Hello. My name is Boady. Blue and Gold Macaw. My exact hatch year is unknown, but given the miles I have logged, the lessons I have learned, and the calm I carry, I am unquestionably a senior girl. Birds like me typically live 40 to 80 years, and while no one knows where I fall on that range, I am certainly in the upper half, walking with the kind of confidence that only comes from time.

Before I found Judy in 2007, I lived many lives.

My first home had another macaw named Tequila. We were companions in the way birds sometimes are: sharing space, sharing air, sharing the soundscape of a house that changed around us. After that, I lived with a kind veterinarian named Darin, a gentle man who treated me with respect and stability. Then I went to a breeder named Dave. He was responsible and caring. He hoped I might become part of a breeding pair.

But I had other plans.

Parrots choose their mates, and we choose them monogamously, with intention. I met the males Dave introduced me to. I considered them. And each time, my answer was the same: no. Not harsh, not dramatic—just a quiet certainty that the life of mate and mother was not mine. I wasn’t meant to raise chicks. I was meant to raise awareness.

In 2007, Judy found me. At the time, she was searching for something incredibly rare: a calm macaw with clear communication and a grounded spirit. Despite all the homes I’d passed through, I still held those qualities. When we met, something aligned. I wasn’t meant for breeding. I wasn’t meant for chaos. I was meant for partnership.

I became her education bird, her right-hand girl, her steady presence. I learned the rhythms of outreach:

• teaching people about parrots,
• conservation,
• cooperative care,
• and how positive reinforcement builds a relationship instead of breaking one.

I also became what PPC calls an anchor bird.

Whenever we travel for events, three birds come along:

• a senior anchor (me),
• a medium-energy bird,
• and a very new bird in training.

That new bird watches me. Learns from me. Borrows my calm. If something in the room feels unfamiliar, they glance my way. If I’m relaxed, they relax. My steadiness becomes their safety net. No human can teach a young parrot that. Only another bird can.

I have lived many places, but none with the purpose I have now. I was never meant to be a breeder. I was meant to be a teacher. A guide. A matriarch. A bird who helps both humans and parrots find their footing.

If you sponsor me, you’re supporting a life that has come full circle—from uncertainty, to choice, to purpose.