Although I wouldn't say Frank is my favorite Finster — I LOVE THEM ALL — he does seem to be my bellwether in the Finsterium. He is delicate, he is curious, he's a singleton, and he is old. I asked "What About Frank?" about a year ago, because Sally had died about a month earlier. Now my worry is how he's adjusting to all those crazy new Finsters.

Three months since move in day, things are going pretty well. He sits on the white concrete perch with Ovaltine (here's a picture), he sits on the peach concrete perch, he checks out the cuttlefish bone, he sits on top of several nest boxes and tries to rearrange the plastic vines, he sleeps on top of the nest box that Earl Grey and Goober sleep in (which is new since Sally's death). Overall, he's more active than he was before the new Finsters arrived. He eats, he bathes, he flies, he naps, he poops, he eats nice shells, he follows Earl Grey when he sings his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song and dances his Hunka Hunka Burning Love dance, he looks at me. And he sings his beautiful song.

But he doesn't seem to sing as often as before. Maybe there are just so many songs to listen to now, that I don't hear his as much, but I think he really is singing a bit less. He's not the first bird singing in the morning anymore, either. That, of course, is The Guilt Of Electricity. The first light goes on, two or three or four new Finsters chirp loudly in response, another two or three or four new Finsters chirp loudly in response to them, and then Ovaltine starts in with the crowing.

Well, maybe I'd sing less if I got a bunch of young, new roommates, always in my way, touching my food, and waking me up in the morning.

First, I realize the bird in this picture isn't Ovaltine. It's Peanut, looking very handsome, trying to Mind Control me into letting him eat all the sunflower seeds in this pretty dish. I won! You can click here to see a big version. Since Peanut is so photogenic, and apparently I can't take a decent picture of the Finsters to save my life, we'll be seeing a lot of the Master of the Universe for awhile.

Meanwhile, the Finsters are alive and well, eating, sleeping, singing, pooping and napping as usual. Today the Finsters got a spoonful of scrambled egg. Ovaltine flew over toward me, and kept following the dish as I moved to put it in the cage. Once the dish was inside, he was all over it. He didn't squeak and chirp like he did the first time I gave the new Finsters egg, but he did fall over a couple of times in his zeal to get to the yummy, yellow goodness. Well, he isn't the most coordinated of birds.

If you squint your eyes and turn your head a little, you'll see that these two photos are Ginger, hanging from or near the ceiling. Really.

Remember when Peanut first started climbing down my arm to go places? Back in October 2002 it was still pretty new. The first time he climbed down to my hands to get a drink of water from the sink was June 2003; a month later I got a picture. Now, though, he climbs all over me. Sometimes because he wants a drink of water from the faucet. Sometimes because I have my arms akimbo, putting groceries or dishes away, so he climbs to my hand to get closer to the paper bags (to make spit balls), plastic bags (to yell), cups (to see if there's anything to drink), cabinets (to see what's inside), etc.

But sometimes, he climbs down my arm, just because it's there. Although, it seems the back of my hand is a good place to preen. You can click here for a close up.

One of my favorites, though, is when I'm leaning over to grab things out of a grocery bag, and he flies over to land on my back. He's so helpful! Food shopping is so much fun!

Today was the third time I gave the birds quinoa and sweet potato, the second two times thawed out from the frozen mix. If you'll recall, a few of the Finsters liked it the first time, when it was fresh. It also seemed popular on the second day, after being frozen for a few days: Earl Grey, Oolong, Goober and Szechwan (Pepper) tried it out a few times. But today, after being frozen for a few more days, it went untouched. I tried it all three times, and couldn't tell the difference. But what do I know? I'm not a Finster. I'll go back to giving them plain quinoa, which is high in protein, and let them ignore the occasional mound of sweet potato mush.

Peanut, on the other hand, still loves it! I am pretty sure if I gave him a heaping tablespoon of the stuff he would stand on my hand all day picking through the sweet potato bits to get to the tiny grains of quinoa, flicking chunks of glop all over and carefully wiping his beak off on my arm and in my hair when he was done. As it is, half a teaspoon wreaks enough havoc for me. Whoever moves into this apartment when I leave is going to find all sorts of dried, nasty things hiding in the oddest places. I apologize now.

You hate "hat head," you say?

Just try adding "small bird divot" to the hair mix.

His name is Cinnamon. He's a male Spice finch, very beautifully feathered. I don't have a picture of him since, frankly, I couldn't pick him out of a crowd if my life depended on it. Besides, I don't know about you, but I'm tired of mediocre photos taken through the cage mesh. Since I haven't yet started opening the Finsterium door to take photos of terrified birds clinging to the walls, we'll just stick with another lovely diagram of his song. We're going to get tired of these things too, I'll bet! But not yet, because this one is really fascinating:

The level lines are pretty whisles, and the others are trills. I know what you're thinking: "Didn't she say that Ovaltine's song is a trill?" Well, you're right. I've described Ovaltine's song as a riotous trill (before I'd actually named him), and as a loud crow. I stand by both these descriptions, since a trill is a trill, and crowing fits any loud bird's song heard before the sun actually comes up. So look, here's Ovaltine's song:

Imagine my surprise when I discovered I had two loudly crowing, rioutously trilling birds! It explains why I don't have a problem waking up in the morning.

