My bird, Pearl, is always freaking out about something.

Whether it is the sight of a butterfly flitting by outside, the sound of my large silver hairdryer, or the experience of watching Mommy round the corner and disappear from her line-of-sight view, the phrase I speak most frequently to my diminutive grey and white avian companion is a soothing, “Don’t worry”.

She never listens.

Freaking out is in a cockatiel’s nature, as it turns out. Every cockatiel I have ever known or owned has behaved similarly. What I marvel at is how the continual influx of stress doesn’t seem to bother Pearl much. If I spent my days freaking out as often as she does, I would be a nervous wreck. I might be dead.

But 10 healthy years into a predicted 20+ year lifespan, Pearl’s vet says she is doing just fine. She freaks, deals with it, and moves on. Like a small child or a tropical storm, the stress blows in, through, and out again, leaving no trace of its presence behind.

This is soooooo interesting to me.

What does Pearl know – and others of her kind – that we humans do not? Why is stress toxic to our collective systems, yet while Pearl experiences twice as much stress as I do (at least by all outward signs) she has to go to the vet in inverse proportion to the number of times I land in the doctor’s office annually?

Biologically speaking, repeated bouts with stress can build up a substance called cortisol (frequently dubbed “the stress hormone”) in our systems that can weaken our immune systems and leave us vulnerable to illness, disease, and death. The biological “fight or flight” syndrome that we share in common with our avian and mammalian counterparts is the trigger that causes our collective bodies to release cortisol, but that in and of itself is not negatively impactful to our health. Studies have shown that short periods of elevated cortisol levels in the body are not harmful in their own right.

What impacts our health is how quickly we can return …

One of my favorite books is called “The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill”.

This book chronicles the tale of a band of wild parrots and their unwitting biographer, a caretaker and one-time street musician and homelesss man named Mark Bittner. Since I too cohabitate with a parrot, albeit a smaller, largely flightless, and undeniably tame one, of course nothing makes me happier than to read stories of other humans and their birdie companions.

But I have to say, in reading Mark’s accounts of the parrot band over time, it shocked me at first how aggressive the parrots could be with one another sometimes. Especially if one got injured, or if another wanted to mate with a bird already paired with a rival suitor….look out. No tea, warm blankets and a pat on the head from this lot!

Mark hypothesized about where the aggression might stem from – especially when by and large the birds behaved in ways that were supportive and loving towards each another. One possibility Mark came up with stemmed from hunger – the birds had to forage for food and as they depleted the food stores in one area, they had to fly on in search of others. So when they got hungrier their stress levels shot up and so did their tendency to attack.

If I am being honest, this phenomenon sounds both plausible and all too familiar.

When I was 6 years old, I began begging my folks for a bird. By the time I turned 8 years old, I had my first parakeet, Perky.

Perky and I spent hours together each day – he taught me about handling and understanding birds (some days I was a better student than others) and he lived an exceptionally long and healthy life before he passed at 12 years old (apparently this is VERY old for a parakeet).

While it has never gotten any easier saying goodbye, over the years I have had many avian companions, each of which has served as mentors to me in their own unique ways.

Recently I discovered a charmingly wonderful book called “The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill“ which describes a very similar experience to my own.

While the wild parrots were clearly the focal point throughout much of the book, the true star was the author himself, who over time allowed his life to become completely transformed through his relationship to these small feathery mentors.

The book by Mark Bittner (subtitled: A love story….with wings)

The author, Mark Bittner, first became familiar with the parrots while serving as a caretaker to a cottage on famous Telegraph Hill near San Francisco, CA.

Often when I am presenting at a college or organization, I spend a few minutes working with the participants in a guided exercise to demonstrate the power of our own minds when setting and achieving goals.

Our own attitude – which is approximately 50% genetic and 50% learned behavior – wields a powerful influence.

Our attitude is formed by a thought meeting a feeling, or vice versa. In other words, it is in the interplay between thought and emotion that our full power (for good or for ill) is discovered and unleashed (sort of like pulling the pin out of a hand grenade, or filling a balloon full of helium).

There are two typical pathways by which thought and emotion most frequently tend to meet:

Example A: The mind thinks a thought. That thought produces an emotion.
Example B: The body produces an emotion. The mind thinks a thought about that emotion.

In the intersection where thought meets feeling, or feeling meets thought, decision and action can then occur.

….so you do unto me.

I am not well-versed in religion, Christian or otherwise.

I would never presume to attempt to sermonize, or to assume I fully understand the words of those who do.

But I do know this – if by “the least of these” Jesus was meaning bugs, then I’ve got a LONG way to go to earn my “great human being” stripes.

