Author's Note: I have been a cockatiel owner since 1994, when I asked my mother for one for my college graduation present. She asked me why I wanted one and I told her that I wanted something to love. This story is based in that love for these wonderful animals, and in part on how my mother's male cockatiel, Sunny, found us. (He showed up in my grandmother's back yard, shrieking at her and demanding she take him in. We, of course, did so.) Italics are what the male 'tiel in this story is thinking/doing from his perspective.
He rested at last. He had been traveling forever, searching for his flock, and now he was fatigued and hungry. There was no food where he was and the last time he had found food, he had been attacked by scary black birds who were better fighters than he. He had to find some people. They had food. They could protect him from the others.
Nightcrawler slipped through the woods quietly. It was his turn to hunt down Logan, but he had lost the other man's trail, so now he hoped to pick it up before Wolverine hunted him down in turn.
A person! He was not used to seeing people in the trees, but he didn't question it. With a shriek of joy, he flung himself toward the person. Hunger would be satisfied. He would no longer be alone and in danger!
Nightcrawler looked up. A bird was screaming in the trees nearby. He cautiously slinked around a few more and saw a large gray bird with a yellow face flapping its gray and white wings and making demanding cries while Wolverine frantically tried to hush it.
The person did not notice him. He would have to be more noticeable. He increased the pitch of his calls and started moving violently, so the person could see him. He flapped his wings furiously and attacked the tree branch he was standing on.
"I believe I win, mein freund," he said, trying not to laugh as Logan turned and glared at the bird.
"It's not fair. You had help." The bird leapt onto his leg and Kurt lost the battle with his laughter. Logan looked at the animal and frowned. "What the hell do you want? You already lost me my hunt."
The person noticed him! Great! He was going to be fed. He waited, but no food appeared. He started nibbling the stuff he was standing on to show the stupid person what he needed. That usually got him food.
Logan growled as the bird started attacking his leg, nibbling and biting. "My calf ain't a toy, bird."
"Maybe it is, to him." Kurt held out a hand. "Come down and bring him with you. Maybe we can find him a home."
"As long as it isn't in my room, I'm fine with that." The bird hopped onto his hand eagerly and he put the bird on his shoulder, then made his way down the tree carefully.
This human was well-trained. It knew to offer the stick-thing so he could ride on it. Maybe this human would be his new flock.
"He seems friendly." Kurt approached the bird as it rode on Logan's shoulder. Its yellow crest feathers, long and slender, rose tall as he came closer and its gray feathers pulled in close to its body. It made a small, low hiss as he extended his index finger to touch its wing.
This one might be a human, but it was like no other human he had ever seen. Its feathers were all wrong and all over its body, its eyes were strange, and its stick-things were huge and scary. He warned it off aggressively, hissing and biting at the scary-human.
Logan laughed. "Guess he don't like you, elf." The bird fluffed out again as Kurt took a few steps back. Its bright black eyes followed the man as he began walking with Logan again.
"He just doesn't know me yet." Kurt tried not to feel hurt by the animal's rejection, but it did sting a little.
He was calm now. He was with flock. He had been so lonely! He started talking to the new flock, explaining how happy he was and how much he wanted to be with flock, and telling this flock not to get lost. His previous flock had gotten lost, so he worried about this one. It might get lost too.
"Hey. A little less noise there." Logan's admonition was ignored by the bird, which was whistling and chirping enthusiastically into his ear. The bird gave a loud, perfect, enthusiastic wolf-whistle as they approached the back door, drawing curious looks and stern glances from Storm's gardening class.
Bobby Drake was seated on the stairs as they entered. He stared at the animal. "Hey, Logan, you got a growth on your shoulder there." Kurt shut the door hard and the bird squeaked, then flew up as high as it could and perched near the ceiling, clinging to the woodwork with both gray feet.
Scary noise. Scary noises mean get up high as possible, after warning flock. He then watched as the things below him talked to him. He liked being talked to. He listened curiously as their voices got louder, then one of the things left.
"I could have gone, you know." Kurt sat on the landing and sighed.
"You woulda scared him off. If he got that scared by the door, just think how intimidating your teleporting is." Logan scratched his head, looking toward the bird, which was contentedly nibbling its feathers.
"I hope Kitty can get him soon, before he decides to go somewhere else."
He felt good. He would be better with food, though. He decided to remind the flock to feed him.
The bird started ferociously chewing on the wood carving it was standing on as Kitty ran through the wall and into the room. "Wow. He's pretty." She walked through the air over to the bird, which watched her warily.
He did not trust new things, normally, so he kept his eye on this one. It was small and made soothing sounds at him. He decided to greet it politely, as if it were flock.
The bird pulled back its head, then extended it and let out a long, slow wolf-whistle. Kitty laughed. "Hi, cutie!"
He got attention. He liked getting attention. He decided to greet the human again.
The bird held up one foot and wolf-whistled once more, stretching his neck out and holding his wings out from his body. "Come here, you," Kitty giggled as she held a finger out to the bird. He stepped delicately onto her finger. "I know whose birdie you are. You're Remy's, aren't you, making up to women like this?"
