THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, November 16, 1994 TAG: 9411150138
SECTION: ISLE OF WIGHT CITIZEN PAGE: 08 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY LINDA McNATT, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: RESCUE LENGTH: Long : 172 lines
AS YOU ENTER the driveway of Ralph and Betty Sue Wilkerson's home, a huge crow, as black as night and hard as stone, glares at you.
And in the front yard, plastic Canada geese glance up from their imaginary feast to welcome visitors.
But the crow and the geese are the only ones of the Wilkersons' feathered friends who don't chirp, hoot, tweet, coo, cackle, crow, caw or honk because this is the home of the Birdman of Rescue. He has the only aviary in Isle of Wight County.
``It's wonderful at 5 a.m, when they come to my bedroom window,'' Ralph says, chuckling congenially amid the cacophony.
``That's the peacock,'' he adds, cocking his head to stare up on a roof, where the sharp, bleating sound originates. ``She's calling her babies.''
Through it all, Ralph smiles and nods at his own babies, all the birds of many feathers flocked in one Rescue back yard.
Oh, and throw a pygmy goat named Blossom, a few fish and a bird-friendly cat into that circle of friends.
``Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Meee-ow.''
That's Little Bird talking, a bright blue parakeet Ralph, 57, gave Betty, 52, for her birthday a couple of years ago. The bird talks in full sentences and knows every member of the family by name.
``Ralph incubates every egg he gets his hands on,'' Betty says, laughing as Blossom nibbles on the legs of her slacks to get attention. ``I'm so thankful pigs and cows don't lay eggs! We even had snake eggs in the incubator one time. They didn't hatch. There was some kind of malfunction.''
Ralph directs a suspicious glance at his wife, and the laughter of the animal lovers joined by marriage more than 30 years ago joins the din of the cackles and coos.
RALPH BLAMES IT all on Betty. It was his wife who gave him a pair of golden pheasants about 20 years ago for his birthday, he says. She's the one who started it all.
``He didn't have a hobby, really. He needed a diversion, a way to unwind,'' Betty explains as she pulls a stuffed male pheasant from a garage that at this moment also houses several just-hatched quails.
Stroking the pheasant's brilliantly colored feathers, she says, ``We still have one of them. See?''
That first finely feathered birthday gift was before Ralph retired on disability from his own business in Smithfield, Wilkerson's Home Appliance Repair.
Soon, Ralph was going to bird shows. He purchased an incubator, a little, inexpensive one at first. And the backyard bird collection began to grow and grow.
More pheasants joined the first pair. Several different varieties. Pigeons, doves, chickens of every imaginable description and size, turkeys, peacocks, quails, guineas and ducks flocked in.
After a while, all the female birds started laying eggs. The incubator grew in size and complexity of operation. And the Birdman of Rescue was born.
TODAY, RALPH SELLS many of his birds to pet shops, farm supply stores, hunting reserves and hunters who use the birds to train dogs or to re-populate the wild.
``I raise a lot of quail to release myself,'' says Ralph, who is licensed to keep wild and exotic birds as well as large- and small-mouth bass. ``I've had people come back to show me their babies.
``But this is not a job,'' he adds, emphatically. ``It's a hobby. It's something I really enjoy.''
THE STORY OF Blossom is just one in the Wilkersons' nature book. Christy, a beagle adopted from a local animal shelter, needed a companion. The pygmy goat was a gift from another animal lover, Jimmy Spady.
Now, Blossom, who gets daily brushings and cavorts like a puppy, probably believes she is a dog.
``I try to draw the line when it comes to going in the house,'' Betty says, laughing as she scratches her pet behind the horns. ``I don't really approve of that. It's a little too much like Ma and Pa Kettle.''
Blossom seems unaware of Betty's feeling about that matter. She frolics right behind if the door is left open long enough. Besides, she's a little lonely now since Christy met her untimely end when she was hit by a car.
But the dog left the Wilkersons her own story. She knew sign language, Betty claims. Betty believes Christy learned to sit, stay and stop barking by watching the couple sign to one of their daughters, who is deaf.
And the unusual talent for a dog may have had something to do with the fact that Betty is the staff coordinator of sign language at the Hampton School for the Deaf and Blind, Ralph believes.
