This morning I was gravely offended by being described as an “attack parrot”. The offender’s mitigation was that he had originally wanted to call me an “attack budgie”, but had refrained, presumably because he thought an attack budgie sounded less threatening.
Now, it’s little known but a few years ago GrrlScientist actually experimented with breeding attack budgies. They sound all cute and harmless, and indeed on their own they are. But it is as a group they are the menace Grrl requires for her work.
Imagine if she has decided to bring down the wrath of her attack budgies upon you. First one or two arrive – they’re cute, and might nibble but they sound nice and get up to jolly japes. Then a few more arrive. More cuteness, until they start exploring. Soon a couple of keys on your laptop are removed, or they’ve knocked over your drink. Then as more descend the noise level grows they pile onto your houseplants and furniture. Into the kitchen to raid the fridge and cupboards. By now there is cacophony and riot: anything not solid enough is being chewed into pieces by many little beaks. The wallpaper is ruined, as is the carpet: if it hasn’t been chewed, it’s accumulating small parrot droppings.
Eventually there is some unheard signal, and the budgerigars start to drift away. They leave in groups, still constantly chattering. Perhaps about the fun time they’ve had, or possibly discussing their next target. As they depart, you can examine the damage – the wrecked rooms, chewed to pieces and stained white. The food partly consumed, but mainly thrown around with the sort of wastefulness that would put even humans to shame. A few feathers still drift in the air as you realise the folly of crossing swords with a master parrot breeder.
That was the plan and it was very effective. But it was aborted after the first attempt to get all the buggers back into their cages.