It was a hot night and I was thirsty. Before feeding the chicks, I poured myself a class of Coca Cola and took a swig. The drink went down the wrong way, and I began to choke. It was painful, almost like eating ice cream too fast, only much worse. It cut off my breathing. I got up to walk into the living room, took a few steps, and passed out cold walking through the kitchen doorway. On my way to a crash landing, my head hit the door frame, and I split open a two inch gash on my forehead. My glasses went flying but miraculously they survived the ordeal.

My wife jumped out of bed and came running when she heard the crash. She almost fainted when she saw me lying on the floor. Blood was flowing like fine wine all over the place. She tried unsuccessfully to wake me up, and then proceeded to call the 911 telephone emergency service.

When I began to come around, I heard a hysterical person trying to communicate with someone on the phone. I rolled over, opened my eyes and saw a beautiful lady clad only in her "sleep ware". For a brief moment, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. then I felt the pain, which I still remember very vividly. After I staggered to my feet, it was time to mop up the floor, feed the chicks and then drive to the local hospital to get me patched up. My wife held a towel on my head to stop the bleeding while I fed the chicks. At least in all this confusion, I was still able to keep my priorities straight.

The next stop was the Victoria Hospital ER. After waiting only about 15
minutes, the doctor came in. He took one look at me and asked what happened? I explained that I was about to feed some baby parrots and had an accident. I could clearly tell by the look on his face that he didn't believe a word I said. Oh the pain of it! He was probably thinking to himself something to the effect of.......... "sure, he must have been talking when he should have been listening or even ducking". It probably looked to him like I had an accident with a rolling pin. I assured him there was no need to call the authorities as I had told him the truth. He then proceeded to stitch me up, and I left feeling and looking like a relative of Frankenstein.

In conclusion, I would like to caution everyone that raising baby Amazons can definitely be dangerous to your health and potentially, depending on the circumstances a person might even get hauled down to the "crow-bar hotel" for interrogation. Fortunately the latter was not the case in my situation. In my opinion, one of the reasons hand fed Amazons are so expensive is because raising them can be a dangerous activity, and danger pay goes with the territory.