As Peanut discovered today — the second time he's been on them, ever — Bruce Logs are just a short hop away from the top of his little play gym. This is a good thing, because sometimes sunflower seeds are hidden on top, and he couldn't quite reach them. And now he can!

(And yes, the other side of the little play gym base says "nut.")

His name is Ovaltine. A male Society finch, chocolate mottled, although a little lighter brown than other Society finches I've seen. He's got a ring of plucked feathers around his neck, and you can just about see his ear (hole) on one side. I don't know how old he is, but he's got a lust for females, and life, what with the crowing first thing in the morning, and countless times throughout the day. Oh the crowing, how loud it is.

His name is Ovaltine, after the beverage, which I drank as a kid.

And he just fell out of bed. I blame the vagaries of gravity. And those six other Finsters.

It isn't easy being a new Finster. At least, not yet. Bed time is the hardest, it still takes them a long time, and a lot of flutterpations, to settle down. One night in the past few days a pair of Spice finches slept all exposed, out on a perch, but usually they all sleep in or on boxes. Goober, Darjeeling and Earl Grey in their proper box, the second top box from the right. Frank is either on top of their box (I think he usually ends up here), or on top of the third top box from the right. An immeasurable number of Finsters sleep on top of the box that Frank isn't on; I think these are the two Spice finches that ended up on the perch that one night. And the rest of the new guys sleep on top of the first top box on the right, which is by far the most popular nest box, day or night. For those of you not keeping track, this probably means seven birds are sleeping on top of a four-inch square box that has fake vines hot-glued (and taking up space) around three edges. To be more specific, this means several birds are sleeping on top of birds, on top of a nest box, held back from the vagaries of gravity only by fake vines that get chewed on and less sturdy every day.

Why are all the new Finsters still sleeping on top of nest boxes? you ask. What about the hybrid's adventure in the white plastic nest box, and her and a Spice finch's adventure inside a paper nest box? Weren't those signs of progress? I regret to report that I have not seen a single new Finster inside a nest box since then. Why? you ask. I blame the d*** flashlight.

It's very hard to be a prey animal in a new space. There are any number of things that are potentially dangerous. When in doubt, it's safer to fly away, and never think about venturing near the Evil Thing again For The Rest Of Your Life.

Being the one providing that new space, this puts a lot of responsibility on me. Thus was born The Guilt Of The Flashlight. Because I just had to see who was inside the nest box, they might never be brave enough to go inside again. Sigh. There is also The Guilt Of Walking Into The Kitchen, because if the new Finsters are on the floor eating they invariably fly wildly up to perches and walls when I walk by too quickly. Or sometimes, when I walk by too slowly, or at all. They could starve to death in fear of me. And then, there's The Guilt Of Electricity. Particularly when the Finsterium light goes on or off, but often when any other nearby electric light fixture goes on or off, all the new Finsters get startled and chirp loudly, as if to say "What!? What the hell...!?" Will they ever get used to lights? Will they get heart attacks instead?

Fortunately, they're not entirely terrified of me. Except for the day we put new sprigs of millet into the Magic Purveyor of Tasty Seeds (I opened the door as little as possible, and Bruce stood behind me with a blanket in his outstretched hands) there isn't any more crazy flapping.

And the new Finsters are pretty tolerant of me when I stand near the cage and watch them. Oh, sure, some of them fly away when I make eye contact, and some of them get visibly agitated, probably thinking "What? What? Stop looking at me!" But a couple of them — the Spice finch with the most feather damage, for example — will stay on the perch looking back at me, probably thinking something like "Interesting. You might just be another living creature." The new female Society finch, and to a lesser extent the new male Society, are almost as comfortable as the "original" Finsters, with whom I'm on more of a "Say, aren't you the one that gives me tasty seeds?" footing.

I'm least confident about overcoming The Guilt Of The Flashlight, but who knows? Maybe one day there'll be less guilt in my world, and maybe one day one of the other new males will sing his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song to me, just like Earl Grey does (really).

That couldn't have been Darjeeling and the new male Society Finch sitting on top of a nest box together...could it?

