Despite yesterday's encounter with Evil Garlic, Frank is fine. We're all relieved. Spent a few minutes watching and listening to him this morning. I think I've mentioned that Frank's Hunka Hunka Burning Love song has four parts, in the form ABCD. More specifically:

1. quiet series of clicks
2. long, clear note
3. longer, clear note that lilts up
4. long, clear note

It's lovely. And particularly lovely to hear after last night's scare. So far my experiments at recording Finster songs haven't gone so well, but I'll keep trying.

Tonight we were reminded once again that cooking in a small apartment, with birds in a kitchen, is very tricky business. We buy chopped garlic in big jars, and this time we happened to pick up a jar where the garlic is stored in oil, not water. What's the difference, right? But you shouldn't feed garlic to birds, and apparently something about cooking garlic that's been stored in oil makes the harmful parts of it airborne. Or something. If you're a chemist feel free to send me the proper terminology (FinsterGirl @ thefinsters.com).

Frank spent about ten minutes as far away from the stove as he could get, beak open for part of that time, almost perfectly still.

Windows open, door open, fan circulating air, he seems recovered now, but we're still worried. And we'll never cook with garlic stored in oil again. Anybody need a (barely) used jar of garlic?

These are some of my favorite sounds:

• The Finsters cracking tiny seed hulls in their beaks.
• The crash when Peanut tosses the plastic cap out of his nest.
• The Finsters chirping their normal, nearly constant chirps.
• The Finsters singing their Hunka Hunka Burning Love song.
• The Finsters singing their Hunka Hunka Burning Love song when they're inside a nest box. Nice acoustics!
• Peanut squawking, chortling, arnking, or making other noises, particularly when he's eating at the same time!
• The loud call of a blue jay discovering we've put out more peanuts.

These are some of Peanut's favorite sounds:

• Loud music. Oh, he has his preferences. You can see his music list below. You can also see and hear him rocking out in this little movie (assuming my settings and your browser are set correctly).
• My lovely, lovely singing voice.
• Running water, and its subset:
• Peeing. When he's in the bathroom with you, for the added acoustics of a small room lined with tiles. Boys are better than girls since the stream starts higher and therefore is louder. That's all I'll say about that, except to point out that a small bird and a big bowl of water is a bad combination, so be careful if you try this at home.
• The corollary: The first toilet flush in the morning, because then Peanut knows I'm about to come out to greet him.
• Howard Dean's voice.
• Ovaltine's Hunka Hunka Burning Love song — it was so loud one day that Peanut flew right over and hung onto the Finsterium wall just a few inches away to listen.
• Plastic grocery bags getting crumpled. I think it sounds like water. Or something. He yells and yells at them, and occasionally gets up enough nerve to bite at them, which can make it very hard to put food away.

Peanut's Mix, version 1.0 (2003), in no particular order (except the first one):

• The theme song from the TV show Malcolm in the Middle by They Might Be Giants is Peanut's favorite, probably because Bruce and I sing along to it. If you scroll about halfway down this page you can hear a bit of it. You can also get the ringtone for your phone if you're interested.
• "Addicted to Love" by Robert Palmer, you can hear a clip from The Very Best of Robert Palmer (thanks for the clips, Amazon).
• "African Skies" by Simple Minds, from Real Life.
• "American Pie" by Don McLean, from American Pie.
• "Peter Gunn" (well, who wouldn't love this one?) and "Baby Elephant Walk" by Henry Mancini, hear clips of both from Henry Mancini Greatest Hits.
• "Body and Soul/Dinah" by Benny Goodman, Air Play.
• "Blackbird" by The Beatles, performed by my nephew Sam. Can't find clips of The Beatles' stuff anywhere, I suppose we blame Michael Jackson for that.
• "Cecilia" by Simon and Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water.
• "Don't Turn Out Like Your Mother" by The Proclaimers, from Hit the Highway, although I can't find a clip of it anywhere.
• "Graceful Ghost Rag" by William Bolcom, Bolcom - Piano Rags.
• "I'll Fly Away" by Gillian Welch & Alison Krauss, from Down From the Mountain.
• "Keep Young and Beautiful" (of all things!) by Annie Lenox, from Diva.
• "Loch Lomond" by Steve McDonald, from Sons of Somerled.
• "March of the King of Laois" by the Chieftains, from The Wide World Over.
• "Running up that Hill" by Kate Bush, from Hounds of Love.
• "The Girl From Ipanema" from Getz Plays Jobim, although almost any recording of this song would count.
• "Tracks" (or "Titles") by Vangelis, from Chariots of Fire.

