The story of Rosie the Blind Macaw

 

 

If you are a lover of birds and exotic animals, take nuts in shell in your suitcase and visit Richard and Rebecca Payne Zoo, telphone 554330, near Plaza Kyoto in Zihuatanejo. Marina Nacional is a street off the round about there, turn right at the first intersection, Zafiro, turn right at Opalo and park. Donations appreciated. They have taken in many abused and unwanted animals. They are a non-profit animal refuge.

 

 

The Rosie File: Or What it Took to Bring A Macaw on the Endangered Species List Home From Mexico

Betty my Mexican Maid with Rosie on Independence Day before she was exported.

 

 

 

BIRD TALK MAGAZINE April 1998

Twenty-five documents on my computer, and a whole lot of love is what it took to get Rosie, a military macaw, out of Mexico. She needed to relocate because I reside in Zihuatanejo, Guerrero, only about four months a year. The rest of the time I live in Berkeley. Although Rosie stayed with animal-loving friends when I wasn't in town, they had twelve dogs and ten cats along with some eighteen birds, and Rosie had already been bit once when she bumped into a sleeping dog. Rosie was born blind.

 

Always crazy about these whimsical winged creatures, I had fallen hard for Rosie from the first moment I laid eyes on her. By chance I arrived at my animal-loving friends Richard and Rebecca, at the precise moment when two cazaderos (hunters) had taken her out of a battered cardboard carton and placed her on the ground. She huddled there, defenseless, as various dogs sniffed. Her face was surrealistically eyeless. My heart broke. I swept her into one of those big plaid, plastic shopping bags sold in every Mexican mercado. "Esperame, regreso rapido. Quiero que el vetinario lo examina." ("Wait for me. I'll come right back. I want the vet to check her out.") The hunters could hardly protest. Selling wildlife, which belonged to the government, was a criminal offense.

 

I bicycled off with their merchandise into the town center five minutes away, to find Dr. Campos, who was the other member besides myself of "La Associacion Por Proteccion de Aves (The Association for Protection of Birds)." I had written up a educational flier on proper parrot care and whenever I heard a parrot's squawk along with byways of Zihuatanejo I investigated its situation; confounding their owners as I gave them the hand-out, bringing new wooden (instead of metal) perches, food cups that attached to the cage bars instead of filthy tin cans, and proper food samples. Birds that concerned me were given free exams by Dr. Campos and if medicine was indicated I paid for it, for I had learned the hard way there was no other solution. If I gained the owner's confidence I took the birds home to finger train them so they might be taken out of their cages.

 

Dr. Campos' Office

 

Where Rosie's right eye should have been was a tiny opening fringed with black. It was constantly tearing. A patent tear duct was all that nature had provided. The left side included a partial opening where a grey globe could be seen, but Dr. Campos said it was non-functioning. 'She's also malnourished, and most likely she's mentally retarded," he told me. "How could it not be, when the eyes are missing?"

 

I had Dr.. Campos call over to Rebecca's where the hunters were admonished severely for robbing of this endangered species' nest, and told in no certain terms the bird had no value. But the hunters knew better. They had already sold the other two birds from the nest, and Rosie -- well, some of us gringos in town had a reputation for being unable to turn away the purchase of a parrot that would otherwise go to a much less well-endowed lifestyle.

 

Richard, who was at the apogee of parrot-collection addiction bought Rosie, but I immediately begged to take her home, and she became mine by right of overpowering love.

 

For the first months of her life, not only had Rosie been in a box, but she had been fed nothing but masa. Long sensorily deprived, developmentally delayed, not even her noises were normal, and she didn't know how to preen herself. I started her on peanut butter, corn meal and Geber's baby food, down the hatch in a syringe. She never seemed to have any appetite, except evenings. "Agua?" "Agua?" I would ask, and then provide water and food, hoping she would learn the association and respond loudly in time to let me know when she would eat. I also put her together with other young militaries, who were kind to her and taught her the pleasure of preening.