Now, I've simplified these diagrams, partly because the birds rarely cooperate with me when they know I'm watching, and partly because I'm pretty sure that all the new Finsters sing each other's songs, rearrange their feathers, and put on each other's leg bands when I'm not looking, just to mess with my head. But trust me when I say that although Cinnamon and Ovaltine's songs aren't exactly alike, their trills are — particularly that rising one at the end. Ovaltine often sings just the last two trills of his song in the morning, sometimes adding an extra rising trill at the end. Cinnamon is also fond of that single, rising trill. Ovaltine is louder. No wait, let me rephrase that: OVALTINE IS LOUDER.

These birds must have grown up together, or gone to the same finishing school, or something. And while I wouldn't use the ovaltine beverage for this (a nice, dark chocolate with at least 70% cacao content is best), cinnamon and hot chocolate make a very nice pairing!

Just now, I saw Oolong inside the white plastic nest box! I've seen her perched on the entryway before, looking in, but this is the first time I've seen her inside.

But wait, there's more! After she checked out the white plastic nest box for a few minutes, she flew over to the brown plastic nest box, and went inside! She sat in that one for a few minutes, too!

Neat!

Take approximately equal parts of quinoa, cooked a bit dry, and sweet potato or yam, baked and mashed, and mix them together. Let cool, and present to small birds. Of the Finsters that I saw, Earl Grey, Oolong, Ovaltine and Szechwan (Pepper) liked it — Szechwan (Pepper) snacked on it several times. Peanut also cleaned his spoon off.

Of course, the thing about Peanut is that he's probably mostly just flicking bits all over to get at the quinoa, he's a big fan of grains. But with everything mashed and mixed together, I figure he's bound to get some sweet potato in him. Actually, some of the Finsters are the same way. Sometimes you have to trick them into eating what's good for them.

The next step is to see if the mixture remains as tasty after it's been frozen. Not everything does. For example, zucchini, while quite nice raw and chopped fine, turns into a terrible, slimy mush when frozen, good for a science experiment to discover new textures in slimy mush, and not much else. If the sweet potato thaws well, I'll have another handy thing to pull out of the freezer every few days. If not, I'll have five extra little tubs of mush taking up space in the freezer until I get another 25 pounds of tasty seeds and have to get rid of things to make room. Hey, I might be a lazy slug, but I can clear out a freezer if it's a choice between tasty seeds, tater tots, and tubs of slimy mush.

His name is Szechwan (Pepper) — the "Pepper" is silent. He is a male Spice finch. He likes to hang from the ceiling. He has a pink band on his left leg. He gets nervous when I stand near the Finsterium to watch him; I try to walk away before he flies away from me.

He keeps biting at that pink band. So how will I recognize him if he manages to get it off? Not to fear. He also has quite a bit of feather damage, almost as much as Nutmeg. Both birds are small, or at least they seem that way, and have naked rings around their necks, but while Nutmeg has a bare back, Szechwan (Pepper) is missing a surprising number of feathers on his head. Sort of a receding hairline, except the receding part is at the back of his head. If I'm lucky, he won't chew off that band and grow all his feathers back. Otherwise, I'll try getting the tiniest paintball set available, and do some target practice.

The rust-colored Szechwan pepper is not actually in the pepper family, and is less spicy than black peppercorns, but it is associated with dishes from the Szechwan province of China. Food in that region is much hotter and spicier than the rest of China.

Why "Szechwan (Pepper)"? Partly because I like to say the word(s). ssssse — shwannn!!! But he also has a very interesting song, and deserves a name that matches it in style. Remember when I claimed that the new Finsters make sounds like creaky gates, and a tape player eating up a cassette tape? Well, Szechwan (Pepper) does it all! Here's a picture of the song, which is meant to describe sections of the song, and hint at the tune (meant to, I said, hint, I said):

He starts out with a lovely whistle in the first section, but the second part starts getting a little creaky. Parts three and four steadily sound more and more like a creaky gate, and the fifth part progresses into the sound of a small mechanical appliance taking its dying breath. A cassette tape getting eaten by a 15+ year old tape player is a pretty good description. Now, sometimes the song ends there (and if he catches me staring at him it ends much sooner), but often there's a transition, which consists of a barely-audible whistle, and then he repeats the first two sections again. It's lovely! And impressive!

Despite him being half asleep in the Warm Toasty position, my really loud hiccups set Peanut arnking. Which started me laughing, which got Peanut squeaking, which got me really going. After quite a bit of noise, Peanut and I finally settled down a bit. But I was still hiccupping. That's when Bruce started his Aversion Therapy: every time I hiccupped, he would flick my ear with his fingers. Which set me laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. Got rid of the hiccups, too, although it took a bit of time. Peanut loved it!

Hiccups. They're a good thing.

I'm still having a hard time with Darjeeling's death. Rationally, I know there was nothing a vet could have done that I didn't do. But there's always that little worry, that maybe there was something.... Finster Guilt is the hardest guilt of all.

