I'm sure I've mentioned that the Finsterium is in the kitchen of my apartment — in fact, it takes up most of the kitchen. So when I'm doing almost anything in there, the birds watch. And wait. And hope for tasty new snacks. You might think that Peanut is paying the most attention in this picture, but Tea wins that contest, every time. Tea's attentive stare often convinces me to find something tasty to give the Finsters, even if my original task in the kitchen had nothing to do with food. Click here for a close up of Tea staring me into submission.

Peanut and Bruce were rough-housing this afternoon, chasing each other, eating tasty seeds, yelling at each other, having a great time. Then Bruce left, and Peanut flew onto my head while I was sitting on the couch. He preened me for a minute, then — still a bit rambunctious — he hopped to the back of the couch, hopped to my shoulder, and started chewing on my shirt sleeve. Finally, he settled down a bit, and sat on my arm, right at the elbow. After a minute, I realized he was sleeping on my arm! Poor little over-stimulated bird!

Birds have a habit of wiping both sides of their beaks on a perch or other handy object — a quick left-right, or a quick right-left. This serves two purposes, the most obvious one being to keep the beak clean. It also helps keep the beak trimmed properly, since the action slowly wears down the beak material, which keeps growing. Some bird's beaks grow too much, and need to be trimmed (vet's offices do this, if they're familiar with birds). A perch made of hard material, like concrete, can also help keep a beak trimmed.

Darjeeling, shown in this photo, usually keeps herself quite clean. But she was snacking on soaked seeds when I interrupted her to take this photo. I'm sure she wiped her beak clean once I closed the door and walked away.

I'd love to get some clear photos of the Finsters just hanging out, doing bird things. But to get a clear photo I have to open the door, and once I do that they all fly up to the perches, watch my every move, and wait for me to go away. At least they don't fly around in a panic (often out of the Finsterium) like they did a few years ago.

Although I love the Finsterium, my dream is to have a room in a house something like the walk-through exhibits at the Toledo Zoo. At the zoo, people walk along a designated path through a room, and on either side (or only one side) is the living space for birds. The rooms are big enough that the birds don't panic — although I don't know what they do with crowds of people around.

My dream room is mostly dedicated to things for the birds to play on, with a small table and chairs in one corner for me to sit and drink tea. Oh, and tease the Finsters with tempting millet spray. Of course, I probably still couldn't get any clear photos — except of birds hiding in ficus trees.

Click to see a close up of the birds on the left: from the front, Frank, Decaffeinated (hiding), Bosco, Tea, Darjeeling, and Goober is on the wall. Click to see a close up of the birds on the right: from the front: Decaffeinated, Earl Grey, Bosco (hiding), Frank, and Sally. With a couple of overlaps, this is all the Finsters, although not everybody is quite in focus.

I'm sure Peanut would like to think that he has magical Seed Powers, and is capable of teleporting unlimited snacks into his dish, as well as instantly calling the Big Sweaty Hand into being whenever it's time for Warm Toasties. In fact, he's pretty timid, and even when snacks are available, if they're in a new spot, he doesn't go after them like you'd think he would.

Take this bubble wrap. It's evil, you know, and all of Peanut's squawking and head bobbing didn't bring those seeds any closer. He yelled and yelled, but wouldn't step onto the bubble wrap, despite the fact that the seed pile kept growing. Finally, I moved that one seed closer to him. After more yelling and head bobbing, he finally walked onto the wrap, ate the one sunflower seed, and walked right off again, leaving the pile untouched.

Which is just as well. That's way too many tasty seeds for one sitting.

Frank On the top left perch, singing his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song. But now, since the birds are in a busy mood, he's on the top right perch preening Sally.

Sally Snacking at the left seed tower. But now, she's on the top right perch, being preened by Frank.

Tea Singing just the start of his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song, and then preening while on the pink concrete perch. But now, on the pink concrete perch, watching me.

Earl Grey Preening on the white concrete perch. But now, preening on the white concrete perch.

Goober The Wall Bird is hanging on the left side wall of the Finsterium. But now, she's on the top right perch, preening.

Bosco Snacking on the wheat grass. But now, sitting on top of the second nest box from the left.

Darjeeling Playing with the string from the perch. But now, sitting on top of the second nest box from the left.

Decaffeinated Snacking on the wheat grass. But now, preening on the top right perch.

Peanut On my head. But now, on my head.

This morning I did the semi-big cage cleaning in the Finsterium, so the water dish was out of the cage for quite a while, probably close to an hour. I finished putting all the paper down, I put the dry water dish into the cage, and then decided my hands were too covered in newsprint to fill it up just then. As I was washing my hands, all the Society Finsters flew down to the water dish. They dipped their beaks into the dish to suck up a bit of water, they tipped their beaks up to swallow it — but, um, there was no water. They kept drinking anyway, although they realized something was wrong, of course. A couple of Finsters hopped into the water to try to take a bath, but that didn't work very well, either. Finally, I shooed them all away to fill the dish up with water. They all flew down again for drinks, and all was well.