I have lived with Peanut for six years. Although I don't recall the exact date, Bruce made him his own version of Polly Logs shortly after he arrived. It has taken until now for Peanut to venture onto it. Peanut climbed up, hung out, I got the camera and took some pictures, he looked like he wanted to go somewhere so I had him step in my hand, he climbed right back onto the top of his house and up onto the Bruce Logs again! Then he took off, tried to play jumprope with the ladies in the painting, hovered there for a few seconds, and flew off to the Finsterium. It was quite the exciting adventure! Since he's so cute, you can see a close up of Peanut on his logs.

Part of the difficulty in naming birds is telling them apart. The hybrid Spice/Society is easy to spot, and I can pick out the new Society finches from Earl Grey, Darjeeling and Goober. But Spice finches look alike, even males and females, and while those scalloped-edged breast feathers have quite a bit of variation to them, I don't have a good enough eye to tell one from another.

I have two things going for me, but they both may be temporary. Three of the new Finsters came with open leg bands. Bird breeders use these to differentiate between different birds. They're split, so with the use of a special pliers you can slip them onto an adult bird's leg (closed leg bands are slipped over a teeny tiny baby bird's foot, and are used to prove a bird has been bred in a certain country, and not illegally stolen from the wild). The thing about split rings is that they can come off. In fact, Frank and Sally arrived with leg bands, but they disappeared after a few months. Still, for now one Spice finch has a blue band, another has a bright pink band, and the female Society has one on each leg, white and pink.

The other clue to the bird's identities is that the new guys all arrived with various amounts of plucked feathers. Now, plucked feathers are usually a sign of stress, which just goes to show that even the Amazing Outdoor Aviary, where all these birds spent their summer, must have had hidden stresses inside, like pesky breezes, too many places to get lost in, overpriced coffee, and that sort of thing. While there may be permanent feather damage, the feathers might grow back if the birds decide the Finsterium is a nice place — although I must say, some of the new guys are very zealous about preening each other. Only time will tell.

So, along with trying to sort out all their songs, and who is who, I've got a list of name possibilities going. Thérèse refuses to let me call one of them Peppercorn Mélènge, figuring that the Mélènge part would just get it beat up all the time. Along the same lines, Bruce won't let me call the crowing Society male Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, even though I think it really suits him.

Tea-colored Society Finch
Assam
Oolong
English Breakfast
PG Tips
Salada

Chocolate-colored Society Finch
Ovaltine
Ghirardelli
Callebaut
Dutch Cocoa
Lindt

Society/Spice hybrid
Ginger
Hot Toddy
Chai

Spice Finches
Peppercorn
Wasabi
Szechwan Pepper
Vanilla
Cinnamon
Cardamom
Turmeric
Paprika
Cumin
Anise
Allspice
Mustard Seed

One day, when there's less mucous in my head, I will describe The Songs Of The Finches. It will require some time spent at the Finsterium, pen and paper in hand, and close observation. Under ideal circumstances it would take a sophisticated recording system, and sophisticated mixing and clipping software to separate out the different birds. But the closest I get is a 15+ year old radio/cassette player and no desire to buy a 10-pack of blank tapes, and GarageBand. We'll see how far that project gets.

In the meantime, I have some observations:

If I were the sun and had any inclination to be moved to wake (or, you know, move) by the crowing of a bird, the new chocolate-colored Society male would definitely get me going. His song is a glorious, riotous trill; very loud at any time of the day, and in any room of the apartment. Although the melody of his song doesn't sound like Earl Grey's, their song patterns are similar. The full Hunka Hunka Burning Love song, accompanied by the Hunka Hunka Burning Love dance, is in the form of short melody A, short melody B, short melody A, short melody B: ABAB.

Frank's song structure is quite different, being comprised of several different whistles, in the form of ABCD. As I think I've mentioned before, his song reminds me of a bosun's whistle: sweet, clear tones with a little bit of clicking in some of the segments.

I mention Frank's song because the Spice finch songs are similar to Frank's in structure — and, to a certain extent, sound. There are, I believe, four male Spice finches, and each one has a different song. The structure is generally ABCD, or sometimes ABCDE (I'll know better when I spend more time at it), although I think there's one that goes ABAB. There's one male whose song has a lot of trilling to it, like the new male Society, and others whose songs are a series of whistles, like Frank. But somewhere in between the trills and the whistles are things that sound a lot like creaky gates, and one sound that's a bit like a cassette tape getting eaten by a 15+ year old tape player.