 

What Rosie did in her disorientation was to whirl and whirl around in what-ever space she was in. This psychotic looking behavior concerned me, until the folks at the Junior Lindsey Museum, who care for impaired birds, explained she was 'tracking', collecting data. She gradually grew know her way around my apartment and loved the routine of her life. Showers with me, where she would stand under the flow for as long as I left her, then towel dry and out onto the balcony, perched on a log in front of the exhaust of my air-conditioner. The hot air dried her off in a hurry. All parrots love baths and blow dryers. The balcony was her playground, the maid's bucket being as good a toy as were infants' one dollar plastic rattles.

 

All my errands were performed by bicycle and Rosie learned to hang on -- she never ever flew off. Rosie was afraid of flying, although flapping her wings when safely ensconced on my hand, was a constant activity. The bike was a jungle gym for her. She hung off it at all angles, flapping and flapping. Then she would guard the bike for most Mexicans are sure all parrots bite. Everyone noticed her blindness immediately. Pity was always taken and the bird became adored by many.

 

Time had long since passed since my first trip to Mexico with my mother and sisters in 1962, when all we had to do to bring a Mexican Red-Headed Amazon that we'd bought for five dollars in the Guadalajara market was to make a phone call from the border to our vet in Birmingham Alabama, who kept 'Perico' in quarantine for thirty days, after which she was released to us having learned to bark.

 

I knew that Mexico had since 1982 prohibited the export of parrots, since they were being decimated en masse by the way they were mishandled in transport.
If there were laws, there was a bureaucracy enforcing them, and I had to find them. As soon as I got back to the States I started working with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife folks in Washington. "We only allow people to import parrots if they have been out of the country for at least a year," I was told. "That way we don't have people bringing people back parrots they find on vacations."

 

I explained my "special circumstances" of living and working part-time in Mexico, and about Rosie's blindness.

"Oh, how sad. We'll send you an application for an import permit and hope our supervisors approve it," I was told.

 

And it was. Six weeks later an embossed sealed "CITIES" import permit arrived and part one of the process was over.

 

U.S. Fish and Wildlife were the ones to help me track down the proper authorities in Mexico. "Call our guy at the American Embassy," they said. "And whatever you do, if you don't get the export permit, don't try to smuggle that bird in. If you were to get caught, you'd be very severely treated, and the bird, being on the endangered species list, would not go on the auction block after quarantine -- it would go to a zoo."

 

Vis a vis the American Embassy in Mexico my letter requesting an application for a CITIES export permit was faxed over to the offices of the Mexican authorities. Some days later I received a fax that said:
Secretaria de Medio Ambiente
Recursos Naturales y Pesca
Instituto Nacional de Ecologia
Direcion General of Aprovechamiento
Ecologico de los Recursos Naturales
Av. Revolucion 1425, Nivel 25
Col Tlacopac
Deleg. Alvarado Obregon
01040 Mexico, D.F.

"I refer to your letter received in this General Administration office by fax...where you solicit a permit to enter into a state of exportation to the U.S.A. and example of a Green Gucamaya (Ara Militaris), originating in Zihuatanejo, which you inform us one finds without eyes.
"I must unfortunately inform you we cannot attend your application, due to the fact that por 'Norma Oficial Mexicana NOM-059-ECOL-1994' she is considered in danger of extinction.' In addition, other Mexican laws prohibit the exportation of examples of wild fauna and flora proceding from a natural medium.
Additionally, I inform you that this office, in my charge, has Rescue and Rehabilitation Centers which receive animals in bad conditions, whenever they are reported to us, such centers being located at...."

