The excitement of the day got us all up pretty early, but I decided to give the "original" Finsters a leisurely morning, so they could have a nice, normal breakfast before the new kids moved in.

At about 8:30 I took the food dish and bird bath out of the hospital cage. Then, with a string tied to the top of the cage door so we could open it easily, Bruce held the hospital cage up to the opened bottom door of the Finsterium, and we waited for the "new" Finsters to move in.

No takers. We jostled the hospital cage a little. Nothing. We knocked on the box a few times. Nothing. Despite the snacks and fresh water in plain sight, none of the birds overcame their fear of new things to take a chance. After about ten minutes of waiting we put the hospital cage back on the bookcase and I started catching birds by hand. It was actually harder than you'd think to catch nine birds in a small box. Plus, the little buggers squirmed like the dickens in my hand, nothing like the calm pudgy Societies that I've gotten used to (although Frank has been known to bite from time to time). But I caught three by about nine — two Spice finches and the Spice/Society hybrid — and popped them into the Finsterium.

Pandemonium ensued. No, worse than pandemonium. Pandelerium ensued. Pandemonium, Pandelerium, Flutterpations, Finstipations, and outright Birdlam ensued. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! Each new bird would flap wildly from one end of the Finsterium to the other, crashing into each side, again and again, bashing and clinging to the cage walls. All of this set off the "original" Finsters, who flapped and crashed around themselves. Frank, shy and flighty under normal circumstances, was particularly upset, and spent more time freaked out, flapping around and clutching the walls than I can ever remember. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

Bruce and I were ready to catch the new intruders (as if) and get them the hell away from our sweet, calm Finsters. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! We'd made a terrible, horrible mistake, and would just give those nasty new monster birds back to Emma, we were sure she'd understand.

But, after a few more minutes, all the Finsters almost barely started to calm down, so we tried again. Catching birds by hand was too hard, so we put the hospital cage on top of a couple of boxes, taped the string down to keep the door open, and waited. With a couple of familiar friends already in the Finsterium, they slowly started coming out, one by one.

Each time a new bird went into the Finsterium, it would flap around like a crazy thing, bouncing into walls, back and forth, setting off all the other birds. And then after a bit everyone would start to settle down. As each new bird came in the crazy flapping lessened a bit, I suppose because they recognized the other new birds. Bruce finally cajoled the last bird out of the hospital cage a little after 10:30. I moved the hospital cage and boxes (much to Peanut's disappointment) and we all settled down to watch.

Earl Grey, Darjeeling and Goober took to the new Society finches fairly well, probably because they recognized them as birds. Even so, there were a few hours where, whenever a "new" bird came close to an "original" bird, both birds (and any birds nearby) would partake of some crazy flapping, and would then set off even more crazy flapping when they landed. The "original" birds would try to stick together, and the "new" birds would try to stick together, all the time interrupted by the crazy flapping when anybody moved.



Food won out first. The hybrid climbed cautiously down the back wall — with several stops, starts, and start-overs — until he could reach the lettuce leaf. First, he tried to fly off with it, but since it was too big (it's a whole leaf, buddy!), he finally clung to the wall and ate the pieces he was able to tear off. Then a Spice finch climbed cautiously down the back wall, until it could reach the hybrid, and steal bits of lettuce from his beak. Slowly all the birds got up enough courage to eat, "new" birds still mostly sticking together, "original" birds sticking together, with the new Societies occasionally forming a social bridge between the groups, still with the crazy flapping but slowly — slowly — everyone getting a little less likely to get startled.

At 11:06 the new Society hen started the First Bath Event, possibly triggered by the sound of my washing dishes. The new Society male joined her, and Earl Grey and occasionally Frank sat near enough to catch some splashes. This activity triggered all the Spice finches, and the hybrid, to have at it with a grand bath. I would love to get this on film sometime. A proper bath with fresh, clean water, and a dish big enough for three or four birds to jump in at one time is a Joyous Thing (With The Wetness Everywhere). Once all the new birds got out of the way, Frank and the original Societies got their turn. The entire First Bath Event lasted a little over ten minutes.

