My Books and Stories 



My books are available at Amazon (including Kindle) and my ebooks are available in different formats, including Kindle, at http://www.smashwords.com/  
Amazon offers my books at a 14% discount, plus free shipping when you order more than one book.

I often offer 40% discounts on my ebooks through Smashwords.  Just watch this link to download the coupons during specials. https://picklestheparrot.wordpress.com/

Contact me if you would like paper books signed by me and beaked by Pickles.
georgiabbott@gmail.com


There are FOUR books now available.

Fifty Shades of African Grey - Pickles the Parrot Dominates Life, is available in paper book at Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Fifty-Shades-African-Grey-Dominates/dp/1484134036/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1367690046&sr=1-4&keywords=fifty+shades+of+african+grey

Ebooks available at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/312035 in all formats - or at your favorite ebook online store.

Excerpt:

I decided to take Pickles on a little outing so I packed him up in his backpack and we drove up town to take a short walk around the lake with Neeka Dog.  We had a nice little walk and then we sat on a bench overlooking the water and there was not a single soul around for Pickles to embarrass me in front of.  He was quite content to caw at the ducks and show off his other wild bird repertoire.

 

After walking back to the car, we drove across the street to the outdoor mall so I could pick up the mail at the post office.  I put Pickles on my back again for the short walk and on the way back, he started with the wolf whistles and his doing, doing, doing sounds just as we were approaching some people who were sitting on a bench in the common area.

 

Instead of stopping to explain, as I usually do when people can’t see Pickles because I’m facing them with him hidden in back, I decided to keep walking, as I knew that in a moment I would be past them and the backpack would be self-explanatory.  When I arrived at the car a minute later, I removed the backpack to place it in the car and that’s when I noticed that Pickles had pulled up all the paper from the bottom of the cage and then climbed down to the bottom, effectively hiding himself beneath and behind the paper.

 

That means nothing was explained to those people and instead, I just looked like some weirdo walking through the mall, whistling and doinging with a backpack full of old newspaper.  Soon, if Pickles has his way, the town will declare me crazy and unfit to own a bird.



Available at Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Pickles-Parrot-Speaks-Universe-Sesame/dp/1481183761/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1363366942&sr=1-2&keywords=pickles+the+parrot+speaks

Or you can get copies signed by me and beaked by Pickles by ordering them from me.

Also available in Ebook here (or at your favorite online ebook store) - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/91653

Everyday life with an African Grey Parrot seen through the humorous and often twisted mind of his owner, Georgi.  Her interesting perspectives on animal intellect and unique insights into nature take the reader on a thought provoking, entertaining and often hilarious ride.  The star of the book, Pickles, takes his adventures in stride with wit and charm.

Pickles is an intelligent parrot who constantly challenges Georgi to keep up with him, both physically and intellectually.  His demanding, outspoken yet fun loving attitude places both himself and his owner in some very amusing, and sometimes embarassing, situations.  Georgi touches a bit on nature, as it pertains to Pickles when he is outside in his aviary - their beautiful yard, trout pond and wild birdlife.  She speaks of the trials and tribulations of owning a parrot - diet, behaviour and bird intellegence - but for the most part, this book is about the antics of a parrot who thrives on attention and mischief.

Here's an excerpt ...

~ You know what it is that I hate the most?  It's not broccoli and it's not bananas.  No, wait.  It is broccoli.  I got mixed up. ~

~ My navigation's a little off since the wing clip.  Daddy's shoulder was my intended destination as he walked into the room but his crotch was where I crash landed.  His PJ's aren't well cushioned for talons and I didn't mean to grab his nads but I don't know why he carries his baggage on the outside like that.  He should tuck it in, like us birds. ~

~ If you know someone who is an idiot, you shouldn't keep saying it in front of your parrot and expect your parrot to keep the secret when you invite the idiot over for coffee. Just sayin'. ~

~ I speak in 3 voices - mom's, dad's and my own. Nobody knows who's talking to whom around here from another room. Yet, everybody answers to everybody. One day, I'm gonna call out "Hey, wanna fool around?" and see if anybody heads toward the bedroom. ~

~ Mom was trying to talk to me and I didn't feel like talking so I said "No speaka English" and she said "Yes you do - that's ALL you speak!".  I said "No comprendo", she said "Yes you do" so I said "Ich verstehe nicht" then she asked what I wanted for lunch and I said "Potato please".  "AHA!" she said.  Foiled again. ~

