It has been a rough week. A little over a month ago, I adopted a little green cheek conure named Turnip. He was energetic, sweet, charming, and an absolute weirdo — but long story short, despite the weeks and weeks of working with him (on my own and with a parrot behavior specialist), he was unhappy whenever I’d have to leave him to go to work, run errands, or basically do anything other than be right there with him. He apparently made a big fuss whenever I was gone, and so he had to be rehomed for the sake of his own sanity and that of my neighbors.
We had bonded fantastically, to the point where if he was getting outside time and I left the room to go attend to something else and took “too long” to return, he’d come searching for me. There have been more than one occasion when I was in the kitchen washing up only to find him crawling up my leg like a little feathery Spider-Man. Awwww.