A few weeks ago, the recently widowed Alfie got a new cage mate. His name is Bart, and he, like the late Dominique, is a rescue bird.

Strange to learn how many birds our local Humane Society offers, some from owners who can no longer care for them, but others because they are strays. (This more of a summer thing, I guess.)

Bart is friendly, well-loved and used to being held, but he is also an escape artist. Luckily, he ended up not in the jaws of a hawk but on someone’s balcony — and from there to the shelter and, eventually, our home.

He and Alfie spent more than a week in separate cages, getting used to each other’s proximity, then … they moved in together.

They’re both males, so Alfie sings less (there’s only so much he’ll do to impress another guy), but they frolic together, preen each other, share food and sit contentedly in each other’s presence.

I worry when I see them squabble (a pet owner who thinks too much?), but I’ve decided there’s no way to read parakeet relationship signals thoroughly enough to truly worry. Instead, I’m just sitting back and enjoying the show.