We had been planning to adopt a parrot for quite some time, but certainly not until after the move into our log home, where we would have a bit more room to spread our wings, so to say. It has certainly seemed as though every square inch of our 388- square-foot cabin is taken up with various assorted treasures that we have gathered over the past 12 years.

Mini hit-and-miss engines, mechanical clocks, coal-fired model steam trains, a cannon my father built before he met my mother, a working treadle sewing machine and of course, my marble collection.

These things quite literally fill our small home to overflowing, but we know that we will be moving across the driveway soon, or so we think.

Rather than work on the house, however, this past weekend, we decided to take a day off and drive north to the most amazing parrot rescue shop.

We have been there often, walking among the beautiful birds, holding those who enjoy being held and talking with those who like to talk. Once again, we walked up and down the many aisles. I was able to hold a beautiful blue macaw on my forearm and run the fingers of my other hand down his back.

The manager must have seen something about my love for the bird and she asked if Greg and I could stay for a while. Of course, we agreed and continued our wandering, easily enjoying the many beautiful birds.

And then the manager appeared beside us, holding the most beautiful dark green bird. Yes, green is, and always has been, my favorite color. She held the bird out to me. He easily stepped onto my hand.

He measured about 18 inches from head to tail. His chest was bright yellow and his belly a glowing orange, and I felt the oddest sensation wash over me. I do believe that I was falling head over heels, instantly in love with this beautiful green creature.

The manager explained that he was a Patagonian conure, about 10 years old. His mate had passed away, and his owner would no longer keep him due to his incessant cries.

He had been staying in the shop for the past several months and had recently been adopted out, but after only three days his new owners had returned him, saying that he was simply too loud.

The beautiful green bird held tight to my forefinger and leaned into my chest. He rubbed his beak against my shirt. I knew that he was a good bird, and we talked to the manager about our farm and our other animals.

In time, she asked if we wanted to take him home, that very same day. I felt a tear well up in the back of my eye.

Greg looked at me, and without any doubt, I answered “yes.”

We walked again around the store, purchasing the necessary accoutrements, such as food, toys and yes, a rather large cage, and we drove back to the farm.

I sat smiling, my hand inside the bird’s carrying case, to help keep him calm.

By the time Greg had finished putting the rather large cage together, it was almost dark. I placed the bird inside and covered the cage with a large dark sheet. He settled in and was soon fast asleep. He slept through the night until sunrise, when the rooster began to call and he thought it only right to answer.

So now, for perhaps the short but certainly foreseeable future, we will live with a recently acquired gigantic storage case for my marbles, and an even bigger birdcage, right in the middle of our miniature living room.

And I have to smile.

I certainly love my new bird and my marbles, but do you know what?

After all these years, I am so in love with my dear husband, for allowing my fancies, whatever they may be, to take flight.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.