Bird's songs can get much more interesting than that. Check out the article "Bird Songs" by Gareth Huw Davies, which is part of Richard Attenborough's "The Life of Birds" series put on by PBS. The web site has a few sound recordings, the recording of the lyre bird is amazing: it can mimic a chainsaw and a monkey, along with about a thousand other things. Peanut loves it! (You'll need Real Audio to listen to this.)

As my head is still filled with mucous I had Bruce confirm it: only 5 Spice-colored Finsters were in the Finsterium. Either two had escaped, or they were hiding inside a nest box. Since the Spices are so dark we had to use a flashlight to confirm it (d*** flashlight) which of course scared them out. But they found it all right! The hybrid and a Spice were inside a nest box.

Frank, Darjeeling, Goober and Earl Grey are still pretty disappointed that their comfortable retirement has been interrupted by so many young and busy Finsters. But I think they'll be okay. Bedtime can still be difficult for Frank, who only ends up on the top of the proper nest box about half the time, but that's the hardest. They're still eating, drinking, bathing, napping, pooping and flying around. Best of all, there's no fighting.

The four "original" Finsters still spend most of their time with each other, but Friday night, Frank spent quite a bit of time on the white concrete perch with the two new Society finches! Here's a photo of him with the male, the female flew away before I could get the camera:

None of the new Finsters think that either of the concrete perches are evil, so the two new Society finches were just hanging out together. Frank, as usual, was picking at all the hardware bits on the perch.

Although the "new" Finsters still haven't figured out that tofu is food, and they seem a little uncertain about pepper seeds, they realized right away that the top of nest boxes are pretty good spots. Interestingly, it took until today for them to go inside one. At 10:44 this morning, the hybrid discovered that the white plastic nest box is The Magic Purveyor of Tasty Seeds. While there probably aren't any actual seeds left, she (I've never seen her sing, so I think she's female) picked at the bare spray, and then sat in the entryway for about 15 minutes.

The Spice finch on top of the box stayed there with her the whole time, occasionally preening the top of her head. Since it was daylight the photo turned out pretty well. You can click here for a close up of the Spice/Society hybrid. She looks almost like a Spice finch except for that silver lower beak.

An hour later, the hybrid spent about ten minutes perched in the entryway of the farthest best box on the right, head in. And unless my head is still too full of mucous to count correctly — which is entirely possible — there's another Spice finch inside. This could be very exciting!

It isn't that the Finsters suddenly started to get along perfectly, or that they woke up one morning and all look alike and sound alike and some of them stopped hanging from the ceiling, or that they all turned into one big boring finch. And it isn't that Peanut suddenly stopped being Master of the Universe and no longer required my constant and undivided attention. No, none of that. It's just that I am a Walking Contagion. It started out with pinkeye in my left eye, then turned into pinkeye in both eyes — because, you know, my right eye was feeling all left out — and then it progressed into strep throat. Which, for those of you who haven't had it in recent memory, means that It Hurts Too Much To Swallow. No joke, I cringe whenever I have to swallow, I would rather spit than swallow, my head is so full of mucous if I tried to shove an ice pick into my ear it wouldn't go, I really need to trim my nails but I'm afraid to get so close to sharp objects and besides I need at least the nail on my index finger to rootle out those hard and crusty boogers from my nose, and I repeat: Do they ever give you morphine for a sore throat? Because It Hurts Too Much To Swallow. Or breathe, for that matter. If you have any suggestions, let me know at FinsterGirlatthefinstersdotcom.

The good news is, I am totally distracted from that alleged bird allergy.

Although October 4, 2004 is known as the day SpaceShipOne reached space a third time (and won the Ansari X prize), as the anniverary of the launch of Sputnik, and as the anniversary of Janis Joplin's death, among other things, it is also the third time Peanut crawled inside his coconut. First time was here, and second here. Now, I realize that all these photographs look, you know, just about alike, but here are three more:

Jen pointed out that currently, this picture of Peanut shows up in the first page of results when you search for "parrotlet" in Google Image Search. Which is pretty cool. The last time I checked Peanut showed up under "parrotlet," but not in the first page of results. As caretaker of Peanut, the Master of the Universe, it's important for me to keep track of these things. So periodically I look at my web logs and recent visitors to see what's up.

