I have a pet parrot. I'm 34, and I've had this bird for as long as I can remember. My parents got her, when I was 5, she'll be 30 next year. She'll probably live another 30 years.
There's something to be said for having a pet with you for your whole live. You really get to know each other. My bird is a White-Fronted Amazon, a bit smaller than a common crow, and while she doesn't talk, it's clear that she understands a lot of what we say to her. She likes to click, whistle, chirp, and mutter under her breath. Sometimes, you can almost understand what she's saying. I guess that's her talking. It must be what we sound like to her.
White-Fronts are the smallest Amazon parrot species. They're from Central America, and they live in the rainforest canopy. This means, for the pet owner, that you need stuff for them to climb on. Fortunately, I'm pretty handy, have a decent size house, and was able to convert a small room (it was desinged as a little office, I guess, and it has good window with southern exposure) into a bird room: the room is criss-crossed by perches, and has two large, parrot-safe potted plants in under the window.
Sometimes, I go in there, sit down, and just talk to her. She'll dangle upside down from some of the ropes I have hanging from the ceiling, and chatter at me in her wordless parrot lingo. We get along pretty well.
Sometimes, she'll climg down to me, and sit on my shoulder or arm. When she does that, she wants to be groomed and scratched behind the ears. It's a bonding thing. I understand that dog owners have something similar.
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