This is Chipper. When we first got him, we thought he was a parakeet. Amalie and I had had parakeets in the past, and Am just loved the coloring. I thought the feathering was different, but I didn’t say anything. After all, this was to be her bird. Unfortunately, Chipper turned out to be very UNfriendly. We tried to finger train him, as we had many other parakeets, but he would have none of it. Finally I suggested we just leave him alone. Actually, he is very little trouble, keeping to himself most of the time. Then the vet told us that he isn’t a parakeet, but a Bourke’s parrot. They come from central Australia, and yes, they are that color.
These photos are unusual because they were taken in the den. Chipper never goes in the den -- well, hardly ever. What I suspect happened is that the cleaning lady turned on the vacuum cleaner and startled the bird, who then flew down the hall and into the den. Then the problem was that Chipper didn’t know how to get back to his own cage, so while he was wandering around under my chair, I grabbed the camera and took these pics. Then I asked Cliff to put his cage in the den. Cliff did, Chipper climbed in, and Cliff carried the cage back to its proper place.
This is Pepper, a cockatiel who when first acquired, we thought was a male. The breeder thought was a male. But some seven years later, when Pep laid an egg, we had to revise our thinking. Pepper is the resident clown and will get into anything she can. That means we try to keep anything chewable away from her. There is also the matter of cleaning up after her, so much so that Amalie started calling her Miss Poopsalot. I keep her clipped, so she is unable to fly, but she is a great climber. There are ladders for her to get up and down from the counter where the cages are, and she loves to climb up on my walker, as in this first pic. She also likes to sit on my leg where she usually insists on having her head rubbed. That’s where she was when I was snapping pictures of Chipper, so I snapped a few of her. My, my, she does photograph well, doesn’t she!
Whatcha lookin' at?
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OUCH! update --
I was concerned that I'd done more than bruise myself when I fell, so I had Cliff take me to the Emergency Room to get checked out. They took x-rays, drew blood, and I gave them a urine sample. After only 5-1/2 hours I was told that it was only (only?) a bruise, and they sent me home. Nonetheless I'm sore. This too will come to an end.
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And after all that you want some humor, too? Hokay.
Adult Truths --
Was learning cursive really necessary?
Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
Bad decisions make good stories.
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See you on Monday.
Pretty boy. Pretty boy. Pretty boy. Pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl.
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