Part of the reason this photo is ranking well in Google is because for awhile "rocin" was using it as an avatar on the "No Holds Barred" forum. This seems to be a fairly typical forum about fairly typical and boring things, but apparently it gets more traffic than my site does. So, thanks, "rocin," for hotlinking the photo for awhile and boosting Peanut in Google land!

The photo of Peanut on a bookshelf also shows up on "tikru's" Murr... Blogspot blog. This is in a language I don't recognize, but the blog entry called "kotona" appears to be a collection of photographs of creatures on bookshelves. While Peanut is awfully cute, that baby is pretty funny, too.

This photo of Peanut eating a sunflower seed on Bruce's iBook is popular. It's currently the 106th result on Google Images when you search for "ibook." Not bad, eh, Steve Jobs? Recently it showed up on a French-language forum that serves as an unofficial communty for the group Chick' N Swell. Keeping in mind that I'm using Babel Fish to translate, here's the story: "NaT" started a new game where somebody asks for an image, and whoever finds it gets to ask for another one. "NaT" asked for a rubber duckie, which was found by "Yuuga," who asked for a gray pussy (um, cat), and it went on like that for three pages. "Katrie" found a seal balancing a balloon on its nose, and then asked for a peanut on a computer. "HappyFanie" found Peanut. She (?) says (poorly translated, you'll notice, except for the first sentence which Jen helped out with): "Ok, maybe it's a bird, maybe it's fluorescent green, but it's named peanut! Died of laughing It is cute! (but it is really not the best places to leave small gifts, on the keys of beautiful a ordi! )" In fact, this photo is (currently) the only result if you search for "peanut+ibook" on Google Image Search.

MoNkEy_BoOP used this photo for awhile as a background image on her Xanga Site. I could never figure out why. But since it's such a nice photo of Peanut eating corn, you can click here for a bigger version.


The most interesting use of a Finster photo was on a "Smut Hut::18+" topic from the RaveHalifax forum. The thread has since been purged, but it started out when a forum member posted at least half a dozen very naughty photographs of a young and progressively naked young woman. There were at least half a dozen pages of conversation discussing the quality of the photographs (most people guessed quite a bit of airbrushing had gone on), and the woman's various assets (most people decided they probably wouldn't throw her out of bed). Finally, a fellow who's name I forget posted this lovely picture of Earl Grey and the late Decaffeinated. Along with the photo, he wrote:

so hot.

so hot right now.

So, I joined the forum (how could I resist?) and asked "What's up with the birds?" The answer was:

They have white eyebrows.

Aparently some ppl think white eyebrows are hotter than the girl featured in this thread.

Which, you know, explained everything.

Last night our neighbor came over for some of Biker Billy's Habanero Bananas (the wimpy version with a jalapeño), which although very tasty, did require us to keep the lights on longer than usual, and disturb the Finsters. Although all the birds slept on top of nest boxes (except for Darjeeling, Goober and Earl Grey, who slept inside their usual box), Frank did not sleep on the correct box. And there was a lot of rustling and shuffling, and several games of musical boxes. Which all may have been harder for me than for the Finsters, but I doubt it. So tonight, even though Frank still isn't on top of the correct box, since he's on top of a box, I'm trying to keep out of the kitchen (especially with a d*** flashlight) and just let them be.

Except for the little thud, which I'm guessing was the new male Society finch falling off the perch again, since when I peeked in a few minutes ago he was clutching the back wall of the Finsterium, trying to get onto a box already covered in Finsters.

They hang. From the ceiling. And just dangle there.

Spice finches have very dark brown beaks, dark brown heads, wings, backs and tails, white underbellies, and chests with brown scallops on the edges of the feathers. (I'm sure there are more professional ways of describing this. So sue pay me.) These feathers are very pretty. I collected a few from when all the new birds were in quarantine and scattering feathers, seed hulls, seeds, and poops in a wide and fairly remarkable range throughout the office. You can click here for a bigger version of the photo, although of course the feathers have been smashed against the scanner's glass. The biggest one is about half an inch long.

Today there has hardly been any crazy flapping, although there's still some startled flying. The Spice finches and the hybrid still cling to the ceiling by their toes. There have been three Bath Events already so far. The "original" Finsters are generally much calmer today, and they are much more likely to stand up to the other birds wherever they are.