Britain has put up a monument in Park Lane, central London, to honor all animals used in war, including horses, dogs, dolphins, elephants, pigeons and even glow worms (used in WWI to help read maps). Now, I have a hard time when people use animals to do their dirty work, particularly when better tools exist. You may recall my rant when US soldiers used pigeons to warn them if the air was bad in Iraq. But the monument's inscription says it pretty well:

Animals In War. This monument is dedicated to all the animals that served and died alongside British and allied forces in wars and campaigns throughout time.

They had no choice.

Here's an article about it: Animal war heroes statue unveiled, BBC News, November 24, 2004.

My file at the vet's office is fairly thick these days, after so many years and so many finches. But specializing in small birds and animals as they do, the folks at the office know how to handle people like me: If the bird has a name, if I'm looking particularly worried, the name is carefully inscribed on a clean sheet of paper. If the bird doesn't have a name, if I'm concerned but not desperate, a new entry is added to the "Miscellaneous Finches" page.

In fact, I haven't had any "miscellaneous" finches for several years now. I had most of them during my Zebra finch population explosion, and when I was still new to birds and they hadn't yet wrapped me around their little toes. But for breeders who have lots of birds, or for people with a bunch of short-lived pets, a "miscellaneous" page makes sense for bookkeeping. Unfortunately, should any of the Spice Finsters need to be taken to the vet tomorrow, they might still end up on that miscellaneous page.

You can see my dilemma. Most of the Spice finches really do look alike. The bird at the start of this entry may have a bit of silver at the base of its beak — but wouldn't you know it's probably only this right side, so you couldn't tell who it was if it were facing the other way. The bird in the first photo below looks like it has some lighter brown at the top of its head — but no. No. No. That's a trick of the light, and a second bird hiding behind it.

When some of the birds aren't hiding behind each other, or turning their heads away from the camera, the two with leg bands are standing on one foot to hide them. For all I know, these photos may all be THE SAME BIRD.

It doesn't help that I can't take very good pictures without opening the Finsterium door, and once I do that all the photos will be of frantic birds, beaks open to instill terror, clutching the back wall in fear. As if that will make it any easier to tell them apart.

But don't worry, most of the time I can tell three — and maybe even four — of the six Spice finches apart. That's not so bad. Is it?

You'd think, after living in a small 800 square foot apartment for about 6 1/2 years, that Peanut would know the place like the back of his foot. But as it turns out, the bedroom is Evil.

Bruce got a new media server, which - obviously - we had to play with for most of the afternoon. First in the living room, then in the bedroom, currently in the living room again. (Seventeen computers, four TV sets - two of those in the bedroom - but that's a different story). During part of the bedroom test, I brought Peanut in; he was sitting on my shoulder. After a minute or two, and for no apparent reason, he took off, flew a loop around the room, crashed into the mirror, and landed on the dresser. Bruce rescued him and he flew onto my head, which, under normal circumstances, is the safest place in the world. But after a few more minutes, and for no apparent reason, Peanut took off again: a loop around the bedroom, and then into the office to land on the swing arm lamp.

Obviously, the bedroom is Evil.

Which might explain why Bruce and especially I don't sleep all that well. The place is filled with nasty, Evil, invisible and probably right-wing creatures that hum pop tunes from the 80s and have the desiccated flesh of baby seals stuck in their teeth. Who could sleep with that?

