Squawks of Gilbert

A few days ago we got a new houseguest. He was small and grey, with a long stringy tail. He was camping out on our patio, and during the day he would pick up the scraps that the wild birds left on the ground. I don’t think he had a real home. He was very polite, though, and he was doing a good job of cleaning up the patio. He came to our window a few times and on Friday he finally introduced himself. His name was Rodney and he was a rodent. But last night, Daddy put out a special machine with peanut butter on it, and this morning Rodney was fast asleep in the machine and didn’t wake up when Daddy picked up the machine and put it in a bag. Now he’s gone. Rest in peace, Rodney.

So the evil one thinks he got the best deal yesterday. Hehehehe. While he was entertaining the tiny featherless ones — with their sticky hands and weak limbs — I was cruising in style. My auntie Michelle took me to all the best stalls, where I was given treats and snacks and proper adoration by the full-sized fans. They know how to treat a guest! The band was even playing as I entered the market — a solemn tune, though, not the usual zydeco that I love so much. It probably had something to do with the evil one. Happy dance music is never appropriate when he’s around.

And he’s so paranoid about predators. Sheesh. Doesn’t he know by now that Amber and Daddy would never let anything bad happen to us? Or maybe it’s that he knows that if they had to save only one of us, it would be me. So he has to be vigilant for his own sake. Oooooh. That makes sense. It must be hard being him.

As for the vomiting, well, some guys just get carsick. I didn’t used to, but Amber got a new car, and the roads were very windy yesterday. And I’d had a big breakfast, and I was trying to read in the car. Well, you know how it is. Like he’s ever driven cross-country. Ha! I bet he’ll be spewing a different tune when we drive up to Seattle.

Did I tell you about our new home? We’re going to have our own room — not one that we have to share with the computers. And we get a sunroom, too. Windows all around and on top. The evil one will be busy scanning the skies, little knowing that the glass will protect him. He’s such a yokel. I wonder what Miss Cricket will think. She used to fly free like the predators, so she might like looking up at the sky. I wonder what that was like, flying free. Oh well. Can’t miss what you never had. My life is good, good, good, so I have no complaints. Except about the evil one….

So apparently the little fatty has decided to sic Amber on me in a form of psychological warfare. They always have trouble getting him to bed, but since I’m so low maintenance I usually get a great nights sleep .. until last night that is .. banging noises in the dark followed blinding light .. I scooted for the floor and wedged in real good .. no way I was going anywhere untill I was sure what was going on.

Today they took us to the farmers market .. the ride was long, but jeez, the plucked one was throwing up just about the minute the car started to move .. you’d think that he’d be used to it, but no..just spewage everywhere, its no worse than flying .. but maybe he can’t tell cuz all he ever does is tumble to the floor with nary a flap.

Anyway it was nice to be out, but it’s way too exposed, it seems like Amber and Daddy never look around to see if anything is coming .. standing right out in the open we’re way too bright of a target, its a good thing I have sharp eyes.. especially with that reflecting collar that whiny wears.

Because I’m the well behaved one, I got to play with all of the mini Ambers and daddys .. most of them aren’t very good perches but Daddy was always close. I guess the picker got all of the attention that he normally craves .. mostly pity for the collar of discipline .. and he didn’t get to play with the mini’s very much, probably because he’s not the friendliest of the flock. The best is we get dried (semi popped) corn on the cob, it makes a great thump if you push it over the edge after you’re done with it.

Well here’s a surpise — there’s actually something that Baby Huey (aka, the evil one) and I agree on: The only dinner worth eating is corn! Broccoli isn’t dinner. Spinach isn’t dinner. Corn and green beans are nice accompaniments, but they’re not dinner either. So I don’t know where Amber got this idea to cut back the corn and try to sneak in all those greens. Sure, they serve their purpose — they’re healthy, lots of fiber, fun to play with. But for all-out dinner enjoyment, you can’t beat corn. Get it, food sources?!

nervous disorder my claw .. I think Amber’s just enabling him.. the other day he was quite full of himself, tried to stand up like a rooster .. just when it was getting fun we tumbled down and *poof* he runs away and hides under the bed collar and all. And whats with this eating junk food thing? most of it is poisonous, even Daddy doesn’t eat it very often if at all, I’m more than willing to parade for healthy foods .. especially since you get more attention when you’re quiet and nice instead of a psychotic beaky bird .. no one trusts him and its no wonder why.

I’ve also noticed that Cricket appears to be making inroads into the food supply, I may have to put her back in her place too.. they just keep her cage a bit too close to mine.. I hear we’re going to be moving north soon, its a good thing I have a fully fluffed set of feathers, I think the weather will be no problem at all .. don’t know how that plucked chicken is going to fare though .. last time he was in a wooded environment I hear he got lost in the stickers for the better part of the day, this time it’ll be wet and cold too.

Wow. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Our computer has been up and down and down and up. And anytime it was up, Amber had work to do. This is my first opportunity to finally write in weeks!

So the freedom to which I refer was short-lived. The other day, Daddy took my collar off — and it was wonderful! I was able to scratch that little spot on my tail that I haven’t been able to reach for months. And my neck! All those little feathers needing to be preened and plucked. Uh oh. Did I say plucked? Well, therein lies the problem. It’s my nervous disorder. No sooner do I start preening than it turns to plucking. I just get all twitchy and I can’t control myself. Amber says it’s neurological, that it’s not my fault. I try not to pluck — really, I try soooo hard. But it’s just beyond my control. Sometimes I feel kind of bad about it, especially when the evil one makes fun of me. Or when other people say how beautiful he is and say I look like a plucked chicken. I look nothing like a chicken. I’ve seen them. Not even close. But Amber says I’m beautiful and really that’s all that matters. And my collar is quite elegant, in fact. It makes my feathers fan out like a lion’s mane. So life’s not so bad….

The other night was Halloween. We got to see lots of monsters and cartoon characters. It was funny. But Amber and Daddy wouldn’t let us have any candy, so I was pissed. How fair is that??? And there was so much left over, just sitting there. Shining and smelling yummy. I managed to grab a piece, but Amber got it away from me before I could taste it. But oh it smelled sweet. But she gave me a grape instead, and that was okay.

Well, so much happened in the last few weeks — and I’m sure it was exciting and fun — but I really can’t remember it now. But trust me, you missed a lot!

Until later.