and I realized that I could see. Wow, how many people out in the world are unable to see the miracles of nature and here I am complaining while I can see the wonderland God created.

I can hear the black-collared Barbet fight with the crested Barbet. I can hear the wind rustling the leaves of the acorn trees and feel them floating down on the breeze. How many people will never experience that?


The biggest factor - I can walk! How cool is that?

This blog post just served to lighten my mood. I have NOTHING to complain about and so much to be thankful for. The mere fact that I am able to write this, is a reason to be grateful. How fickle is the mind of a human. We, who are more privileged than at least 60% of the world's population, tend to moan and groan on how bad we have it, but we conveniently forget about war-torn countries where to breathe and be alive is not guaranteed. We forget about poverty-stricken countries where the next meal, how small it may be, is not a given.

Now I am thoroughly ashamed of writing this post in the first place, but like walking, it served to clear my head and focus on what is important in life. YOU HAVE TO COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS EVERY DAY, EVERY HOUR, EVERY MINUTE. Who knows when some of them will be taken away?

For those of you who read through these ramblings - thank you and may your thoughts always be positive. I'm off to continue editing. Until next time.

Winter Blues in Mpumalanga

Today autumn flipped its leaves into winter. The wind howled around the corners and blew Acorn leaves all over the yard. Suddenly, the grass acquired a grayish tint over the yellow waving stalks. My nose filled with dry earth and my ears rang with the song of the wind begging to be heard. How did I miss noticing the season of the dead approaching? But, does everything die in winter? Or is everything not as it seems? To me, winter signifies rest - not death. Wild seeds rest peacefully underneath the frozen ground, giving the ground above a chance to recuperate after a lush growth period during spring and summer. Grass die down so that it can sprout new shoots when spring arrives. Everything seems to go into limbo, waiting in breathless suspense for the first thaw to arrive. Nights spend in front of a crackling fire, roasting marshmellows and drinking hot chocolate more than atone for the inability to brave the unrelenting wind outside. Snuggling against your loved one - whether human or animal - on a cold winters night, shoveling snow from your porch (hmmm - not very likely in South Africa as we treasure the little snow we get) or slipping on early morning frost when the night covered the grass in a blanket of ice, are memories only winter can provide. In all...I love winter! How do you feel about winter?