The bedroom is the room Peanut's been in least often. Which, for a tiny prey animal, would be enough to make him nervous. Makes it tough to change shoes, though, when he's with me.

That could have been Darjeeling and Ovaltine sitting on top of a nest box together — because I saw it again today! And I spent quite a bit of time double checking, too, let me tell you. Truth is, though, that Ovaltine is one popular fellow. Oolong likes him, of course, but so do a couple of the Spice finches, who perch next to him, and preen him from time to time. I've also seen Earl Grey sing his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song, and dance his Hunka Hunka Burning Love dance to Ovaltine — which is a typical male behavior, at least in my experience. Ovaltine sang and danced, and Earl Grey flew over to do the same. "Right back at you, dude!" Or maybe "I can do anything better than you can!" In fact, I've even seen Frank sing his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song in Ovaltine's general direction.

I've mentioned Frank's curiosity about other birds' courtship songs many times, it really cracks me up. He flies over to the singing male, and peers intently at either the singer or the current object of affection. Often Frank repeatedly scoots over, pushing the other birds along the perch, and sometimes right off of it. I've done a bit of reading, and it turns out the listening part is common among munias (Frank is that sort of bird) and some other species. The text describes two or three birds gathering around a singing male, almost beak to beak, as though trying to catch every detail. Or maybe asking "Do you ever score with that one?"

Spice finch in a nest box! Spice finch in a nest box! Spice finch in a nest box! Spice finch in a nest box!

(Okay, for less than a minute that I saw, but still!)

Update (15:26): One of the two least-plucked Spice finches hopped into the nest box, and hopped out again. A minute or two later, he did it again! At least, I'm guessing it was the "he" since it's often the male that finds the nesting site. I'm pretty sure these two fine-feathered Spice Finsters are a male and female, although, since they look almost exactly alike it's a little hard to tell if both of them sing.

I walked near the kitchen and noticed that Oolong was sleeping on top of a nest box all by herself. That didn't seem right, so I walked into the kitchen, quietly and slowly, to see where the other Finsters were sleeping. And thus was born The Guilt Of Looking.

Oolong and about four of the Spice finches, and I'm not sure who else, chirped and squawked and jumped up and flew off in all directions, and I don't dare go near enough to see where they are now, but at least one of the Spice finches is clinging to the wall about an inch above the pile of Finsters on top of the popular nest box, trying to fit into the pile, and to top it all off, I think Oolong is still sleeping all alone.

(You'll notice that Guilt spawns run-on sentences.)

Her name is Ginger. She is a female hybrid between a Society finch and a Spice finch. (Get it? Ginger is good as a spice and as a tea!) She likes to cling to the wall, preening or napping, and she likes to hang from the ceiling. In this mediocre photo, she is defying gravity by perching on top of the plastic vines on a nest box. A lot of the new Finsters do that. It's particularly funny when the new birds sit on top of the plastic vines when some of the original Finsters are sitting on top of the nest box. When the new Finsters first arrived, this was cause for some serious crazy flapping, but now it's become more of a game: the original Finsters sit solidly on the box, the new Finsters loom over them clutching to the vines, all of them patiently wait to see who moves first.

If you look closely at this photo, you'll see that Ginger has a ruffled feather at the top of her head — right were the vertical line of the mesh is. This cowlick has been pretty noticeable for awhile now. In fact, in this photo from about a month ago you can also see something a little ruffled going on at the top of her head. At the time, I assumed the feathers on her head were being flipped up from the nest box. But now I'm thinking she may have had a crested Society in her background. Like canaries, a lot of Society finches are bred to have fancy feathers on the tops of their heads. Here are some photos to see (they'll open a new browser window): a Pearl crested Society finch from Acadian Aviaries, a white canary from the Canary Post, and a wildly crested Stafford Canary from Jan's Crested Canaries.

Crest, cowlick, slightly deformed feather, it's hard to say. I think it suits her.

