I don't wear my hearing aids at home when I'm by myself. Why should I pay for batteries to amplify silence? I found out the hard way, though, that amplifying "silence" can be priceless.
A friend gave me a cute little lovebird for Christmas and took the liberty of naming him Mork. Mork was only a few weeks old when I got him, and wouldn’t let me get anywhere near him at first. Having grown up with parrots, cockatiels, and parakeets, I knew it was going to take some time for him to warm up to me.
Gradually, he stopped being afraid, and we became good buddies. He would come running (or flying) to me when called, and we were inseparable when I was home. His cage door was never locked, but he preferred to stay in his cage unless I was home.
I read in a book that some lovebirds have the ability to mimic, so I began repeating certain phrases to him every day from the time I got home until bedtime. A few months later, I came to the conclusion that Mork was not blessed with the power of speech. I had never heard anything come out of his beak but a faint chirp every once in a while.
One weekend, my son, aka Super Hearing Boy, came over to visit and slept on my comfortable couch, which was located close to Mork’s cage. When I got up the next morning, my son had a few words to say to me.
“Mom – you really need to lock Mork’s cage door at night.”
“Mork flew to me the second the sun came up and began shouting in my face.”
“Really? What did my Mork say?”
Tears sprang to my eyes as my son replied with the long-awaited words, “Pretty bird, give me a kiss, and I love you. He also did a lame whistle that sounds just like yours.”