~ I've been particularly talkative and animated today while mom's been trying to concentrate on writing her book.  I yelled at her and she told me "Put a sock in it!"  I liked those words so I started yelling "Sockinit! Sockinit! Sockinit!"  Mom got frustrated and hollered "PICKLES!!!!" and I said "That's my name, don't put a sock in it!" ~

~ Mom says I ask too many questions.  What's that supposed to mean?  What's too many?  Five? 100?  1000?  Don't you think she should've told me ahead of time so I don't use them all up?  Oh crap - now I’m 6 questions closer to the limit. ~

~ This morning, nobody was around so I called out "Anybody home?"  And mommy answered, "Nobody home but us mice!"  I was surprised that mice could talk but at least I had company.  I went looking for said mice but got distracted by a pop can. ~ 

~ Mom wasn't happy about being down on her knees cleaning under my cage and she said she lost something.  "What?" I said, "Not my little pink piggy?!"  She said, "No, I've lost my dignity".  "Oh" I said, "Cuz I really need that little piggy." ~

~ When I die and go to the Pearly Gates to be judged, I'm gonna snap all those pearls off the gates and play with them.  I hope that doesn't influence their decision. ~

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Available at Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Pickles-Parrot-Returns-Continued-Adventures/dp/1482692317/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1364585070&sr=1-4&keywords=pickles+the+parrot

The Ebook is available here (or your favorite Ebook online store) ...  http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/31179

Or, you can get a copy that is signed by me and beaked by Pickles by emailing me.

Georgi Abbott has nailed it once again!  Similar to her first book "Pickles The Parrot", but a more indepth look at the care and commitment parrots require.  You'll laugh out loud at the situations that arise with Pickles and his human companions.  In this book, the writer has also given Pickles a voice to muse about the world.  Pickles is charming playing the role of philosopher and comedian.  A clever and delightful read.

Here's an excerpt ...

Late last summer, I placed Pickles in his travel cage and set him on a stump in the middle of grass and shrubbery to oversee my work as I wrapped algae.  I actually enjoy doing this; it seems to relax me somehow.  I don’t even mind picking through the algae afterwards to rescue scuds, and other bugs that may have been trapped, and tossing them back in the pond.

 

A young couple happened by and stood at the fence to watch and talk to me while I was working.  I stood on the bridge in the middle of the lake with my back turned to them while I worked on a particularly large chunk of algae floating amid the reeds.  I must have disturbed a fish that had been hiding in there because he hit the surface with a splash and Pickles yelled out “Fishy eat a bug!”  He says this when fish rise to the surface to feed on insects.

 

“Oh!  They eat bugs?” the girl asked.  She obviously hadn’t noticed Pickles in the foliage just to the right of her.  “That was my bird,” I said, over my shoulder.

 

“The fish eat BIRDS?” she remarked.

 

 “No, no,” I said,  “That’s my bird in the bushes.  He said that, not me”.

 

She quickly spotted him and said, “He talks?  You mean, he talks and actually knows when a fish eats a bug??”

 

I told her that I wasn’t sure if Pickles really understood but yes, if a fish splashes, we’ve taught him to say that.

 

“Wow” she said and turned to start a conversation with Pickles but he was too intent on watching me.  “Can you make him say that again?” she asked.

 

I wasn’t sure if he would and the fish had all been scared to the bottom, away from my stick, so I went and got some fish pellets.  I stood on the bridge facing them and tossed a handful into the water between them and me.  The fish exploded from the surface like a school of piranha, soaking me and splashing Pickles and our two guests.

 

Pickles went ballistic in his cage, furious that he was getting wet and started yelling, “What are you doing???”  I ran over to calm him down and as he clung to the far bars, I told him there was no more water but he still eyed me suspiciously.  “No fresh water” he spat and I told him it was all gone, and that it wasn’t exactly ‘fresh’.

 

He climbed back down to his perch and sat nicely while I talked to these people over the fence.  They were enthralled with Pickles and chuckling over his little fit and comments.  A couple of minutes later, they took their leave and I bent over to pick up Pickles cage to take him to the aviary but just as I reached for it, I pulled my hand back in horror.  Pickles had snatched a leaf off a shrub and was pulling it through the cage bars.  A spider clung to the edge as he held it in his talons and began to chomp on the leaf.  Pickles is scared of spiders and so am I.  It was a wispy spider, not one of those big bodied ones and I watched as it spun a strand of webbing and dropped to the perch beside him.  Pickles continue to chew on the leaf, oblivious to the little critter.  I watched in horror as the spider crawled up his leg, on to his chest and scampered to his back and paused on the top of Pickles’ head.  Crap.  I wasn’t about to save him.