Her name is Oolong. A female Society finch, chestnut mottled. We thought about calling her Horlicks, since that sorta goes with Ovaltine, but a milk drink really isn't tea, so we stuck with the alliterative Oolong. Here's a fairly decent photo of Oolong and Ovaltine, sitting on the white concrete perch.

Like Ovaltine, Oolong has a ring of plucked feathers around her neck, but she's lost fewer feathers than he has. In fact, Ovaltine is a very popular fellow among the Spice finches, and I think he's lost some of his feathers to their zealous preening.

Still, Oolong and Ovaltine spend most of their time together, and this perch is one of their favorite spots. They sit and snooze, they sit and watch me; they've even had sex here a couple of times.

Every day I measure out two tablespoons of tasty seeds for soaking. I try to do this before I let Peanut out of his house in the morning, or when he is busy (very busy) doing other things like hunting for snacks, hunting for nasty snacks, or biting Bruce — because otherwise he senses the presence of the Awesome Blue Spoon of Seedy Goodness and flies right over TO EAT THOSE TASTY SEEDS ALL OF THEM GIVE ME THOSE TASTY SEEDS NOW THEY ARE MINE. Now, two tablespoons of seeds is far too much for a parrotlet to eat in one sitting, or in one day, for that matter. But since he's the Master of the Universe, and all, I scoop out the tiniest amount I can in the 0.0003 seconds he patiently waits for me, and hold the spoon as he eats every seed and then goes through every empty seed hull two or three times to make sure he hasn't missed anything good.

Have I mentioned my theory that seeds to birds are a little like crack is to humans?

Peanut doesn't usually get in the Awesome Blue Spoon of Seedy Goodness, which — at 1 1/2 inches in diameter, and with a capacity of a single tablespoon — is just about the same size as he is. But he sure loves that Spoon, and has a hard time understanding that the Blue Spoon of Scooping Coffee, and the Blue Spoon of Measuring Loose Tea aren't also filled with awesome goodness, but are, in fact, full of things that would be awesomely bad for him to eat. Considering that he insisted on getting some tasty seeds when I quickly pulled out the spoon today to measure it (no seeds in sight, really), you can imagine that my early mornings can be pretty entertaining. Go ahead, imagine it! It's fun!

While this isn't the first time I've offered an apple to Peanut, this is the first time he has bitten into it so eagerly, and so often. The real question is: Did he eat the apple? or is it just really good for making spitballs?

Although I didn't count the spitballs I picked off my shoulder and arm, I collected quite a few of them (let's not even mention the spitballs that landed on the floor, shall we?). My guess is, apples are a good toy. But you never know, Peanut may just have gotten a molecule of tasty apple goodness inside his little body.

I've mentioned before that birds need toys. Of course, different creatures have different ideas about what can make a good toy. Peanut's favorite toys are paper and cloth, the Finsters' favorites are food and things that might make a nest (sometimes they think they're the same thing), my favorite toys usually have sharp bits (but that's a different story).

More than any other Finster, Frank likes to put things into his beak. Not new food items, so much, but perch hardware, vines on the nest boxes, food dishes, and things like that. Recently -- although not since that crazy day when all the new birds arrived -- Frank started chewing on the opening of a nest box. Click here to see a close up of the entry way, although I must admit either my camera or my Photoshop skills leave a bit to be desired. Still, if you look carefully at the left side of the hole, you should be able to see where Frank's Mighty Beak has, with fierce determination over several months, managed to fray the kraft paper, and even bend it out a bit. Just imagine the damage he could do if given the chance to bite me whenever he got bored!

The plastic vines I hot glue onto the top of the nest boxes have proven to be a favorite of many of the new Finsters, although I think a lot of their interest is in nest building, and not chewing or playing per se. The new birds are also fond of the cloth tied to the perch hardware (placed there to keep Peanut from flying into pointy things), although again, they first seemed attracted to it as potential nesting material, and tried to fly away with it. I took a few photos, these came out the best. Frank is small and blurry, Darjeeling is big and chewing on a string.