The Second Bath Event, which required me re-filling the water dish from the Wetness Everywhere the first time, began at 3:50, was started — and ended — by the "original" Finsters, and lasted more than 15 minutes. This bodes well for my alleged allergies.

Still, despite the eating and the bathing and the slow lessening of the crazy flapping, there were enough flutterpations to make me worried about the evening. Frank (on top), and Earl Grey, Darjeeling and Goober (inside), made it to their usual nest box — the third from the right — for a brief afternoon nap. But the hybrid and Spice finches are wall-clingers, and were showing a clear preference for the top of that back wall, which would chase Frank off, even if the three inside felt safe enough to stay.

These are The Finsters, you understand. The softest, sweetest little things, ever. Ever. And I'd hate to be responsible for introducing new birds that turned out to be Devil Spawn. (Not that I have anything against the new Finsters, who — I am sure — are sweet and soft in their own right, and will turn out to be lovely once we get to know them.) (But still.)

The Finsterium light went out at 8:13 pm, which of course startled all the new birds. But night is night, and they all started settling down, with only a bit of crazy flapping from time to time. By 8:50 things were pretty quiet. The "original" Finsters in and on their proper nest box (phew!), four Spices on top of the third nest box from the left, and all the rest crowded near the back of the perch on the right. A truce, happy or no, was made. Phew.

UPDATE: At about 11:20 there was a little thud from the Finsterium. I peeked over and discovered that the new male Society had fallen off the perch. I'm sure he meant to do that. After a minute or so he flew back up to the other birds, and all seemed well.

Knowing that it would be easier to catch four Finsters we know than an extra nine Finsters we don't, we decided to do the 2004 Finsterium Cleaning before we moved the new kids in — two months early, this time.

The first task was to figure out where to put the "original" Finsters while we cleaned out their house. I realized a little too late that the only way to get the extra hardware cloth cage out of the closet would be to take everything else out first. So instead, Frank, Earl Grey, Darjeeling and Goober spent part of the day in the Popcorn Box From Hell (actually, it was a Detroit Popcorn box that had arrived a week earlier full of tasty seeds). Bruce Of The Long Arms caught them before full daylight, and I trimmed toenails and popped them into the box, all by 7:30 am. Surprisingly, despite the small size, the duct tape, and sitting out in the middle of everything on the coffee table, the birds were remarkably calm. Maybe because they could see what we were doing, and have lived through the Finsterium Cleaning several times before.

The Cleaning was very easy this time, I suppose because it had only been ten months, and (sadly) there weren't very many Finsters to poop it all up. We've been cooking as much this year as we had the year before, but (happily) we didn't run into the same sticky problem we did last year. The actual Hard Work Cleaning Part was finished by 11:00, and the Finsters were back home by 1:00, where they settled into the beautiful clean space pretty quickly.

I can't remember how long it took the "original" Finsters to be comfortable with their cage door wide open, but it was at least a couple of years. So I spent a bit of time with them, for old time's sake. It'll be awhile before the new finches let me do this.



A little before 3:00, we moved the hospital cage full of "new" Finsters into the living room so that all the birds could hear each other, and get used to the idea of new birds. Although they couldn't see each other, I was still surprised at the lack of response from the "original" birds, who barely seemed to notice anything was going on. Also, the "new" birds mostly seemed upset at being in a new room. There was very little calling back and forth between the two sets of Finsters.

Peanut, on the other hand, was very upset that the hospital cage was so close to his house. He squawked from my shoulder, he squawked from the top of his house, he squawked from the Finsterium, he squawked everywhere. Everywhere Peanut Was Squawking And Yelling At The Naughty Finsters In His Space HOW DARE THEY ENCROACH ON THE MIGHTY PEANUT!?!?! In retrospect, a spot further from Peanut's house would have been a better choice, but when you have a 600-square-foot apartment, choices are limited. The intrusion lasted less than a day, and a copious and fairly continuous scattering of snacks distracted him pretty well in the end. Plus, he got to play Peanutzilla.

