Why You're Really Here
                                    . . . To see the parrots

Given how hard it is to position photos, I am going to drop each in willy nilly, and hope that its caption is in the same state. Gromit is an African Grey (gray with a red tail). Wallace is a Jardine's parrot (green with touches of orange). They were born just a few days apart in mid-February so we celebrate a joint birthday for them on Valentine's Day. They're now fourteen.

Wallace is absolutely inscrutable. Jardines are known for sometimes just sitting and staring. We call it plotting. He would make a wonderful poker player or a hit man as his expression gives almost nothing away. He likes to cuddle, but he also likes to bite. Like really bite. Really hard. I have to judge his mood by his eyes, whether his pupils are dilated or contracted (I'm serious; it's a parrot thing called flashing).

Gromit is the "what you see is what you get" type. When he's in a good mood, you know it. When he's in a grouchy mood—meaning suspicious; meaning he thinks a bath is involved—you know that too. Fortunately he's almost always in a good mood.

Both of them talk, but to much different degrees. Among other things, Wallace says "peek-a-book" when he hides and I uncover him. He also yells, "Bad!" when he bites me. I don't know whether he means himself or me. People always think of African Greys as talking endlessly and knowing a million words. But there are also great differences within each species, so you can have a canary that doesn't really sing, or an African Gray who doesn't talk up to your expectations. Gromit talks, but after fourteen years he still won't say, "Movie deal," or "Five-book contract," or "Pulitzer Prize." I love him anyway.

Many people don't like birds because they have a "thing" about their feet. Lizard feet. Proof positive that birds are descended from dinosaurs, although some scientists claim that birds are not "descended from" dinosaurs and are literally living dinosaurs.

From tip to tip, Gromit's foot is a whopping three and a half inches long. That's big. Don't estimate. Take out a ruler and see.


This is an old formal portrait taken for a book cover. This is way back when Gromit still had all his feathers (he's a plucker) and I still had all my hair (maybe there's a reason I wear hats).

You may have noticed there are more photos of Wallace. He's much less skittish around the camera. This portrait of Gromit took almost an hour to get because he kept trying to get away from the photographer




The second reason why Gromit's in fewer pictures is that, when the flash goes off against his pale face, the result looks like a photo of a ghost. I was able to get this single photo here, played with it just to get some detail, and even then, there's something ghostly about it.

The photo shows where he plucks on his belly, which he has done for years. African Greys, macaws, and cockatoos are all prone to plucking. 

I once painted Gromit's portrait, which you can see here. And I made the photo panel of him below, which I think came out fabulous. I call it The Envy of Warhol. Maybe mere photos just can't do Gromit justice.