I don't know if this is still around nowadays but we used to feed our budgie on Trill when I was a child.
He was called Peter and lived to a ripe old age. He was a great mimic and had our old trimphone ring off pat. We used to rush to answer the 'phone only to find it was just Peter making the noise.
He could also copy exactly my dad's distinctive smoker's cough. My dad even taught him some mild swear words, which we found very amusing.
This morning I suddenly thought about one of my aunts. I don't know why, unless it was because the town where she lived was mentioned in a recent news item (about yet another stabbing). Mum used to take us on the bus to visit her. My aunt had learning difficulties but managed to bring up two children and care for her husband who was losing his eyesight. Anyway, what does this have to do with Trill? Well, I distinctly remember that in her kitchen - the room she spent most of her time - one wall was taken up by a large run of bird cages. I can't remember how many budgies she had but it was quite a lot. If you can picture the scene, sitting around her kitchen table with a cup of tea when the birds all start squawking and flapping their wings. A huge cloud of sawdust, seed husks and much worse rising up and gently falling into your tea.
Needless to say, I often refused her offer of tea when we visited.