Mar 20, 2009

The Birds

So, How are we spending the first day of spring? We are cleaning out the birds cages. Yes, birds. We have three of the cutest Cockatiels that we enjoy, well, most of the time. But they do not follow orders worth a tink. I have asked them on several occasions to pick up after themselves. But, do they do it? No. There are seeds all over the place. I talk, they don't listen. I show them how it's done, to no avail. Our oldest is thirteen, a male white face. As cute as a bug this boy is. Although, as will almost all small creatures, he is dilutional. Spike believes that he is an eagle (we've shown him pictures but until we can actually place him face to face, it irrelevant. Gilligan is his little buddy.(Yellow or Pied, eleven years old) Sad to find out thought, that she was a she. This birds takes the meaning of 'bird brain' to life. Gilly will stand on top of a mug of coffee, lean down, take a sip, yipe because it is hot, and go in for seconds. Where other birds are afraid of dark places and reluctant to venture into one, Gilly will walk right into a potato chip bag looking for crumbs. But, we love her. Our third is our favorite, (do not tell the other two) Gilly and Spike have parented several babies. We have for the most part, happily given them away. Five years ago, Gilly gave birth to a little Grey that she must not have liked because she pulled all the babies feathers out so I took the little bald baby and every four hours, fed it with a dropper, mother it and fell in love with Chewy. We kept her. This bird is the biggest tease and thinks the world of my husband. Talk about a bird being comfortable in her environment, she is under the assumption that she is a person. Chewy likes kisses, scratches, tummy tickles and snuggling up under your chin.

And so, I spend a day each week vacuuming their room, sterilizing their food dishes and disinfecting their cages. Why? Because I can't get the little buggers to do it for me.

I'm write in the middle of a fantastic scene in my current novel and I have to do the mommy thing - clean up for the winged vultures lying in wait for an innocent shoulder to 'poop' on. Here's to another day in the week of this writer. Have fun.


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