On October 23, 2003 — one year, one month, and fourteen days after it was first introduced — Sally discovered the white concrete perch. She's gone from completely ignoring it (if not actually fearing it) to absolutely loving it. She sits on it with Frank, as shown. She sits on it alone. She sits facing into the Finsterium, she sits facing out. She sits on it with Tea. ! She sits on it with Decaffeinated. ! Once, she even sat on it with Tea and Decaffeinated. !!! Wish I'd gotten a picture of that one, because frankly, it's practically unbelievable.

That Sally is one wild and crazy Finster.

Well, bread isn't exactly evil. It's just that, when you pop a bit of bread into the Finsterium plain and naked (see top), it's a little scary. In fact, the Finsters spent several hours (yes, hours) flicking their wings, making warning calls, and staying high on perches. But when you put the bread on the nice, familiar clay-colored dish (see bottom), it suddenly becomes potential food. Turns out that bread is pretty tasty, but not nearly as popular among Finsters as it is with the squirrels. Go figure.

Remember this nasty poop from late July? Well, since then, from time to time, I have seen a few questionable poops, a few nasty poops, one small blood clot, and a few indications that one of the birds is eliminating blood only. For the most part, these incidents have been sporadic. And still, I can't tell which bird or birds is ill. It's a frustrating mystery — a single bird losing this much blood should be showing signs of illness, but I really haven't seen anything conclusive. So, I've kept up with vitamins and calcium supplements, I've increased protein, and I've been watching the birds quite a bit.

On October 8, I found a blood stain on the paper under a perch where Frank and Sally most often sit. So I had Bruce catch them both that evening, and I put them both in the hospital cage. The plan was to keep them out for a week or so, or until a bad poop appeared in one of the two cages. Either I'd be able to pin the problem down to Frank or Sally, or I'd be able to eliminate them from the pool. It was a reasonable plan, but the birds didn't cooperate.

By the end of the next day, I noticed that the seed dish in the hospital cage hadn't been disturbed much, and it looked like Frank and Sally hadn't touched their soaked seeds at all. This surprised me, since the last time Frank was in the hospital cage he flicked seeds all over. This morning I put fresh paper down, and gave them a clean water dish and a fresh dish of seeds. I also added a bit of millet spray. I kept my eye on them, but didn't ever see them eating. Finally, I left them completely alone for about three hours, figuring my presence near that small hospital cage was disturbing them.

When I came back: nothing. Frank and Sally were on a hunger strike! I couldn't let them starve to death, so despite the fact that my plan hadn't worked — no bad poops in either cage, so no clues to the poop problem — I put them back in the Finsterium.

The experiment wasn't a total loss, I suppose. Both birds appeared healthy, Frank had a chance to bite me again, I trimmed three toenails between them, and a small abrasion on one of Frank's toes got two doses of anti-bacterial ointment. Still, who knew Finsters were such political creatures?