We had a parrot drop in today. My brother came up the driveway with the thing on his shoulder, having found it nearby. Now, parrots aren't really native to the UK, so this was obviously someone's pet. His name, as he told us repeatedly, was Jester, and he spent about an hour sitting on my kitchen door until we were able to contact his owner. Most of it, we spent keeping the cats from trying to eat him. Admittedly, they did seem quite put out by the idea of a bird that could talk to them, but they still seemed to see it more as breakfast than anything else.
My hopes to get anything much done have been largely dashed by feeling ill, so I'm mostly just reading Kelly Armstrong's Personal Demon. It's pretty good so far, but that could just be the medication talking.