In case you were wondering, I didn't mess with their little heads on purpose, I won't do it again, but it was very funny to watch.

When the Finster's water/bath dish has been out of the Finsterium for awhile — sometimes they're on the ground snacking when I'm ready with the cleaned dish, so I wait for them to finish before I put it back — all the Society finches fly right down to the dish for a drink. At any other time, they're more interested in a fresh dish of soaked seeds, or a leaf of lettuce, but if the water dish has been out for awhile, then they think it's the best thing ever.

All six birds drop down, catching themselves at the last second to land on the edge of the dish. Then they all sit, facing the center of the dish, taking a drink or two. It's a very peaceful moment, and lasts awhile if I'm not there trying to take pictures. Wish I could get that one.

I got it! The photo is out of focus, but the box is full of Finsters. From front to back: Decaffeinated, Tea, Goober, Darjeeling, and Earl Grey. A four inch square box, filled with soft, sweet Finster goodness!

This is Peanut on his play gym that sits in the office. He'll climb down to that yellow dish if I add a couple of oat groats, or if he's in the mood for the ever-present crumbles. But when he's thirsty, he stays on his perch, and looks down at the blue dish. He looks at the dish, looks at me, looks back down at the dish, back at me, sometimes he'll squeak a little. Finally — it's true, I let Peanut win this game — I pick up the blue dish and hold it for him while he drinks. Thus saving him the 8 1/2 inch climb for a refreshing beverage.

He's so spoiled.

This event wasn't actually a race to get out. Instead, I had the Finsterium door wide open, camera in hand; all the Finsters had finished their fluttering around, and Tea (in the box) and Goober (on the porch) were patiently waiting for me to get bored of flashing a light in their faces. Now that's a game that the Finsters always win. Click here for a close up (220K).

This yellow dish hangs on the left side of the Finsterium. A few oat groats and sometimes a sunflower seed get hidden under some paper strips, the cloth strip gets flipped over on top, and Peanut gets to have at it.

I keep trying to get pictures of Peanut in the act of flicking paper strips around — he does it often enough that you'd think it would be easy to record. But no. Instead, here's a picture of Peanut's butt.

This is a bit of string tied around perch hardware to keep Peanut from hurting himself. As you can see, the Finsters have pulled some of it inside their cage. I used to use a strip of cloth (scroll down a bit to see), which also was a pretty good toy. But this string is even better. I've seen all the Finsters playing with it — even Sally! At first the Societies tried to fly off with the string bits to make a nest, but now everybody chews at the string. I guess it's a little like preening.

This evening was Goober's 2nd (last) dose, 10th (last) day of antibiotics. She was much easier to catch than Frank was; he hovers in mid-air, even when it's dark. Goober was much more likely to skitter around on the floor. At the beginning of the ten days, she opened her beak to try to bite the dropper, but by the end of it, she kept her beak closed, and simply tried to squirm out of my hand. I haven't given too many birds a course of antibiotics, but this seems to be pretty typical. Getting a drop in their mouths is unlikely; getting a drop on (or near) their beaks is about all you can hope for.

After a quick and relatively unsuccessful photo opportunity (although you can barely make out the pink on her beak), I popped her back into the Finsterium. Here's where you realize it's kind of a drag to be female.

Earl Grey was down on the floor first, singing his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song and dancing his Hunka Hunka Burning Love dance. Tea was down second, but he was the first to mount Goober. I guess it's a male pecking order thing. All the other Societies were down on the floor by this point, of course. The two males kept singing, dancing, and following her, and she kept hopping away. I broke up some of the attention — although she should be "healed" from the mystery ailment, antibiotics kill beneficial gut bacteria along with the bad, so she's probably not feeling her best. Things settled down after a few minutes.

Still don't know what was wrong with Goober, but I'll watch her for the next few days. Hopefully, she'll be fine now.

Update: 18:02 Goober is in a nest box now, damp from a proper bath, back with the flock.

This walkway, with Vince's Cafe at the end, shows the view to my apartment. The arrow pointing to the right shows the window where the Finsterium sits. The arrow to the left shows where all the neighborhood cats sit. Watching. Drooling. Waiting and hoping.
This is one of them. There's also a grey one, a white one with some orange bits, and probably a few more. This one, or perhaps a different black one, tried very hard to follow me into the apartment one day. D*mn cat.

We were without electricity for about 20 hours. Then, we had a massive thunder and lighting storm. Things are back to normal here, though. The Finsters were a bit flummoxed, but not too badly; everyone can use an early night. Goober is very bored. Peanut is happy as long as I'm nearby.

Here's a lovely photo of Peanut for your viewing pleasure. You can also click here for a big version (220 K).

Poor pink Goober really wants to take a bath. And with that messy vent of hers, she really needs one. But the white water dish I use in the hospital cage is just a bit too small for a proper bath. I didn't worry too much when Frank was in the hospital cage, desperate for a bath, but Goober should really take one for medical reasons. So I put this clay-colored dish in the cage still dry — it barely fits through the door diagonally. Then I filled it with the usual white dish. Not five minutes had gone by before Goober had the whole place wet with water. Now that's a bath!