Tomorrow will be the Big Day, when we move the "new" Finsters into the (Clean N Shiny) Finsterium.

Wouldn't you know, of all the vegetables I've offered to Peanut, the one he ate, the one he bit into three times, is celery. That dieter's delight that (according to a few sources, so it's probably at least close to true) takes more calories to digest than it actually contains. Mmmm, negative food. And just as devoid of nutritional elements as you'd expect from a fibrous stick that only has about 6 calories in it. Now, Peanut was on my shoulder while he took these three bites, so the celery spitballs may have landed on the floor — and not in his mouth. It could be that he simply likes the texture of the vegetable, and not the flavor. But still, celery?!? Why not spinach, or broccoli, or sweet potato, or any of the other things I've offered?

(And, yes, it's another terrible picture. But really, there are three bites in it, on the right at the top.)

So now the new Finsters are all trying to sleep in the entry way of the external bath dish. First it was three Spice finches, the choco-colored Society finch, and another two clinging to the wall; the next time I peeked it was last night's double decker Spice sandwich with another Spice finch clinging to the wall....

Clearly, they can't wait to get out of the hospital cage dungeon and into the Finsterium with all the nice nest boxes. Who knows, maybe — after a few nights of thinking the external bird bath is the best place to sleep — they'll think the Plastic Evil Nest Boxes are nice!

Update: After a bit more pushing and shoving, two Spice finches and the choco-colored Society finch ended up on the bird bath — this time, facing into the cage. All the better to poop into the water, I suppose.

Tonight it's a double decker spice sandwich perched on the bath dish: Society finch, Spice finch, Spice finch, Society finch.

Yum!

After a few days of drying out the hospital cage a few times a day, and cleaning out the hospital cage a few times a day, and refilling the water dish, and changing the paper, and inserting the Evil Hand of Scraping Out Sprouting Seeds From All the Splashed Bath Water Everywhere With the Wetness, I decided to remove the white water dish entirely. I engaged in a bit of hovering to try to see if all the birds were willing and able to drink from the external bird bath, but found that the extra time spent watching exacerbated symptoms of what I fear is an allergic reaction to (shudder) birds.

No, wait! Don't worry. I refuse to be allergic to birds. Most of the problem, I'm sure, is that there are nine of them in a tiny space, they are barely able to take proper baths (though you'd hardly know that from all the Wetness Everywhere), and they flap incessantly when the Evil Hand comes in. Let's not worry about it until they're in the Finsterium and can take proper baths, shall we?

As an alternative to hovering, once a day or so I give them a small water dish, just to be sure they can easily get one decent drink a day. But wouldn't you know: despite the fact that it's just over three inches in diameter, and only holds three tablespoons of water, it still makes a fine bath. Still, once a day with the Wetness Everywhere is easier to handle.

The good news is that the new Finsters are much calmer. Apart from the intrusion of the Evil Hand, they don't get too scared when I stand nearby to watch them, or check on their early morning crowing, or see where they sleep at night (last night one Spice finch and the two Societies perched on the edge of the bird bath — it was a Spice sandwich). We're all getting to know each other.

While it certainly isn't the choco-colored Society Finster's fault that he responds so joyously to the rosey-fingered Dawn, or that he's stuck in the room right next to the bedroom, or that my phone had already woken me up at 4:30 am to beg for battery power — but really. This crowing before there's enough light to even pee by is getting a little old.

It isn't a crow in the same way that roosters call out cock a doodle doo first thing in the morning. (For that matter, I think roosters say something a little different in France, for example.) But he sang his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song, and danced his Hunka Hunka Burning Love dance (I know this because I got up to watch since I was a little concerned and surpised to hear bird noises before it was light). And then he did it all again some undetermined amount of time later — I'm not sure how long but long enough for me to pee, go back to bed, and go back to sleep again.