And it was signed by the chief.
But they say in Mexico anything is possible. And so I wrote to them again:

Estimado Director Lic. Javier de la Maza Elvira,
Please forgive me for I cannot write Spanish well enough to communicate in the typical formal manner. I will appreciate it very much if you will bear with my poor communication style.
I have much appreciation for President Zedillo who promises a country of laws, and for my part I have worked a great deal in Zihuatanejo to show people it is possible to fight for your rights and win.
But the laws are only a guide and justice is something else again. Also, where there is love, one should never give up to try and obtain the best option.
In Washington we have a law stating it is not possible to import a pet bird unless one has been out of the country for more than a year. But the authorities in Fish and Wildlife have given me a permit without this pre-requisite, because they have the power to make concessions in special cases.
Also, we have another law that states it would be necessary to put the bird in a thirty day quarantine station upon arrival to the United States. But the Veterinarian in Sacramento has the ability to allow Rosie to go into quarantine in my home because of her being blind, being alone and untouched in an incubator for such a period would be highly stressful.
I am aware of your laws regarding birds in danger of extinction. But Rosie is continually, personally, individually, in danger of dying and "being extinguished" because of her vulnerability.
For me, Lic. Javier de la Maza Elvira, it is like having a sick child, a child I love so much and want to care for properly. It is not a very agreeable option to sent her to such centers as you mention. She is my beloved pet and I cannot abandon her.
I have no children. I passed my professional years working as a nurse-midwife in the hospitals of Los Angeles, Tucson, and Oakland, and Hawaii. I have a book of names and dates of the women I personally delivered and in it can be found the names of more than five hundred women from Mexican who had arrived to my country for their own reasons.
Now, I, with my inheritance, have completed invested in your country for my own personal reasons: I have a deep love for Mexico, its people, it's birds, and I enjoy immensely helping others in any way I can. I have never arrived without boxes of used clothing, books, and so on.
For these reasons, I feel I have the right to solicit you: Is there any way to appeal the case of Rosie? I wouldn't dream of offending anyone, but for once in my life, I want someone to HELP ME.
Atentamente,
Leigh H. Roth, R.N.,M.S.N., C.N.M., M.A.

 

I gave the letter time to arrive and then made my phone calls. I made contact with a Felipe Ramirez, who acknowledged the letter and said he would present it to the chief. Some days later (I was back in Zihuatanejo again) I received faxed application forms! They were going to let me apply for the permit, which meant it would be issued! No use of bribes, no use of influencia. Was it a sign of democracy?

 

Part of the application involved taxes had to be paid in the bank of about twenty dollars. The fourth stationary shop in Z. had the proper tax forms. But at my bank, the teller said, "You have no tax I.D. number, so we have no way to fill out this form!"

 

Well, she was wrong. Having once bought a piece of beachfront to try to develop, I had paid three thousand dollars to form a corporation, "Lorolandia," (ParrotLand, -- in Latin what Columbus originally named the New World) which lay sleeping as I had sold the land after the devaluation made my prospects impossible. In that file I found a Hacienda (Mexican IRS) tax number and returned to the bank. At last I was getting something for my three thousand dollars. I mailed off the application with a video of a television show on parrots and an open invitation to be my guest in Zihuatanejo.

 

I returned once to the United States and the same day I arrived I received word from Zihuatanejo that the permit had arrived.

 

I had lied a little in my letter about the quarantine. Although I had personally spoken to the USDA head in Sacramento, they could not make exceptions. There was, curiously enough, a bill being considered to allow home quarantine, but it was not known if and when it would pass. So I had made a reservation for Rosie's thirty day period of isolation, leaving her in Los Angeles, which worried me and made me feel selfish for putting her through it. But one more miracle occurred. The bill was passed just two weeks before my return for my last trip to Zihuatanejo for the summer, and the considerate folks in Los Angeles and Sacramento called to tell me. And even Mexicana Airlines did something unheard of and let me change my return destination without charge.

 

My large beautiful bird barely fit into the under the seat kennel carrier I'd brought to Zihuatanejo for that purpose. Rebecca and Richard kissed her one last time. The guys at the local airport wished me well and did not charge me extra for my animal.