Apart from the fact that I have to clean out (well, dry out) the cage after the bath, it's pretty easy to do. I'm surprised I didn't think about it before.

Don't worry about the status of a bird poop until after you change out the black light bulb for a regular one.

So far, Goober has been pretty cooperative about taking her medicine, but not at all cooperative about holding still while she drinks it. She's getting a bit pink.

I managed to get an appointment for early afternoon, which is a relief. The vet poked and prodded her, weighed her (15 grams), accidentally let her fly away (most of my birds manage to do that!), plucked a few feathers off from around her vent area (ouch!), and presribed an antibiotic. With such a small bird it's hard to tell anything for sure, since you can't draw blood for tests, but her vent was clearly messy, so there's something going on. Hopefully those magical antibiotics will take care of what's ailing her.

I just know she's looking forward to getting smeared with pink stuff every day.

Bruce has been hanging around little birds so much he noticed an anomoly: Goober had a poop hanging from her vent. I know, yuck. But poop provides one of the few signs that something is wrong with a bird. We tried to catch her, but it's practically impossible in the daylight, so we waited until dark.

Birds do one of two things when they are having a hard time eliminating. They either strain very hard, or they flick their butts more vigorously than usual. Goober was doing the latter. Unsuccessfully, as it turns out, although there was only that one dangler. So she's in the hospital cage, with a drop of calcium first just in case (no signs of eggs, though), where it's warm and quiet.

Frank just tried to boink Decaffeinated. Really! He hopped on her back, hung on with his feet, fluttered his wings for a few seconds! Unbelievable! And here I thought him singing his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song in her general direction last night was just a coincidence — they were on the small white concrete perch together, but he could just as well have been singing to Sally, who was right behind him.

But no! Actual bird sex between species!

Well, a couple of minutes later Frank sang to Sally, so maybe he's just in the mood.

The lighting is a little off in this photo of Bosco and Goober (and an unidentified tea-colored bird). Apart from that, it shows that Goober won. You see, when there are a few Societies in a nest box, and I approach the Finsterium with a camera, and particularly when I open the big door, the Finsters have a contest to see how many birds can get out at the same time (one — always, only one), and which one gets out first. This time, Goober won.

I keep trying to capture a photo of several birds in one of the nest boxes, since it's a very sweet image. All those little faces looking out at the world. But they never cooperate.

Sometimes, like on the left, the Finsters don't seem to mind me watching them and taking pictures. But sometimes, like on the right, they seem to get pretty annoyed. Both photos are of Darjeeling, on different days.

Now, once a day I open the big door in the middle of the Finsterium to clean up, and my upper body is literally in the cage. After so many years, the Finsters just watch me. In fact, some of them (most often Tea and Bosco, although others play, too) buzz my head. So exactly why Darjeeling seems so offended is something of a mystery. But maybe she was trying to take a nap.

It's not a perfect photo, but it is proof that Frank is back in the Finsterium. I was more than ready to put him back home, and luckily his toe cooperated. No scab (and I didn't even have to pick it for him). Frank and Sally spent almost a full minute peeping to each other. Later, Frank preened Sally's head. And then he sat on the white concrete perch for awhile. (Now that I think about it, he hadn't been on those concrete perches when his toe was at its worst. Concrete wouldn't be very comfortable.) I didn't see him take a bath, but I'm sure it was a long one.

I discovered another nasty looking P**P in the Finsterium before I put Frank back. But this one was on top of some pink ink on the newspaper, so it's probably fine. It's been so long since I saw that nasty poop, I'm declaring all the Finsters to be fine.

While all finches are social creatures, they usually only spend time with birds of their own kind. For the most part, this has also been the case in the Finsterium. The exception are the Society Finsters, who are very friendly, and have been known to literally take other kinds of birds in under their wing. In fact, many finch breeders keep Societies around to raise the babies of any species that doesn't raise chicks well on their own.

Now, Frank's foot really is much better, so don't think I'm getting morbid or anything. But Frank and Sally have been apart for a long time now, with Frank away in the hospital cage, so I've been doing a bit of thinking about how they'd do if one of them actually died. They've been together for a little over five years. Any "replacement" I could get — and you don't see White-Headed Nuns available very often — would probably be a very young bird, which might not be a good match for the mature Frank and Sally.

The good news is that Frank already shows interest in the Societies. All that fascination with Tea and Earl Grey's Hunka Hunka Burning Love action suggests that he at least knows that the Society finches are birds, even if he wouldn't consider them to be companions.

With Frank out of the Big House for so long, I'm now beginning to believe that Sally thinks the same thing. When Frank is around, she's usually within six inches of him. Now that he's away, she's started to spend time with the Societies — at least, when they're eating. If they're all down eating seeds, she'll fly down and eat with them. This wouldn't be a big deal, except that I've seen her fly down to check out pepper seeds with them. Mind you, Sally doesn't eat the pepper seeds — they're not spherical enough, or actual millet, for that matter. But she was down on the ground, with the flock, checking things out.