My birds are the boss – I’m just the catering service
26/5/2026
Translation: Jessica Johnson-Ferguson
Pictures: Anika Schulz
Rio. Cookie. Pebbles. Finni. In the early days, I just thought of them as cute cockatiels. How could I have been so naive? Fast forward two years and this is what I’ve learned.
I share my home with four creatures who may look like harmless feathery balls, but have turned the place into part daycare centre, airport, war zone and flatshare.
You buy a bird, but join a flock
I honestly thought I was the owner at first. Instead, I became part of a cockatiel community. With limited voting rights, mind you. Let me give you an example. The flock dictates when it’s time to get up and how they’ll inform the world about it.
At 6:58 a.m., Finni gives off a piercing «meeep» to let the crows in the neighbourhood know he’s up. Then the next cockatiel chimes in. That’s the flock doing foreign policy at just under 100 decibels. Believe me, I measured it once. I head to the shower, silently accepting the diplomatic situation.
Prepare to become your cockatiel’s PA
In addition to my job at Galaxus, I’m now managing a medium-sized company that’s really taking off.
I’m in charge of catering, cleaning, health management, conflict resolution, infrastructure and crisis communication. I also monitor supply chains («Where’s the millet delivery?»), manage the finances («That toy’s too expensive!») and engage in daily negotiations with my feathered bosses that has very little regard for my views.
At the same time, the birds regularly launch projects without consulting me. For example, engaging in plant destruction, curtain climbing or spontaneous «we don’t want to go to bed» strikes.
Your wardrobe is a safety concern
No one warned me that Rio, Cookie, Pebbles and Finni would judge my clothes. Stripes? Suspicious. Chequered pants? High-risk. Black coat? Definitely a ghost. Panic! A gaudy T-shirt? Guaranteed Pebbles will throw me a look as if to say, «Seriously?»
I’ve started to mentally divide my wardrobe into two categories: clothes for going out and clothes that are acceptable to my feathered friends.
Overwhelmed visitors
A friend recently spent the night at my place. In the morning, she looked over to the aviary with a confounded look and said, «They’re quite loud, aren’t they?» I looked up wearily and replied, «That’s barely a third of what they can do .»
She looked at me.
Then at the birds. 👀
Then back at me.
I think that’s when she realised that «a bit of chirping» and «living with cockatiels» are two completely different things. By the way, that particular friend has two cats in their golden years.
The absurd becomes normal
«Oh, there’s a feather in my coffee.» If I’d heard someone say that before I had cockatiels, I would’ve thought they were joking. These days, I’d just fish the feather out of my coffee and have another sip.
I also tend to say things that make absolutely no sense outside of my home. «Cookie, stop eating the plush sheep.» «Rio, why are you rubbing your bum against a knot?» (I think we all know why.)
Someone recently asked me if pets need a lot of attention. I thought about it for a moment. «Need?» I replied. «Dude, they just take it.»
And yet, I wouldn’t want to miss out on a single moment with my four little nutjobs. Finni greets me with songs. Rio’s excitement about chew toys matches that of a two-year-old in a toy shop. And when Cookie was in a bad mood the other day, Pebbles put her wing around him as if to say, «Come here, you little grumpy guts. You know I love you.»
I love you too, my cockatiel companions.
Header image: Anika Schulz
Anika Schulz
Teamleader Editorial
Anika.Schulz@galaxus.deAs a child, I was socialised with Mario Kart on SNES before ending up in journalism after graduating from high school. As a team leader at Galaxus, I'm responsible for news. I'm also a trekkie and an engineer.
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