When we lived “Down South” (L.A.) the people across the street were so enamored of fireworks that the brother in law made a yearly pilgrimage to Arizona to buy “the Best” fireworks. So what we had right across the street was literally a professional fireworks display. Seemingly, all the people in our neighborhood had some sorts of fireworks, but no one had the vast array of huge rockets and bomblets he had. Just the same when you’re given fireworks the entire point is to blow them up. So the miniature explosions began around July 1st , sporadically and usually after 10 pm when we and the pets were settling down to sleep. We had a dog and a parrot. Our dog (Jake) was very afraid of the sporadic and surprise explosions, so we went to the vet to buy a sedative for him…After we gave him the sedative, he was so cute; so uncoordinated…like a jolly drunk, but the fireworks didn’t bother him any more.
Bob (The parrot) was another matter. Weighing around 1 pound, I wouldn’t have dared try to calculate a proper dose for her and when the explosions began she’d make the same worried noises as in the afternoons when she saw a hawk fly over our backyard- which was often, so I was very familiar with that worried sound…It sounded a bit like Marge Simpson when she is worried. She’d often start making those noises and I’d go outside with my camera and telephoto lens and sure enough, that tiny speck in the pale blue of Lost Angeles was a hawk. She had amazing eyesight- and we had a lot of hawks in our area. We weren’t very far from the freeway and the embankments were riddled with ground squirrel burrows. I imagine the hawks feasted on the edge of the 405. So the fourth drew near and the fireworks were ready. Anticipation was high. As for myself, I was less that thrilled because the ocean breezes carried all the embers onto my roof and into my yard. My next-door neighbor and I were out and vigilant for small fires, garden hose in hand. The “show” began and Bob was frightened. There was nothing I could do to calm her she wasn’t having any of it. This was worse than hawks in the sky! She often looked at me as if to say: “How the hell did you get to be in charge? You should be worried; you should be hiding!” She gave me that look that night as well. So, having no other option, I took her with me outside to see what was making all the noise. I mean, it was right across the street! The neighbors had gathered a crowd and everyone was moaning: “Oooo and Ahhhh” at each explosion of riotous colors. I pointed and told her “See? So pretty!” which was what I called her often. I told her that she was “so pretty”, so quickly she began to understand that it was a good thing. I had gotten through to her and in short order she was moaning: ”Ooooo and Ahhhh” with all the other spectators on the sidewalks. All in all, she seemed to enjoy it once she understood that it really wasn’t dangerous -except to my roof- but she didn’t concern herself with minutiae when there were pretty colors in the night sky and she could intone along with everyone else “Ooooo…and Ahhhh…”
For days afterwards, our streets were littered freely with exploded and/or singed debris and looked for all the world like we were in some war- torn city with the explosions and detritus in the gutters. And there were still hawks to worry about the next day and the next- and the next, but when the dregs of fireworks went off, she knew what they were now and she stayed calm. Jake was another matter. I glad that the Fourth was only a once-per-year event for his sake.
