I have no idea why Merlin, my Bronze-Wing Pionus, has this odd fascination with my laundry basket.
I bring the full load down from upstairs and set it on the footrest while I run into the kitchen for something or other. When I return only seconds later, there is Merlin inspecting my dirty sheets.
I’m trying to train him to take it down to the basement, throw it in the washer, and push the on switch after adding appropriate quantities of detergent and fabric softener.
But he insists he is The Inspector, not the actual worker bee, in this household.