"Michael, come here to me! This is Conrad!"

I know one thing is certain:

This morning (and every other morning, as far as that goes), if the little creep doesn't stop yelling at me, "Michael, come here to me!  This is Conrad!" because he wants to eat scrambled eggs and *only* scrambled eggs for breakfast, I'm going to pluck every one of his little feathers out with tiny tweezers, and stick his bald birdie ass outside and head-first in a snow drift!

(Just a couple days ago, Mark commented, "Isn't that the reason that his birth mother sold him to you, in the first place?"  Actually, there were 2 reasons that she sold Conrad to me:

Reason #1 being that she had a human baby a year and a half prior to the day I bought Conrad.  He demanded to be fed scrambled eggs every morning BEFORE she ever even *thought* of giving her human son his first bottle of the day.  Conrad knew HE was her first son, and he demanded to be fed first.  He would pitch such a physical and verbal bitch-fit if she took the time to feed her human son first, that she came to realize that Conrad demanded more of her time than she could devote to him.

Reason #2) being that his human mother was getting a divorce.

I got him as the result of Conrad being a spoiled baby AND as the result of a divorce.

Another side story:

When we were selling out house in Cahokia, IL , about 8 years ago, a young beautiful female Realtor showed up at our doorstep.  Before he allowed her to take a step into our home, Mark put his hand up, straight in front of him, as if to momentarily stop her, and he warned her, "I apologize to you RIGHT NOW for anything that *Michael's* parrot, Conrad, might say to you!"

Conrad's cage sat in the great room of that house, the first room that guest step into when they walk through the door. The Realtor looked around that room, and then she walked into the kitchen, just out of Conrad's sight.

With an extremely disgusted, sour tone in his voice, Conrad asks of her, "Where you goin' now, you fuckin' whore!"

I thought I'd die, right then and there.

The Realtor just laughed, and walked on through the house.

Where did Conrad get such colorful language, you ask?  You must know that in general, African Greys hate 'mindless mimicry'.  It bores them to extents that are beyond the average person's knowledge and general observations.  When Greys speak to PEOPLE, they know exactly what they are saying, and why they are saying it.  Greys know that people use human language to communicate with each other, and thusly, they must follow suit.

Remember - I got Conrad from a divorcing family.  The woman that  hand-raised him, feeding him with a syringe before his eyes were even open, was 'stepping out' (read: cheating) on her husband.  And her husband was aware of her extracurricular activity.  And so did Conrad.  Every time his 'mother' left the house, her husband would say to her, "Where you going now, you fucking whore?"  Thusly, Conrad learns:  When a woman leaves the house, or leaves the room, this is what we say!   

African Greys have the entire mental capacity of a 4 yr. old child, ranging from the same IQ, the same emotions, reasoning, and every other cognitive function - with one exception:  Greys are well known to be much bigger worriers than any care-free 4 yr. old child that I have ever seen. 
Combine with having such a huge worrying complex AND being natural klutzes, there is a lot of 'feather shakin' going on!"

Just last night, as he was falling asleep for the evening, he lost his balance and fell off his perch (not at all an uncommon occurrence!)  As soon as he was brave enough to get back on his feet - still on the bottom of the cage - he lowers his head as close to the bottom of the cage as he can get it, and starts shaking like a leaf.  For much the same reason as it is not a good idea to take softly to a dog that is scared of storms, there is a very fine line between making sure Conrad is truly OK, and not injured, and NOT rewarding him for being psychotic.   In the case of the dog-storm thing, the dog thinks, "Oh!  If I act like a damned fool during these loud events, then daddy / mommy will talk sweetly to me and reward me for this behavior, so I really, REALLY need to act like a damned fool during EVERY storm!"  all-in-all, not a good idea!

So.... Conrad continues to verbally complain because I won't give him scrambled eggs all day.  
I give him a snack that I know he loves:  cheese puffs (corn curls??)  In short order, just yesterday, he quickly ate every single puff in the handful that I gave him.  Today, however, is another story, altogether.  Two seconds after I turn my back, he takes the cheese puffs, one by one, and throws them angrily through the bars of his cage,  to our Shar Pei / Black Lab, Denver, who knows this routine well, and Denver knows exactly where to stand in direct relation to Conrad's cage, so he can catch each cheese puff as Conrad hurls it purposefully in his direction.   Or ... to pour more salt on the wound, Conrad will pick up the 'suddenly offending food' in his bill, carefully climb to the bottom of his cage, and hand Denver his little treat from his bill, through the bars of his cage, and directly to this 100 lb. dog's waiting huge mouth!

If Conrad keeps up his antics today, I think when Mark comes home from work this evening, he will see Conrad's frozen feet mysteriously sticking up out of a snow drift, and when Mark tugs on his little birdie feets, instead of sticking in his thumb, and pulling out a plumb, he will pull out a birdie-cicle!

- Michael