Nicholas

My sweet little Nicholas, who died on November 11, 2012.

He was always loud and opinionated, a firm believer that humans were put on earth to scritch his little head.

He had the softest feathers of any parrot I've been fortunate enough to touch.

We're still not quite sure what happened. I noticed his nares were red and he fell off his perch. I hospitalized him over night and his breathing got better. I brought him home, but could get enough nutrition down his stubborn little beak. Back to the hospital, where he was doing better and then died that night.  The necropsy suggested he died of aspiration.

All I know is that he's gone and I miss him terribly.

Flash seems to have blossomed though, now that Nicholas is gone.  He didn't spend much time being sad or looking for his cage mate, but he immediately began singing Nicholas songs -- as loud and pure and uncannily accurate as if it were Nicholas himself.

Overcoming Inertia

Forgive me, readers.  It's been several months since I updated my blog.  In that time I've had the living/dining/kitchen area and bedroom repainted, done major decluttering of closets, had a harmless growth removed from my leg, and am currently recovering from the annual round of springtime allergies that end up being sinus infections requiring lots of antibiotics and extra naps.

This picture is Nicholas, looking out from behind a sort of woven net of bagel bites and some kind of coarse fibers.  I took it a few days ago; I forgot to reset the date on the camera when I changed the battery.

The birds are wonderful.  They like me being home, except that I don't let them out as frequently and for as long as they think they should be out.  It's not really a problem with the Bobbsey Twins since they rarely stray from the open cage door, but Charli's another matter.

There are books in dire need of chewing, she has decided.  And it's so convenient to climb from my shoulder to the book case when I'm sitting on the couch.  We then go through several rounds of her climbing to the bookcase and me bringing her back to my shoulder.  Then she gets mad; her little eyes narrow and she becomes even more determined to get to the bookcase.  I bring her back to the coffee table and show her that her favorite sudoku book is available for chewing, but no . . . . it's the cookbooks in the bookcase she wants.

It's taken me several months, but I think I've finally gotten a healthy routine set out, which means I can get back to some serious writing.  I bought myself a Kindle and I've been reading a lot of books rather than listening to them from audible.com.  Writing an update is my way of starting to kick some inertia butt!

Transitions

It's been dreadfully hot and humid the past few weeks.  Storms yesterday, and a nice peaceful day today in the mid-80s.

I've had a good Saturday.  Farmer's market early this morning, then some serious decluttering of my home office.  Threw out three big bags of trash, and took two big loads to Goodwill.

Birdies and I had fresh, sweet corn on the cob for lunch, and I also had tomatoes with cottage cheese.

The big news is that I finally found a way to take early retirement!  I'll still have to work, of course, but I won't have to worry about being destitute.  My last day at that place will be October 8.  

I'm applying for online instructor jobs and I won't mind working part-time for the university, but I won't ever have to go back to the place that's been driving me crazy for the past three or four years.  There's even a good chance I'll be able to get enough peace of mind back to get some writing done.

I've been missing Sugar Franklin a lot the past week or so.  This time last year she and I were engaged in the mighty battle of cockatiel beak versus syringe.  She always won.  I was looking for something in the outside storage building the other day, and the first thing I saw was her cage.  I didn't clean it very well when I put it out there, so I was thinking today maybe I should just throw it out.  In the unlikely event I ever get another bird it will always be her cage.  I think I have another cage just like it in another storage area.  We don't have any rescues in this area, so there's really no one to give it to.

The Bobbsey Twins are just as silly as always, arguing over which perch to sleep on, throwing any poisonous substances such as vegetables out of the food dishes, demanding Nutriberries every night.

Charli is well, though I think she's been a bit more quiet lately.  More happy to sit on my knee and doze or hang out on the basket in the plant stand after a hard session of chewing up the sudoku book.  She's had a few more yellow feathers come in on her legs.  Someone on the brown-head list has noticed this on his brown-head as well; he likens it to getting gray hair.  Charli is about 11 now, maybe moving into the beginning of middle age for a brown-headed parrot.

I worry sometimes that I give her more attention than I do the Bobbsey Twins, but she demands more while the cockatiels have one another and don't seem to mind if I'm around or not (as long as there are plenty of treats available).

The Plot Continues

This is little Flash, snoozing between bouts of scheming with Nicholas.  He has such a beautiful crest, and he's an awesome flier.  I adore him.


Things continue to be unhealthy at work, and I've got applications out everywhere I can.  Personal life is pretty stable; family members and friends all well. The weather here is nearly as bad as it is everywhere in the nation.  Spring cannot come quickly enough.


All my parrots are spoiled and continuing their work on the Great Parrot Takeover.  I no longer pretend I'm anything but a pawn and almond provider in their diabolical plans.