And so I repeat: Enough With The Crowing, because really, being a person who doesn't sleep all that well to begin with, and being mostly unemployed and all, and it being Saturday anyway, I really don't need an alarm clock. Not even a sweet, soft, tiny, cute bird. With a lung capacity 500 times its size.

More things I have learned about the new Finsters:

1: I believe that the choco-colored Society Finster learned his song from the Spice finches. Choco-boy (working on proper names) is easy to pick out, since he sings and dances, and so far I haven't seen a Spice finch dancing. But I'm pretty sure I've seen one singing, and so far I can't tell the two songs apart. I'm not sure how long all the new Finsters were living together in the Amazing Outdoor Aviary, but while you'd think choco-boy could pick from many different songs to learn, the Society/Spice hybrid suggests that these two species get along pretty well. Wink.

2: While the external bird bath serves well as an extra perch, a place to go (briefly) when the Evil Hand of Evil Doing is in the way, and as the occasional bath delivery system, in fact the water dish works much better. One bird will hop in and start splashing around, and all the others will line up, trying to get in at the same time. Of course, only one fits at a time, and after a couple of baths there isn't enough water for the rest. And everything gets wet. And then the Evil Hand of Evil Doing has to reach in to clean out, dry off, refill, etc.

3: I figure after a couple of weeks in the hospital cage, with the crowding, and the intrusion of the Evil Hand, and the grumpy people stumbling by to make sure The Crowing is simply a sign of joy at the (barely visible — have I mentioned barely visible?) Dawn and not a harbinger of doom, the new Finsters will have forgotten the Amazing Outdoor Aviary and be ready to move into the Finsterium. Which is a pretty nice place in its own right.

Although we didn't see it, the evidence is clear: the inside of the external bath dish is all splashed up, and a Spice finch is all over wet.

Where one bird goes, the rest will follow.

Well, maybe.

Things I have learned about the new Finsters so far:

1: The excitement and stress of a new place will not prevent a hen from laying an egg. We found one this morning, just as I was about to put fresh poop paper in. Bruce thought he saw the tea-colored Society finch straining a bit last night. So

2: the tea-colored Society finch is female.

3: The choco-colored Society finch is a male, since he was singing a Hunka Hunka Burning Love song, and dancing a Hunka Hunka Burning Love dance to the tea-colored Society finch. Interestingly, his song is very different from Tea and Earl Grey's songs, which were pretty similar to each other.

4: The excitement and stress of a new place — not to mention the watchful eyes of seven other birds and two humans — will not prevent a happy male from being amorous. Not only did the choco-colored Society finch sing and dance for his girlfriend, they had sex. Twice. Which doesn't take long in the bird world.

5: While not as calm as Society finches, Spice finches are much less flighty than White-Headed Nuns, and much less frenetic than Zebras. Which is a good thing, since there are so many of them. Their normal call noise is a quiet peep — not as high or sharp sounding as Frank's. I don't think I've heard their Hunka Hunka Burning Love song yet, although I have heard what I think is a long and intricate alarm call.

6: Nine may well be too many birds to stay in the hospital cage for long. Not that I'm trying to keep it clean, per se, but so far it's been a little difficult to keep them with fresh water and sufficient seeds. You see,

7: my hand is Evil. Well, that's not a surprise. But there are an awful lot of flutterpations when I try to give them fresh victuals. And there just isn't a practical way to let them all take baths. So we picked up an external bird bath this afternoon.Click here for another, big photo of the birds and bath. So far, of course, the bird bath is Evil. But you never know. At least one bird found its way inside, briefly and most certainly by mistake, when my Evil Hand of Evil Doing was putting fresh seeds in the cage. If that happens a few more times, they might just figure it out.

