Progress. That's what little Mouse and Blogger are making. Aren't they cute? Blogger was sharing some seeds with Mouse when I took this photo. They bicker sometimes, mostly when fighting for the same spot on a perch, but otherwise, they are tight. And these days, they are both coming out to play with Tori and the gang. In fact, tonight Mouse climbed out and up to the top of his house, and Blogger flew out, around the room, and up to one of the playgyms. Twice. Both even took the time to explore Google's new house, too.
Now when Mouse flutters to the floor because he's still light on flight feathers, he allows me to pick him up. Or, really, he steps up onto my hand and let's me escort him upward. It's amazing progress. They still don't like it when I try to go inside their house to bring them out, but, if I'm patient, that will come in time. It took a long time for Texter to allow me to do that. He let's me bring him out, and tuck him in at night. Other than that, he makes the call. So, I'm feeling encouraged at this progress. A week ago I was feeling a bit sad and overwhelmed. Wondering if I would do them justice. Presently, it seems, we're doing OK.
Tori seems to be feeling better since starting the new meds. At least he hasn't thrown up since Friday. It's only been a few days, but I hope this continues. He looks a bit rough. He's got some new pin feathers around his face, and the rest are kind of mucked up from the sticky medicine. I'm trying very hard to get every drop in him, but it's a challenge. The vet tech showed me a better way to administer the meds, and it's helping. I hope. I'm trying not to obsess about the lump the doc talked about. Hoping that it's just a wayward fat deposit and it will go away with time, exercise, and more fruits and vegetables. I'm praying.
Tomorrow I'll go and donate blood, try to keep the good karma flowing.
The rest of the gang seemed to have a good day, too. Pumpkin and Google seem to be trying to become friends. One or the other will make an effort, it seems to take for a moment, then one of them gets skittish. They're still getting there, I think.
Texter seems to delight in "stalking" Miss Pixel. His games of "I'm not touching you...am I bothering you?" seem to irritate, and delight, her at the same time. Ah, relationships...
In our neighborhood there is a family that has a parakeet. During the summer I would drive by their house and notice they had their parakeet, in it's cage, hanging outside on their porch. It always caught my eye. I worried they wouldn't bring it in soon enough. That the temperatures would drop in the evening, the bird would get a chill, then get sick. I'm aware that a lot of bird owners/lovers take their birds outside. There are differing opinions on this, and I can respect that.
However, on my way home from work tonight, nearing 7pm, I drove by their house and saw their parakeet outside. Officially, it's spring, but weather-wise, it isn't. The temperature at that time was a mere 36 degrees (F)! I damn near slammed on the breaks a-la Fred Flinstone. I thought, maybe they cleaned the cage with bleach and water and put it outside to air out or something. But it was nagging at me. I drove around the block and went back. Sure enough, the bird was in the cage.
I was fuming. Shaking, even. There was no way I could go home without taking action. I parked the car and walked up to their front door and rang the bell. A young woman answered. I'm not sure how much english she can speak. It was a short conversation. I simply said hello, and that I noticed their bird was outside. Somehow she misunderstood me and thought I said their dog had gotten outside. She went to look for the dog. I tried to explain, pointing, that I was concerned about the bird (I could hear the dog barking inside). She said it was her brothers. He came out. I greeted him. Explained that I live in the area, that I have many parakeets, and that it was too cold for the bird to be outside today.
He insisted, the bird is happy. He likes to be outside. I said, "Yes, but not today. It's too cold. Not until it's warmer." Then I just asked him, "Please, please take him inside. It's too cold. I don't want him to get sick." He humored me. He took the bird inside. I said "thank you".
Perhaps they think I'm crazy. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe parakeets can withstand those kinds of temperatures. I have to admit, the bird wasn't puffed up like it was cold. But I did notice that, unlike my spoiled feathered children, he had no toys in his cage. I'm fighting the urge to gift that bird with a few.
I didn't get the impression that they didn't care about the little budgie. In fact, I'm pretty sure that they are putting the bird outside because it likes it. I admit, when I drove by in the summer, it seemed to be singing happily on its swing. But still, it was only 36. Near freezing. I couldn't, in good conscious, let it go. Maybe they'll wait until spring really does arrive to put him out again. I hope so.
I don't know if it's age, peri-menopause, life experiences, or just neurotic tendencies, but I'm finding it harder and harder not to act on things like this. I suppose I could just mind my own business, but I do like to sleep at night. And if I was wrong to butt in, well, I can live with that better than I can a frozen, innocent, little bird.