The bird began singing enthusiastically, mixing bird calls with wolf-whistles in an odd blend of sound as Kitty took him back down to the ground, talking to him quietly and saying what a good bird he was.
"So, what kind of bird is this?" Logan watched as the bird leaped to Kitty's shoulder and started grabbing at the back of her right ear, trying to reach the back of her earring.
"He's a cockatiel. Stop that!" The cockatiel flinched away from her harsh words and made a distressed noise, then tried to get at the earring back again.
"Need some help with the sweet little birdie?" Bobby had been highly amused by the entire affair and still had a big grin on his face.
"Oh, blow it out your ear, Bobby." Kitty took the bird onto her hand with some difficulty. He had something in his beak he was crunching. "My earring, give it back." She held out her hand under the cockatiel's beak.
He was not going to give up the neat toy he had found. He turned away from the stick things that were trying to steal his plaything and kept chewing on it. It felt good in his beak. He ran his tongue over it as he chewed on it.
Kitty forced the bird's beak open and took her earring back out of his mouth, earning a hiss and a threatening near-bite. She plopped him on Kurt's shoulder. "Here, fuzzy. Keep him for us till we come back with a cage and food for him."
He was uncertain of this strange human now. It was with the other humans and had not been too scary, but he was still a little nervous. He decided to watch it closely.
The bird got thin and watched him warily as he walked along the hall to the kitchen, but it didn't fly away or try to bite him. He smiled. The animal probably did not truly hate him.
He got out a bowl and a spoon, then searched the freezer. The only ice cream left was some old, disgusting Rocky Road and an unopened container of vanilla. He took out the vanilla and started scooping it into the bowl.
Food! The human had the sweet food he loved so much with his Other flock! He started down the human's arm toward the food.
"Bird!" Kurt put the animal back on his shoulder again. He kept crawling down Kurt's sleeve, making it impossible to serve out the ice cream.
Maybe he needed to persuade the human that he really was flock. He started off by giving the flock call. That usually got him what he wanted.
The bird raised one foot, cocked a bright brown eye, and wolf-whistled into his face. Kurt grinned. "Kitty's right. You are like Remy." He sat down at the table with his bowl and spoon, lifting a bite of ice cream to his mouth.
Oh boy. The human was bringing him the food. He ran around and started nibbling it straight from the thing it was on. Food, food, food, food ...
"Bird!" Kurt was amazed by and amused at the animal's arrogance. He ran up and started savagely biting at the ice cream before Kurt could get it anywhere near his mouth. The bird shook his head, scattering bits of ice cream all over his uniform and the table, but kept taking bites of the ice cream.
He had forgotten the Food was wet, so he shook his head as he ate. Food was so good! He decided to thank the strange flock for the food.
The bird cocked his head and rubbed his beak on his uniform, then whistled at him and tried for the spoon again. "No," he told the bird, firmly. "I may not know much about birds, but I am certain that you should not have ice cream."
***********************
Gambit sauntered into the mansion after a late night that turned into a late morning. He opened the refrigerator door, finding with relief that no one had taken his patented hangover remedy, strawberry Gatorade.
He was rested and fed. There was a human. He called to it from his new place.
A loud wolf whistle came behind him, and he nearly dropped the bottle, but caught himself and turned around. He didn't see anyone, but there was a gray bird with a yellow face looking at him from a shiny new cage by the window. "You talk to Remy, bird?"
The human was making meaningless noises at him. It must be flock. Flock made meaningless noises at him a lot yesterday, when he ate for two hours straight and when he played with his toys. He chirped again.
The bird made an odd beeping noise. It was imitating the microwave. He laughed. "So you like nuked food? Maybe Remy have to teach you 'bout real cooking."
"What makes you think you can, Cajun?"
Without turning around, the lanky man relaxed and said, "The sarcasm, gruffness, the teasin', must be Jean."
A snort. "Figures you're talkin' to yourself over there."
Remy turned and saw Logan leaning against the counter, leather jacket dangling from his hand. "Talkin' to myself?"
Flock was ignoring him. This was intolerable. He started making louder and more annoying sounds, screeching and whistling, so flock would pay attention to him.
The bird had been making quiet noises under their conversation, but now was increasing pitch and volume, and Remy covered his ears. Logan laughed. "Gotta get in on it, bird? You're more like the Cajun than I thought."
"So what his name?" Remy watched as the animal, pleased by the two men's focus on him, sang to them while standing on one foot, head slightly cocked.
"Well, the girls finally decided to name him after you." Logan gave a smug smile as Remy arched an eyebrow.
"Two Remys? Cher, that be too confusin' for everyone."
"Didn't say they named him Remy. Said they named him after you." Logan deliberately turned his attention to the bird, feeding him a few pieces of cereal through the cage bars. The bird snatched at the bits.
He groaned. "Okay. What his name?"
Logan turned to face him, dropping the last bits of cereal. The bird stayed on the cage bars, whistling imperiously. "Beau."