All four Society finches took a nap on top of the same nest box yesterday afternoon. Very sweet.

The Guilt Of The Flashlight hasn't been as intense lately. That one nicely feathered male continues to hop in a nest box and out again from time to time. Occasionally he stays in there for a minute or two. This morning he was inside one of the boxes, and Ginger — who must be his mate — was sitting on the porch. Another Spice finch flew over and pushed his (?) way onto the porch, but Ginger would have none of it. The new finch ended up dangling upside down from the porch, before finally dropping off onto the ground.

Ginger totally takes naps clinging to the side of the Finsterium. And yesterday she was preening herself while hanging from the ceiling. They're so acrobatic!

A trick of the light recently gave Peanut a new friend. Peanut often takes a drink of water when I put his clean water dish back in his cage. Yes, I hold the dish for him as he takes a drink, thus saving him the 20 inch climb around his cage to get it for himself. One of the many sweet rituals we have. But yesterday he dipped his head toward the dish, stopped, looked at the outside of the dish, started to take a drink again, stopped, looked underneath the dish, tried it again, stopped.... Turns out the sunlight — which we get about five times in Michigan from September to April — turned Peanut's water dish into a reflecting pool. He'd try to take a drink, but there was this bird in the way! It was very funny to watch Peanut try to figure out where that other bird was, but I was afraid he'd never drink from his water dish again. So I offered him a drink from the water dish that sits on top of his house. It's shallower, so there was no reflection.

Earl Grey really likes tofu. Plain, raw, extra firm tofu. Just like me! I don't give it to the Finsters very often, but I did the other day and Earl Grey started chirping like crazy when he saw the dish, hopped right over, and started snacking away. He ate so much he had to take a drink, and then he hopped right back and ate some more. Yummy!

I was hoping the new birds would teach the "original" Finsters to eat new foods, and vice versa. But I haven't noticed much of this. I'm not a foodie myself (you may have noticed from the tofu), so it's a bit of work to keep coming up with new things to try. Lettuce and corn are still the favorites, and there's a long list of things that didn't work. But have I mentioned that Earl Grey also likes lima beans? Go figure!

Her name is Nutmeg. She is a female Spice finch. Although she spends time with the other Spice finches in the Finsterium (to her left in this photo is another Spice finch), and with Oolong and Ovaltine, she also spends a bit of time alone, mostly on this white concrete perch or on the pink concrete perch. She was the first of the Spice finches to seem comfortable when I watched her. There's a patch of silver/white at the base of her beak, on the right side. She has the most feather damage of all my Spice finches, and I think most of this damage will be permanent. You see, she plucks her own back. You can see some of that in this big photo.

Feather plucking is a complex behavior among birds. Parents will pluck their older babies to get them to leave the nest. Birds will pluck their mates for nesting material. Sometimes the birds pluck each other when they fight. There are medical reasons for birds to pluck themselves (lice, disease, bad nutrition), and psychological ones. Sometimes birds start by plucking a feather for physical reasons and then it turns into a bad habit, spreading to feathers everywhere. Sometimes, you know, the birds just go crazy.

I don't think Nutmeg is crazy. I know her breeder, and figure her early life was relatively free of situations that typically cause birds to pluck obsessively. Besides, several of the birds I got this time from the breeder have feather damage — perhaps they all learned the behavior from each other. In Nutmeg's case, there was probably some odd, unexpected event that triggered the first pluck, and then she just kept going. No matter.

Nutmeg is the seed of a yellow fruit about the size of a small peach. The fruit splits in half to reveal the aril, a lacy red covering. The aril is removed and sold as mace, next comes a pit that is dried and opened up to reveal the seed, which is sold as nutmeg. This means that a pile of fruit big enough to make one hundred pounds of nutmeg produces a single pound of mace. When the Dutch controlled the Moluccas (the Spice Islands), one colonial administrator sent orders that the colonists should plant fewer nutmeg trees and more mace trees, since mace was more profitable. In response, all the colonists plucked their own feathers.

Remember that mysterious event that Darjeeling had last summer? It started in late July with a badly messy vent area. We took her to the vet a few times, she got poked and prodded, and she got a couple of shots. But no one ever quite figured out what was going on. After a couple of worrisome weeks she just got better (apart from a mild scare early September).

Well, last night she had another mysterious event. There was more blood this time. Figuring she was on borrowed time anyway, we decided to let her sleep with her mates in the nest box. This morning she was still in the box, breathing heavily. We managed to catch her without any other Finsters getting loose, and — to keep a sad story short — she died before noon.

Seven years is pretty good for a hen who was known for laying eggs. But that doesn't really make her death any easier. Or any less sad.

On a slightly tangential note, my doctor doesn't think my own mysterious illness is an allergy to birds (what a relief), but he does have me off caffeine right now. I'm not convinced it's working — but that's not the point. If you would, drink a nice cup of hot darjeeling tea in Darjeeling's memory for me.

R.I.P. Darjeeling, November 2, 1997 — December 1, 2004.