 

At Mexico City Airport, as the last part of the process I had to have a form from the U.S. signed by a "Full-time National Mexican Vet Service" certifying she was in good health. 'Salubridad' had their module at the far end of the terminal. I released Rosie so she could flap her wings to help the malatero (porter) escort her down the vast corridor along with my hand luggage. Once there we were faced with three very nasty bureaucrats in uniforms who examined her import and export license with suspicion and amazement but would not perform the exam or sign the health certificate form. They printed a document out of their computer stating that the U.S. wanted proof that she was free from six different diseases by virtue of blood-tests. "Come back when you have these," they said.
The adrenaline charged up and down my body. I only had a few moments to make a decision. Should I leave the airport and go to a Mexican vet and wait days in Mexico City for lab tests? Would the U.S. authorities really send us back without the signature? Dr. Campos' written health certificate should be enough anyway....

 

Could I tell them I had lost the paper? Could I tell them the Mexican authorities had asked for such a large bribe I had refused? Then I realized few entries from Mexico ever occurred anyway, how would the U.S. authorities know if I forged the signature?

 

Not ever having been told by the U.S. about having such tests, and doubting their necessity -- if they were necessary, the U.S. could test for them in the U.S.-- I went back upstairs to my gate. I selected the poorest looking young passenger and got him to forge a Mexican signature on the form.

 

We were met at San Francisco at 5:30 P.M. by a U.S. Fish and Wildlife lady (her name was also Rosie!) who took the precious licenses and said she wouldn't charge for her services since she was moved by our story. The Airport Vet, Dr. Chun, shuttled us into a backroom that was some kind of lab. I placed Rosie on the counter where she helpfully pooped for his inspection
"She looks great," Dr. Chun said. "I'll come out to your house in thirty days to sign her off. That'll be ninety-six dollars in overtime, please."
Never say never in Mexico.

 

 

Rosie is now a five year old young lady, and the best-adjusted companion bird I ever had. Her first word was agua, since I wanted her to be able to tell me when she was thirsty. All sounds of running water receive "agua," as does any food.
Since I am not always in Berkeley, I wanted Rosie to have a mate. I was told by everyone this would not be possible as her defect would cause another bird to abuse her. This proved not to be the case. In summer 1998 at a wonderful aviary I found Monkey, a similarly aged male military. They bonded without trouble and Monkey now watches over Rosie constantly, even bringing her food. When I go to Zihuatanejo they stay at Twin Willows, where they spend all day in a huge flight playing with the other large macaws and cockatoos.

Although Rosie and Monkey are a bonded pair, progressively prepared to perhaps reproduce, they maintain a cordial relationship with "Moma." Rosie craves love sessions of soft seeking and kisses in the morning, in the afternoon she wants to dance and fly to music. While I cook dinner she plays soccorr with plastic tupperware. Car rides and music are her other favorite interests.

 

Rosie has been evaluated by the United States leading avian vet, Dr. Brian Speer, and he verbalized his complete amazement at how well-adjusted she was. He said he had never seen such a beautiful military. Free of charge he and his associates put her to sleep to evaluate her for 'sunken eye syndrome.' It was found deep inside one socket is an eye which has corneal scarring. It may be possible to send her for a retina test and if the eye is functional the scar tissue might be removed. Anyone for a parrot version of "At First Sight?"

 

We have Redlored, Mexican Yellow Heads, Lilac Crowns, Spectacles, and Halfmoon conures in Zihuatanejo as well as the rare Military Macaw. These birds will continue to be captured by hunters every spring, fed only masa, as these people have few other sources of income, and sold to owners lacking basic education. Our zoo needs your help for education.

 

Lilac Crown Amazon, called 'cotoro': costs about $700.00 in the U.S., $50.00 in Mexico (illegal)

Military macaw, in danger of extinction in Mexico, plentiful in U.S. aviaries.