I cannot seem to help myself. I have so much compassion for animals, children, and most adults. I keep my house neat and see my folks at least once a week on average. My bird lives better than some people do (so do my fish and my houseplants for that matter).

But just TRY being a bug in my household and see how you fare.

Splat. Whack. Smush.

At least I don’t stalk them with those electric zapper paddles like my Dad does. But if I’m being honest, that is just because he hasn’t bought me one yet (I hear it is on order).

Since I’ve moved into this place – a 100 year old historic duplex home in the heart of one of Houston’s most historic districts – I have battled roaches (shudder), fleas, both red and black ants, countless spiders of all colors and sizes, one medium sized rodent and a host of black gnats that think houseplants make mighty fine insect residences.

I was talking with a friend this past weekend about how easily studying nature can take us back to basics.

My friend mentioned how animals are motivated by instinct – the instinct to eat, to rest, to reproduce. Things seem much simpler in the animal kingdom with no pesky frontal lobe to interfere with their instinct-based decisions.

Then again, at the risk of anthropomorphizing (or giving animals qualities that are typically only associated with humans – I had to look that one up) my beloved bird, Pearl, or others in the animal world, how much do we humans really know about what makes animals tick, why they do the things they do, and how they relate?

Not nearly enough, according to a recent Time magazine article. Called “The Science of Animal Friendships”, this article shares information that is both surprising and not so surprising.

I am a bird nut. A bird fanatic. A bird lover extraordinaire.

I think it is extremely fun to spend my free time taking pictures of my bird, Pearl, and then writing about all the cute things she does in the special blog I started for her, Love & Feathers. Sometimes I spend so much time chasing Pearl around with my iPhone camera that I forget I have actual work to do.

This also helps Pearl remember, yet again, why the iPhone is mortal birdie enemy #1.

But pets are such great mentors because they keep us honest. For instance, Pearl now knows that nighttime is neck feather-scratching time. If I do not respond to her first reminder chirps, she will. not. stop. until. I. do.

It does not matter how comfortable I am in whatever part of the house I am hanging out in. My feathered gal’s got nothing but time, and her tiny but powerful birdie lungs never wear out.

Perhaps this is one reason why I am now on my third go-round reading one of my all-time favorite books, Wesley the Owl.

Outside of a few celebrities (Kate Winslet, Jamie Lee Curtis, Adele and Liv Tyler come to mind) who are adamant that they love their curves and plan to maintain them, finding visible role models who genuinely seem to like their bodies is an ongoing challenge.

Which is why sometimes I turn to non-humans for inspiration.

Snowball, Animal Planet star. Photo courtesy of Irena Schulz and Bird Lovers Only (www.birdloversonly.org)

Take Snowball, for instance.

Talk about a positive body image mentor!

Snowball is a young sulfur crested cockatoo.

He was dropped off at the Bird Lovers Only bird shelter by his frustrated former owner, who couldn’t deal with the well-publized “terrible twos” that cockatoos and other large birds often go through.

But Snowball’s owner also left a DVD with the bird, and instructed shelter co-owners Charles & Irena Schulz to make sure to pop it in and watch what happened next.

What happened next was that the couple discovered that Snowball realllllllyyyyy likes the Backstreet Boys.

If you’ve been following “Mentoring & Recovery” for awhile, you’ve probably noticed I write a lot about my bird, Pearl.

Believe it or not, this is not just because she is the smartest, cutest, most entertaining avian on the planet.

Although she is all those things.

It is also because she is the prettiest.

This is not an opinion.

She knows it, and I know it.

And everyone else knows it the moment they meet her.

It’s my birthday today. So I’ve decided to write about my favorite subject – birds.

When I visit a place to speak, I always ask the audience to raise their hand if they have a pet.

For those who don’t, their assignment is to get one.

This is because pets are great for learning healthy self-esteem.

“Oh boy oh boy. I sure am pretty. Pretty, pretty, pretty birdie.”

Let’s take Exhibit A: my pet bird, Pearl.

Pearl is 10 years old this year. Every morning for the past 10 years, Pearl has awoken in exactly the same way. First, I uncover her cage. Next, I open the door and she scurries out. She then makes her way up the side of the cage to the bathroom mirror, conveniently located next to her cage.

Then she looks in the mirror, spies herself, and lets out a loud birdie cat-call. You can almost hear her avian thoughts, “WOW! Pretty pretty PRETTY! I am SO lucky! I get to spend another day with the most beautiful bird in the whole world – ME! Yippee!”

I have to admit, I rarely (if ever) greet myself that way when I first catch sight of myself in that same bathroom mirror in the morning.