Surgery

One of avian vets told me she thought Sugar's impacted preen gland might be cancer, but I needed to see Dr Z (the premier avain vet in this area of the country), who was in Europe but due back in two days.

I was just sick for two days -- the thought of surgery, the dangers, the prognosis, the expense.

Dr Z said she didn't think it was cancer, but it might be a tumor. And was not uncommon in cockatiels. Please note how she said "not uncommon" rather than "common." What's the difference?

OR it could just be infected. So I'm giving this tiny bundle of yellow feathers and arrogant will power warm compresses and oral antibiotics twice a day.

Sugar takes these meds about as well as can be expected: biting, sticking her tongue against the syringe tip, slinging the meds everywhere, clamping her little beak shut. It's supposed to be sweet so she'll take it -- and when she slung it out yesterday all over my face, I couldn't help but notice that it was sweet. sigh . . .

I'm to see Dr Z Wednesday; she said if the redness and swellling hadn't lessened by Wednesday it was probably a tumor and would require laser surgery, which is quick and clean.

It seemed to me last night that some of the redness had gone,so I've got my fingers crossed.

But, worry queen that I am -- how did this happen and how can I prevent it from happening again?

Oh, and about the eggs -- Sugar's having "fun" sitting on her eggs. She's healthy, on a good diet, and gets plenty of calcium so I'm going to let her be. At least until this preen gland situation gets worked out.

Finishing Up

The book is mostly finished -- well, the writing of it anyway. Now I have to get Charli to pose for the cover picture -- ha! Then I have to format it, do an index and table of contents, get my ISBN, then get it converted over into PDF to match CafePress' standards.

Sugar has been sneaking around and laying eggs now every ten days or so. Enough is enough, so this week she's going for a Lupron shot. Plus her preen gland is getting impacted again.

Who knew such a tiny little bundle of feathers could be so much trouble and so expensive?

I've been invited to a concert out of town in a couple of weeks, which means I'd be out of town for maybe 30 hours. Which means I'll have to find a bird sitter to check on my babies lest they (the birds) open their cages and trash the place. Only there are only two people that I know of who bird sit, and they're both expensive and overbooked. I'm almost tempted not to go to the concert because it'll be so much aggravation arranging things.

Rain, Rain, Go Away . . . .

Things have been normal (whatever that means) around
the house for about a week now. Sugar laid another
egg, and when I threatened to take her to the vet for
a Lupron injection, she stopped.

Stormy here today; sudden rain interspersed with
sudden sunlight.

I know my birds mostly sleep while I'm at work, but I
can't help but suspect they do some communicating,
too. I mean, there are four of them in the same
room, sharing the same environment and the same
human. Anthropomorphizing again, but what the hell.

I've gotten the too-short first draft of my book
done, and am waiting on some feedback from a couple
of folks who know the technical stuff better than me.
I wish they'd hurry back with their suggestions; I
want to get the thing finished and done with.

I was busy last night and didn't have time to take my
birds out for individual scritches. I'll be busy
tomorrow night, too, so I might skip my chorus
rehearsal tonight in order to spend some quality
avian. And maybe even get my laundry caught up.

Spring Drought

It's been very hot here for the past week, with no

relief in sight. And it isn't even officially summer

yet.

We're in a moderate drought status, and talk of rain

now comes easily into conversations with strangers.

My birds, of course, are oblivious to all this.

Their environment is cool, they have abundant food

and water, plenty of toys for amusement, and a staff

person to cater to their every desire.

But something in their physiology responds to what's

going on outside. They've all been molting more than

usual this season. I come home and there are

feathers all over the floor, as if a wild animal had

caught one of my babies and left behind only

feathers. But all the birds are intact, with bits of

down feathers and the occasional flight or contour

feather falling out.

The new feather sheaths are itchy and prickly, so I

have to be very careful about helping them preen

themselves. Once false move in the wrong place and

I'll re-learn a valuable lesson.

Eggs, Eggs, Eggs

This morning Sugar Franklin presented me with her third egg since Saturday. I've taken her in for four hormone shots already this spring, and I thought she was over for the season. She lays them in her food cup, using the pellets as a sort of nesting material, I guess.

People wonder why I worry about her laying eggs. The eggs aren't fertile, and laying can be hard on her little body. Deplete her levels of calcium, danger of becoming egg bound, and so on.

Of course, she's quite full of herself. She'll rip the flesh from my hand if I dare stick my hand in her cage but otherwise prances around like she's the first and only creature to give birth.

So I put her fresh pellets in another dish. I rearrange things in her cage to off-set her sense of safety, and I put her to bed early. Today I've got a call into the vet to see if she needs another hormone shot.

sigh . . .

I made orange cupcakes on Sunday, and Charli's been in heaven with the bites of cake I give her. I think oranges are her most favorite food, though almonds come in a close second. And blueberries. And peanuts.

What do the Bobbsey Twins and Sugar Franklin love the most? Almonds and peanuts. Vegetables, they seem to think, are to be avoided at all costs lest a molecule come near their beaks. Unless, of course, it's mashed potatoes or birdie bird stuffed full of mixed vegetables and squash baby food and crushed nuts.

When I die I’m coming back as my birds.