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Life is good.
March 2007 
Pichón
Posted on Mar 16th, 2007
by 
Iohel el profeta
Iohel el profeta
My parents gave me a cokatiel for a present a couple of years ago. They said it was to keep me company, since I was living by myself at the time. However, I am sure they were trying, unsuccessfully, to generate in me a sense of fatherhood in me. See, I am their oldest child of three and the only son... and the craving for granchildren is strong in those two.
We had a long discussion on what would be the bird's name. After a couple of weeks of fumbling through dictionaries and history books we arrived at a concensus. The bird's official name was "Ike" (pronounced in Spanish: E-keh). However, only my father calls him that. My mom calls him "el pajarito" or little bird. My sister calls him Fifi. A friend of mine calls him Peach. I call him "pichón" or young pigeon (which appalls me... As I was writing this blog I decided to look into the wordreference.com dictionary for the literal translation of pichón and found out it means young pigeon. I do not like pigeons in general and I have been callin my apartment mate a young pigeon all this time... will God forgive me?) or young bird.
Pichón, in my mind, means a young bird or fledgeling. The word is usually used patronizingly to refer to immature people. I started calling him that mostly because I really did not want him or like him. It was loud and obnoxious. It disturbed my thoughts. It wanted more attention that I could give it. I used to yell at it, cover its cage, and react negatively to many of its behaviours.
I undestand now, that I was in a lot of stress at that time. I was going through therapy for cultural readjustment (a good topic for a future blog) and the bird reminded me of all the responsibilities I had to cope with at the time. It was strongwilled and did not liked the gouremt food I would buy. It would make all kinds of annoying noises all day long! Thankfully, it is all in the past.
Pichón, is a good companion now. He sings to me in the morning. He gets excited when I come back from work and "tells me" everything he's done during the day. My partner swears he does not make any noise in the mornings until I get up from bed. He chatters while I am on the phone. He imitates car alarms, phone ringing, internet connecting, and whistles Kill Bill's Twisted Nerve regularly. Also he knows how to throw kisses, which is the most endearing thing about him.
Now that I am comitted, my parents asked me what I am going to do with the bird. I asked them why, and they said I did not need it anymore. Yet, I disagree with them. Now is when I need him the most. I need someone to stand beside me and defend me if things do not go right with my partner. I need someone to headbang with me to late 80's rock. I need someone to whistle with me when I feel happy. And Pichón will be there for those things and many more.
We had a long discussion on what would be the bird's name. After a couple of weeks of fumbling through dictionaries and history books we arrived at a concensus. The bird's official name was "Ike" (pronounced in Spanish: E-keh). However, only my father calls him that. My mom calls him "el pajarito" or little bird. My sister calls him Fifi. A friend of mine calls him Peach. I call him "pichón" or young pigeon (which appalls me... As I was writing this blog I decided to look into the wordreference.com dictionary for the literal translation of pichón and found out it means young pigeon. I do not like pigeons in general and I have been callin my apartment mate a young pigeon all this time... will God forgive me?) or young bird.
Pichón, in my mind, means a young bird or fledgeling. The word is usually used patronizingly to refer to immature people. I started calling him that mostly because I really did not want him or like him. It was loud and obnoxious. It disturbed my thoughts. It wanted more attention that I could give it. I used to yell at it, cover its cage, and react negatively to many of its behaviours.
I undestand now, that I was in a lot of stress at that time. I was going through therapy for cultural readjustment (a good topic for a future blog) and the bird reminded me of all the responsibilities I had to cope with at the time. It was strongwilled and did not liked the gouremt food I would buy. It would make all kinds of annoying noises all day long! Thankfully, it is all in the past.
Pichón, is a good companion now. He sings to me in the morning. He gets excited when I come back from work and "tells me" everything he's done during the day. My partner swears he does not make any noise in the mornings until I get up from bed. He chatters while I am on the phone. He imitates car alarms, phone ringing, internet connecting, and whistles Kill Bill's Twisted Nerve regularly. Also he knows how to throw kisses, which is the most endearing thing about him.
Now that I am comitted, my parents asked me what I am going to do with the bird. I asked them why, and they said I did not need it anymore. Yet, I disagree with them. Now is when I need him the most. I need someone to stand beside me and defend me if things do not go right with my partner. I need someone to headbang with me to late 80's rock. I need someone to whistle with me when I feel happy. And Pichón will be there for those things and many more.
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