In this picture Nicholas and Flash eye me warily.  Evidently I interrupted some sort of planning session.


I've told all my non-parrot-owning friends to begin the search for me if they don't hear from me for a certain amount of time.  Just in case.

I was up late last night, which was okay because I figured I could sleep late Saturday morning. Except, of course, that I forgot that Nicholas does not believe any creature should sleep once the first molecule of sunlight appears.

So, in response to continual chirping and calling and demands to get the cage covers off, I drug myself out of bed and took off the cage covers. Congratulated everyone on being all nice and awake. I watched the Bobbsey Twins scamper around their cage, then Flash decided it would be a good time to masturbate. Which he did, while Nicholas tried to preen him. Flash likes to hold onto one of Nicholas's toys, a long rubbery bright pink spiraly thing, when he masturbates -- only it frequently slips out of his foot so he has to stop, grab the toy, readjust himself, and start over.

This proves that no life is without its complications.

Then I opened the blinds to see 2 finches and 2 female Cardinals at the bird feeder, and a never-before-seen-by-me bird at the suet cake. It had vivid sharp stripes of black and white, the tip of its head had a splash of red, and its breast was gray.

(Sidebar: If you aren't already a member of Cornell's Project Feeder Watch, do give it some thought. People all over the US note the birds at their feeders on specific days, which provides lots of data on migration patterns, numbers of birds, and other scientific stuff. Costs $15 a year and is fun to do. It runs from mid-November to April, but you only have to pick out a two-week period that's convenient for you. Here's the link. And no, they don't fuss at you if you forget.)

Back to my post -- The bird feeder swings in the air, and as I watched, several more birds flew down to feast. Except this was not acceptable to the birds already there, so there ensued a no-nonsense air battle whereupon everyone flew away.

I guess the birds could see my reflection in the window because they wouldn't stay around long enough for me to get group pictures or do a mini movie. This picture was taken through the screen and glass, and you can't see it but the feeder hangs from a tree branch.

Sugar Franklin always loved watching this view -- there are always seeds on the ground for the ground feeders and I use safflower seed in the feeder because the bigger birds (crows, starlings) aren't interested in safflower seeds. To the left of the neighbor's house and the feeder you can see part of the neighbor's back yard and out over into the street. She always had something interesting to keep track of when her slave wasn't home to provide scritches and treats.

I am most assuredly getting better. It's still strange to speak of her in the past tense, but I can speak of her now without bursting into tears and that's a sure sign of improvement.

Well, it's Saturday and I have a long, long list of things to get done today. God knows my parrots won't help with any of it . . . .

Little Flash and Nicholas showcased tonight!

Let's see -- Sugar Franklin acted ever so slightly distressed on Saturday; tail bobbing just a tiny bit, sleeping a lot. She'd laid an egg on Tuesday, so I knew there was another one on the way despite my very best lectures to her. The vet's office closes at noon on Saturday so I rushed her in, whereupon she perked up enough to make a liar out of me. She was about 5 grams heavier than usual, and the vet felt the mass without a shell. That one only cost me $55, but I'm made of money, you know.

She laid a perfect egg on Sunday morning, whereupon she's been her usual feisty aggravating self.

Work has been quiet this week; my supervisor is on vacation. Thank you, God.

The weather is typical for us this time of year. Seventy degrees one day, snow the next. It rained most of last weekend and was warm this week, but they're warning us of snow for the weekend,

I've been having all kinds of epiphanies (I don't think that's spelled right) related to my piano lessons. My self-talk is not good, and I'm way too hard on myself and get frustrated because I can't "do it right," which leads to more negative self-talk, which leads to more frustration and the growth of nine extra fingers, none of which will strike the right key.

O is going to Europe for three weeks, and she gave me three weeks' worth of homework. Mostly scales, which I hate, but these are supposed to help me learn to play with hands in one position and then lift my hands to move to another position. This sounds so easy I imagine my two readers are lifting their eyebrows, but believe me it is incredibly difficult to move and get your fingers all arranged in a completely different position within the space of a quarter note. Even though she always insists I go as slow as I need to, but still.

Last week's lesson included a song in which I was to play stacco (short, clipped notes) with my left hand while playing legato (smooth and connected) with my right. At the same time. I simply could not and still can't do it. O and I had a really bad lesson this week because of it, but we worked it out.

I bought a metronome a couple of weeks ago. I'd never seen one other than on TV before. It's a little electronic, digital thing that will beep from 40 beats a minute to over 200 beats a minute. I tend to stay around 64 to 68. It will do all manner of other things but I have no clue what they are or what good they'd do me. Anyway, it sort of made me feel like a real musician. Or at least a reasonable facsimile of one.