 

I almost let out a scream as the spider carried on and moved down Pickles’ forehead and paused again, right between his eyes.  Ever see a parrot go cross-eyed?  Pickles dropped his leaf and nonchalantly snatched it off with his talon and shoved it in his mouth.  I’m pretty sure he thought it was one of his downy, spidery feathers that were good to chew on, like gum.  I stared in disbelief as he began to roll it around with his tongue while a couple of wispy legs dangled outside his beak.  I guess Pickles got a taste of it and stopped dead with a stunned look on his face, eyes as big as saucers, then snatched it from his beak with his talon and attempted to toss it away.  But it stuck.  Then he seemed to realize what it was and stood shaking his talon in an attempt to flick it loose.  A couple of shakes later, the spider fell to the bottom of the cage and Pickles began flapping around to get away from it.  It’s a small cage, with nowhere to go, so he couldn’t escape the scary arachnid.

 

I summoned all my courage to grab the cage handle and run the few feet to the aviary to release Pickles.  I figured I might be safe as the spider just lay there, half dead, with a couple of legs waving in the air.  The minute I entered the aviary, I snapped open the cage door and Pickles bolted.  He flew to a perch above me as I dropped the cage to the ground, fearful that the spider might revive and attack my hand.  Pickles and I stared at the spider, hearts beating and bodies shaking.  “Scary” Pickles said, “Wanna go home”.

 

He wouldn’t let up; he didn’t want to stay there, not with a spider in his presence.  But I couldn’t take him home without his cage.  Once again, it was up to me to save the day so I stuck my foot inside the cage and mashed, and mashed, and mashed until there was nothing left.  I tossed the ‘poop paper’ from the cage, picked it up and asked Pickles to step up so I could take him home.  He stepped up, but refused to go in the cage.  Oh, that’s just great, I thought.  Pickles didn’t want to stay in the aviary but I couldn’t take him home so all I could do was place the cage as far away as possible and cover it with a small outdoor table that sits in the aviary.

 

I ended up sitting on the ground and talking to Pickles to calm him down enough to forget about the spider and climb in the cage.  It took several attempts and about 45 minutes but eventually he conceded and home we went.  What a pair we are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Available at Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Pickles-Parrot-Humorous-Look-African/dp/1482678128/ref=sr_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365618941&sr=1-4&keywords=Pickles+the+parrot

If you would like a signed copy of the book, and beaked by Pickles,please contact me.

The ebook is available here (or at your favorite online store) - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/31179

Everyday life with an African Grey Parrot seen through the humorous and often twisted mind of his owner, Georgi.  Her interesting perspectives on animal intellect and unique insights into nature take the reader on a thought provoking, entertaining and often hilarious ride.  The star of the book, Pickles, takes his adventures in stride with wit and charm.

Pickles is an intelligent parrot who constantly challenges Georgi to keep up with him, both physically and intellectually.  His demanding, outspoken yet fun loving attitude places both himself and his owner in some very amusing, and sometimes embarassing, situations.  Georgi touches a bit on nature, as it pertains to Pickles when he is outside in his aviary - their beautiful yard, trout pond and wild birdlife.  She speaks of the trials and tribulations of owning a parrot - diet, behaviour and bird intellegence - but for the most part, this book is about the antics of a parrot who thrives on attention and mischief.

Here's a couple of the excerpts ...

Upside Down Bird

Pickles has this thing he likes to do – pretending to fall over. He picks the thinnest branch on his play stand so that he can wrap his talons around it loosely, like little hoops, which enables him to fall upside down then flap his wings to get back up. Sometimes he just hoops his talons and flies round and round the branch. Today he is particularly animated about it.

A blood-curdling scream pierces the air and wild wing flapping sends dust and downy white feathers swirling through the room. Our living room must look like a snow globe from the street. Pickles sees he now has my attention.

"Oh no!" he exclaims. His eyes are wide and have the look of fear as he begins to fall backwards, in slow motion. He pretends to be trying to fight gravity but to no avail. He falls, clinging to the branch, upside down. "That’s scary" he informs me.

"Yeah, right" I say, and go back to reading my book as he flaps his way back to the top of the perch.