Could be that communicating with animals that don't talk is no more difficult than communicating with children who don't hear. That's his theory.
RALPH HAS ONE firm rule when it comes to his menagerie.
``I don't name my birds,'' he says, shaking his head. ``I can't get rid of them, if I do. I just couldn't say, `Well, I sold Sally yesterday.' ''
Maybe so, but some of the birds just naturally earn names.
``Mr. T,'' a wild turkey who grew into a 40-pound beast, is just one example.
``He'd visit the church across the street and wouldn't let the ladies get out of church and back to their cars,'' Betty says. ``We finally had to give Mr. T away. It wasn't a joy to stand between Mr. T and whoever he happened to be guarding.''
J.P., the peacock, is another story. When he was just a chick, he'd strut around the yard with just three scraggly tail feathers. Some member of the Wilkerson family dubbed him Junior Peacock. Now, the majestic bird with his colorful plumage has a family of his own.
``Big Red's around here somewhere,'' Ralph says, searching for a rare, red-feathered turkey he hatched from an egg. ``I sold him to somebody local, and he came home. He's the king of the yard. He weighs about 35 pounds. You don't want to grab him. He could almost fly with you.''
``I just can't throw an egg away,'' Ralph says. ``I've got to see what comes out.''
During prime laying season in the spring and summer months, Ralph hatches every egg his birds lay. It takes about seven days to determine if a chick is forming inside.
``See that? Did you see it move? See it jumping?'' he ask, as he holds a light known in the hatching field as a ``candle'' beneath the egg.
``It's amazing, isn't it?'' he says, watching the ultrasound-like image of the living chick.
Indeed, it is. But what's really amazing is Little Bird, so far the Wilkersons' most fascinating animal tale.
Little Bird was just a young parakeet when Ralph brought him home to Betty from a local pet shop. He was handpicked because Ralph was told he'd been ``hand-raised.''
Soon, it became apparent that Little Bird could talk and that he was much smarter than the average bird.
His first word was ``Nancy.'' Nobody knows where he got the name. The Wilkersons can only speculate that Nancy may have hatched Little Bird and raised him until he was sold to the shop.
Soon, he was saying phrases, sentences: ``Good morning. Merry Christmas. Where are you? Tracey (a daughter), come here. Give me a kiss.''
The most amazing Little Bird story evolved soon after he joined the Wilkerson clan. Wings clipped, he was out of the cage one day, perched on a curtain rod in the kitchen.
When Betty tried to catch him, he fluttered to the floor. As she pursued the parakeet, he moved suddenly and Betty's foot came down on his head.
``They all swear they heard bone crunch,'' Ralph says. ``When I got home, it was like somebody in the family had died. Little Bird was in the bottom of his cage, with one eye bulging out.''
After nearly a week, the rest of the family urged Ralph to put the bird out of his misery. Instead, he nursed him and fed him egg yolks.
Little Bird was soon chirping. And Ralph swears he was saying: ``I can't see. I can't see you.''
``I really believe he's blind in that one eye,'' Ralph says.
``I've had parakeets all my life, but never one like Little Bird,'' says Betty.
``I've worked to teach him to say, `Betty is beautiful,' she adds, laughing. ``He won't say it. But everything else he picks up in no time. He really is an amazing bird.''
Except for Little Bird and his companion, a recently purchased cockatiel, most of the Wilkersons' animal kingdom lives outdoors in cages and coops spaced neatly among shade trees.
And in most of the trees hang - what else?
Bird feeders.
``Looks like, if it flies, we feed it,'' Betty says, laughing, as she sidesteps to avoid Blossom and bumps her head on a feeder. ILLUSTRATION: Staff photos by JOHN H. SHEALLY II
Color on the Cover
Birdman of Rescue
Ralph Wilkerson has built an aviary in his back yard.
Ralph and Betty Sue Wilkerson, married more than 30 years, have seen
their family of birds grow and grow over the years.
J.P., Junior Peacock, had only three tail feathers as a chick, but
now has grown up to become a majestic bird with a family of his
own.
White doves roost in one of the many coops nestled in the
Wilkersons' back yard under shade trees.
by CNB