About 1990, I looked out the back slider and noticed that the sunflowers were bobbing up and down. I took a second look and realized there was a parrot on one of the sunflowers trying to get at the seeds. One of the biggest mistakes of my life was grabbing a fishing net and catching the damn thing. Heck, I wanted to be a pirate as a kid and every good pirate has a parrot on his shoulder. It bonded with my wife and hates me - I mean HATES ME! The feeling is mutual.
It chases me if it's out and I come in the room. A good example is that one time it launched at me from it's perch and managed to grab my upper lip, with his little feet frantically trying find a perch on my chin and his wings flapping. I grabbed him off and threw him across the room and he came back after me. I have a mustache so I don't know if there's a scar there or not but it bleed. I felt like I was in some grade 'b' drive-in movie kinda like "The Birds". Of course, during the whole thing my wife is in hysterics laughing. Big help she is and she said it was my own fault because I'd had a bit more rum than I should have and was teasing the spawn of satan.
Another time, he waited for me to come back into the room. As I came in, he ran at me and ended up upside down with his feet grabbing each leg of my sweats about knee high and lunging at my crotch.
Why is he still with us - because my wife loves him and after damn near 35 years of marriage, I just roll over like a cur dog when she scratches my belly.