Coming back from a bike ride this afternoon, we passed by a tree that was nondescript except for all these sounds, these parakeet sounds, emanating from it. I called to Joedy and Lula and after looking up into the branches for a minute, wondering where the hell the birds were, we saw them! Little green parrots EVERYWHERE! They had short tails that were bluish at the end and pale yellow beaks, and they were so cute--oh my god, they were so cute!--I just wanted to eat them.
They were the same kind of parrot an old friend of ours had in Santa Barbara, a little guy named Tabu (the parrot, not the friend) who died after catching a cold. Thinking about that little parrot, and a certain parakeet named Kiki from my own illustrious pet-owning past, I couldn't help feeling terrible that they'd had to sit in cages so far away from their real homes. The parrots in the tree squawked and pecked at each other, fighting over those strange green fruits they were eating, but they seemed happy, really, and I vowed never to keep a pet bird in a cage again--next time, I'll just tie its little leg to a piece of furniture, or maybe a brick.
Speaking of tying creatures to furniture, Malko has officially reached the Dangerously Mobile stage, zooming around the house in his walker like a pygmy on speed, uncannily honing in on the interesting stuff--electrical outlets, plastic bags, knives--with an obvious lust for adventure, making his parents resort to increasingly desperate safety tactics. For a while, my favorite tactic was looping a dog leash around the couch/bed/table leg and then attaching the walker to it, but the occupant of the walker quickly understood he was being confined and retaliated with a scream that was not cute in any conceivable way. Since tying him up is no longer an option and we don't yet have any of those electrical outlet covers, we've been finding ways to cover up the exposed outlets, leaving nearby drawers wide open and arranging suitcases just so.
Although we'll continue Malko-proofing the house as best as we can, in two weeks we're going to Texas to visit Joedy's family and to renew our Costa Rican tourist visas, and when we come back we'll be moving into a new house, one that's not as expensive (hopefully) during the tourist season. Our bike ride this afternoon was to look at a house I'd noticed for rent--it was bigger and more secure-looking than the last one I found, which we decided not to take--but unfortunately it'd already been rented. We'll have to look hard these next two weeks to find a place, since the pets and all our stuff will need to stay there while we're gone, and though I'm excited about the next house, about starting a new chapter in our Costa Rica story, I know I'll miss this house--it's been a wonderful little home, and we'll have lots of good memories of it.
I'm really looking forward to going to Texas, but I'm pretty sure every day I'll be thinking about Samara, wondering what our new friends here are up to, wondering if it's hot or rainy, wondering if the cute brown horse in the field near Lula's school has had her foal. Will the green parrots still be squabbling over fruit in that tree? I already can't wait to find out.
