The Battle of the Seed

Cheb was on an all-seed diet when I adopted him. In fact, I suspect he's been on an all-seed diet all of his life.  We don't know exactly how old he is, but I think he's relatively young.

Getting him on Harrison's is one of my first goals with him.  In this picture is his usual mixed seed, which he is ignoring in favor of bits of millet spray.

He evidently doesn't recognize pellets as food. I've been crumbling up Nutriberries on top of his seed mix, and he seems to like those pretty well -- ignoring the pellets, of course.

Flash's basic diet is Harrison's, so I'm really hoping he'll show Cheb that they're okay to eat when quarantine is over.  I'm also hoping Flash will teach Cheb how to use the water bottle.

Cheb talks and whistles all day, and Flash shrieks and paces and worries because there's another cockatiel in the house he can't see.  I reassure him as best I can, but he isn't convinced.

Cheb's First Vet Exam

 




Cheb went in for this first well-bird exam yesterday.  He bit the technician several times and fought the veterinarian with all his might when she poked and prodded him.  I'll take him back Monday for blood work.













Here Cheb is surveying the exam room, including my cup of coffee, the veterinarian's glasses, and Cheb's new microchip documentation.

New Birdie

If I had unlimited time and money and

space I'd love to have four or five of each species of parrot.  

But I have neither the time or money or space, so I'm perfectly happy now with Charli and with Flash.

Until I saw this little cockatiel offered for adoption from a local dog and cat rescue.

His name is Cheb. He was found under a car three years ago by a woman who kept him until now. She's working full-time and going to school full time, which doesn't leave much time for Cheb.

He is extremely smart. He says "whatcha doin" and "pretty bird" and seems to be working on some new words.  He loves to whistle and sing, too.

Toast

I admit it -- I love toast. Hot from the toaster oven, smeared with real butter, topped with marmalade or jelly.

This morning I had cinnamon and sugar on my toast. On real bread from Great Harvest, not that squishy blob stuff from the chain grocery.

And I'll admit this, too -- today's post isn't really about toast.  Toast is just my way of easing into the act of writing something other than the endless comments on Facebook.

The third thing I'll admit is that I'm severely addicted to Facebook. I love the stream of colorful posts between snippy saying from people I've never met but consider to be "friends" because we've shared Facebook posts for years.

sigh . . . .

It's been a rough week.  No doubt about that.  My last aunt died a few weeks ago, then Liz Wilson died, and then I got the news that my last uncle (not related to my last aunt) was not expected to live much longer. I had a bad episode of depression, so bad in fact, that I was mean to my therapist. I'm sure he's used to far more abuse than someone like me can hand out, but I feel rotten about it. An apology is in order, and he'll get one at our next appointment.

I continue to job search, with no success.  I've written a couple of articles for which I won't get paid; more of a favor than anything else, plus it's good for my so-called discipline. Well, if I actually had any discipline, that is.


Had a quick chat with the tomato guy at the local farmers' market yesterday morning.  He told me what plants to order, which I will. I do this every year, without any success, but I love tomatoes and sooner or later they'll thrive!

I'm not 100% sure how I feel about the police not giving Miranda Rights to that guy who bombed Boston earlier this week. He's an American citizen, so he has those rights regardless, right? They've certainly got more than enough evidence to convict him.

L and I went to that restaurant out of town I've been wanting to visit.  Beautiful farm country, 30 minutes from my house, deserted roads, delicious food, good service. I had the country ham and swiss po-boy; L had the pulled pork sandwich. I ate too much dessert.

It's going to be a beautiful day. Tonight I'm joining Bev and some of her friends at Bella Notte to celebrate her birthday (which is tomorrow).

Liz

She could be maddening.

Stubborn.

A real pain in the ass.

But we loved her anyway.

(Saturday, April 13, 2013)