Suddenly he’s screaming "No, no, no, no, no!" and I look up just as he’s falling backwards again. He hangs there, looking at me. "Ooops" he says.

Once again, he flaps to right himself on the perch then immediately goes "Ack!" and falls again. "Upside down bird" he says, "Scary."

"Pickles …" I start to say, but he interrupts with "Get back up!"

"That’s just what I was going to say – get back up and stop being a little faker" I told him.

As he flapped to get back up, he flapped all the way around the branch and ended up upside down again. Flapped again, this time doing several laps around the branch but at some point he lost his grip – and it happened as he was in the upside down position, resulting in a upside down, flying bird smacking head first into the wall behind, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor.

I leapt to his rescue, sure that he must have hurt himself. By the time I got there, he was upright, beady eyes looking up at me, one talon in the air, asking to ‘Step up".

As I picked him up, he quietly informed me "That’s scary."

"I believe you this time Pickles".

*************************************

 

The Dance

(Note:  Pickles is not clipped, doesn’t know he can fly, except in short spurts when startled.)

I have a broken ankle, cast and crutches and unable to take a shower so I’m in the bathroom with my head in the sink washing my hair while Athena, our gentle Doberman, lounges on the bed.  I’m thinking “My, what a happy bird we have” as Pickles is singing, chirping and whistling at the top of his lungs - as a matter of fact, maybe a little TOO happy.  Hmmmm.  Once the water is turned off I can hear him a little better and I’m thinking his sounds are carrying awfully loud for being at the other end of the house and around a corner.  After toweling my head, I hobble to the living room to check it out.

 

No bird.  He’s not on the top of the cage where I left him, he’s not in the usual ‘fly down’ places and of course, he shut the heck up now.  He knows this game and I’ve written about it before.  So I’m off on the hunt once again, knowing full well he’s sitting coyly, head bobbing and watching my every move.  I always feel so silly playing this game, knowing that a little smart ass bird is fully aware of the fact that he’s pulling one over on me.

 

Not on the couch.  Not on his living room play stand.  Not on a lampshade.  The living room is void of birds.

 

Not in the bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter or typing at the keyboard.

 

On to the dining room but not on his play stand, table or hutch.

 

As I turn to leave the dining room, Pickles just can’t contain himself any longer.  He snickers.  I scan the room again but he’s invisible.  Another snicker, I narrow it down from the sound.  “Pickles?” I call.  He answers with a cough and a sneeze.  Aha!  Under the kitchen table.

 

I bend down to look and there he is, crouching on a chair seat, poised to flee.  “Ack!” he shouts as I reach for him, but I’m not fast or nimble enough, restricted by my crutches, and he launches – straight into the sliding window door.  He goes down in a crumpled heap, shakes it off and attempts to escape through the glass again.  I head over to retrieve him but he doesn’t like the crutches, especially from his floor level.  Over and over he leaps and slams into the glass, all the while crying “Aviary?  Aviary?  Aviary?”   which he sees within reach, if it weren’t for this stupid window between them.

 

I’m trying to maneuver crutches and bend over to nab him before he hurts himself but it’s a difficult task and I end up toppling into an armchair.  Pickles spots an opportunity to head for the hills and he sprints, running low with his wings splayed for balance.  But there’s an obstacle – Athena appears before him, attracted by all the excitement.  Pickles pauses momentarily, assesses his blocked escape route and opts to go for it anyway and shoots between Athena’s legs.

 

Athena is mortified as the little grey plane taxies at full break speed towards her.  She starts to hop like a cat on a hot tin roof, trying to keep her feet out of beak reach but trying not to hurt Pickles at the same time.  This confuses Pickles and he’s trying to get out from under but everywhere he heads, paws are raining down around him.

 

So there in the middle of the floor is a dancing, hopping, circling dog with a trapped, dancing, hopping, circling bird crying “oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh.” 

 

Finally I reach the commotion and scoop Pickles up.  Pickles is livid and demands “Wanna go home!”  so I plop him down on the base edge of his play stand where he promptly turns his back on me and sits muttering to himself.

 

Athena follows meekly, slightly traumatized by the whole ordeal and worried that she may have been the bad one.  She appears to be concerned about Pickles and gingerly sniffs and inspects him from a safe distance.  Pickles is angry with me but turns to Athena and asks sweetly “Wanna snackery kiss?”

 

 What a suck up.

****************************

 Pickles' Very First Picture

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