They have also all gone into the Not So Evil Plastic White Nest Box for Magic Snacks, which unfortunately might be gone by now. I of course put a big chunk of millet spray into the white box before the new birds moved in. But the only way to refill the Magic Purveyor of Tasty Seeds is to open the big door, and there's no way to do that right now without birds crazy flapping everywhere. Unless, of course, Bruce stands behind me, arms outspread, with a white sheet in his hands. We'll have to try that, but not quite yet.

For almost five minutes straight, Darjeeling, Earl Grey and Goober all sat in the entryway of the Not So Evil Plastic White Nest Box looking out at me. They started out inside the box, snacking on millet spray, but ended up watching me while I was watching them. Except for the first momentous time they discovered tasty seeds inside, I've never seen them do this — and certainly not for so long. I assume they were trying to communicate with me. There are several possibilities, all fairly obvious:

1. What the hell have you done to us with all these crazy new birds?
2. Who the hell are all these crazy new birds?
3. What's with all the crazy new birds?
4. No, really, what did we ever do to you?
5. What the f***?
6. Couldn't you at least refill the box with snacks?
7. Oh, and maybe this nest box isn't so bad after all, what with the seeds (did we mention we're out of seeds?), and the opening being big enough for all of us to Defend the Realm at the same time. We'll let you know later what we decide. Maybe after you fill the box back up with snacks. Oh, and after you GET RID OF ALL THE CRAZY NEW BIRDS!

Although the two groups of birds still stick together (that is, apart from each other), and still get startled fairly often, there's much less crazy flapping going on, which is a relief. The Finsterium is big enough, and has enough surfaces, that they can get far enough away from each other to feel safe. The bath dish (there were at least three Bath Events today) and some of the food spots (particularly the dish of soaked seeds) seem to be free zones — as long as they're at least an inch apart, "new" birds and "original" birds can be there at the same time without any crazy flapping. "New" birds and "original" birds can be on the same perch, together, as long as they're a few inches away. Darjeeling, Goober and Earl Grey can stay in their box without fear of disturbance, and Frank — Brave Frank — can hold his ground on top of the box even when a Spice finch clings to the wall behind him.

In fact, once Frank held his ground on top of the box when a Spice finch landed on the box with him. Now, before you go thinking that this is unbelievable — which, mind you, it is — listen to this: Bruce saw Frank sitting on his box, and a Spice finch sitting on his box preening him. That's right: BRUCE SAW A SPICE FINCH PREENING FRANK.

Obviously, this could not have happened. Not to disparage Bruce or his sanity in any way, but really. Until I see this with my own eyes, notarized on paper, and backed up by twenty-seven eight-by-ten color glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was, I cannot possibly be expected to believe this. And it could be forever before I can open the door to take photographs. Still, it sets the mind racing, doesn't it?

The neat thing about suddenly filling the Finsterium with strange birds is that it has forced the "original" Finsters to flock together — and Frank is part of that flock. Forget that he's a different kind of bird, forget that he never goes into a box with the others, forget that he doesn't cuddle with them, side by side. He's still enough of a flock member to eat with them, bathe with them, perch with them, and sleep on top of their nest box. That's pretty sweet.

The new Society finches are less sedentary than Earl Grey, Darjeeling and Goober, which makes sense since they're probably much younger. But the Spice finches are very active. And, like Goober, they're wall clingers. They even cling to the wall when they're napping. Even more fantastic is that several of the Spices and the hybrid cling to the ceiling! They'll fly to one end of the ceiling, dangle from their toes for a bit, drop off and fly to the other end of the ceiling and dangle for a bit, then do it all again. Did I mention this is the ceiling we're talking about here?

In other acrobatic news, the new male society hung from the lower perch by his toes — beak down, dangling. On his way down to snack on corn, presumably. Still.

After a less frenetic, but still wary day, the "new" Finsters were once again totally startled by the lights going off at 8:12. But everyone had settled down by nine, when Bruce peeked into the Finsterium to find the "original" Societies inside their proper box, a pile of "new" Finsters on top of it, and Frank sadly on top of a different box. About half an hour later I peeked in, this time with a flashlight. I had just enough time to see piles of Finsters on top of boxes everywhere when the light (what's with the d*** light?) startled either Earl Grey or Darjeeling out of their box, which startled all the other birds, and filled me with so much guilt I ran away and didn't even think about peeking in again for the rest of the night.