Today was the day! We drove out to Rochester to visit with Emma, who has raised birds since she was six, and to get some new Finsters. Although she no longer has birds in all the places she used to (garage, basement, living room, sun room...) she still has at least 30 birds in an amazing outdoor aviary, built along the side of the house, which is around 20 feet by 6 feet, and about 10 feet high. Spice finches, Lady Gouldians, several flavors of waxbills, Java Rice finches, a very curious Owl finch, Tri-colored Nuns, Zebras, two Bourke's parakeets, and an enormous white pigeon. I might be forgetting a few!

She had already caught the pair of Societies (one tea-colored and one chocolate-colored) and the Spice/Society hybrid (looks almost like a Spice finch) destined for the Finsterium when we got there. After watching all the birds for awhile, we all started catching the Spice finches. That is, Emma wielded the bird net, and Bruce and I tried our best to herd the birds toward her end of the aviary. Sure, she's had a lot of practice, but she's still very good at catching tiny little birds that fly very fast through the air.

After catching four Spice finches we all took a break. Birds everywhere were panting, beaks open to instill fear in their adversaries (and those weirdos trying to catch them, of all things). We then had a discussion about how many birds we actually wanted. We talked about how many Spice finches Emma had (six), the size of the Finsterium (480 cubic feet), the price of tea in China — but as it turned out, numbers were irrelevant: BRUCE WANTED THEM ALL.

So, that's what we have: six Spice finches, two Societies, and one hybrid. Nine new Finsters. This may well be too many to keep in the "hospital" cage for two weeks, but we'll see how it goes. They aren't very happy right now, but they started snacking and drinking right away, which is a good sign. Click here to see new nervous birds, plus a snacking tea-colored Society finch. Trying its best to blend in with my current, porky Society Finsters.

Stay tuned for new names, better pictures (well, maybe), new bird sounds, and more Finster goodness.

Thanks, Emma.

...but the times they are a-changin.'

I finally (no thanks to Sprint) got hold of the breeder that sold me Tea and Chocolate and Biker Chick and Bambi, and she still has some finches that need a good home. Sweet! Looks like I'll be adding another pair of Society finches (Lonchura striata [domesticated form]), a pair or two of Spice finches (Lonchura punctulata), and a Society/Spice hybrid (Lonchura effrenus necnon rabidus) (apologies to Latin). We'll pick them up on the 15th, and they'll stay in as close as I can get to quarantine for two weeks.

Ideally, you should put new birds in quarantine for at least a month in case they have something contagious, but my apartment is so small it's practically impossible to achieve. This is why I'm particularly pleased I'll be able to get birds from a breeder I know and trust, and who is nearby. Two weeks all cramped in the hospital cage should be long enough to prove if the birds are less than healthy, or fit and ready to join the gang in the Finsterium.

I keep oscillating between excitement (are they nice birds? do they have names yet? will they want to breed? what do Spice finches sound like?), and dread (will all those new birds totally freak out the current Finsters? because don't you know, the current Finsters are the best Finsters in the world). Typical me. Plus, there are the practical logistics to work out. I won't be able to keep the Finsterium door wide open while I change out the poop paper any more — it took a couple of years for the current Finsters to get used to that.

Overall, though, I'm pretty excited.

Apart from about 20 minutes sitting in the light on Wednesday, and another 15 on Thursday, Darjeeling seems fine. If she's been in the light any other times I haven't seen it. And after all, the light is there to give the Finsters a warm pick-me-up if they're not feeling quite right. So I'll stop worrying.

As if.

In other news, Frank has been Inside. The. Plastic. Nest. Box. several times since his miracle. Ah, the power of cheese (crack cocaine) tasty seeds.

It's been about a month since Darjeeling was poked, prodded and stabbed by various vets, who finally decided they didn't really know what was going on, gave her a few medications just in case, and sent her home. At first, she wasn't flying well, her vent area was a mess, and she slept a lot. But over time she got back her flying skills, I (once again) hardly noticed her handicap of a broken back toe, and she cleaned up her vent area, feathers grown back and all.

But today, she's on the floor, for the first time sitting in the heat of the light I put there for her about a month ago, not feeling well.

Well, she had an extra month, right?