A couple of people have asked me how the Finsters are doing, so I thought I'd catch up a bit. Although everyone but Cinnamon is slowly losing feathers on their heads (that is, everyone but Szechwan (Pepper), who hasn't had any feathers on his head for a very long time), they're all doing fine. This picture (sorta) shows Oolong and Ginger, sitting together. Seconds before this photo was taken — and, of course, seconds after — Ginger was trying to pluck feathers out of preening Oolong's head. Ginger would preen, Oolong would grimace and pull back, Ginger would preen again. This is a common activity with all the Finsters, except that Cinnamon is never on the receiving end. Lucky Cinnamon!

Cinnamon, by the way, loves to be King Of The Seed Tower.

Thanks to a regular supply of Timothy hay, the Finsters also spend a lot of time building nests. This entails picking out the longest, most awkward piece of grass from the piles on the floor, flying it up to the nest box, getting it stolen from you a couple of times, and dropping it a couple more times, either because you're a little clumsy, or because you keep trying to fit it in sideways instead of end first. Once the grass is inside the box, it is immediately sucked through the giant black hole in the center of the galaxy, where it joins all the stray socks and pen caps you've been missing. No, really. For all the grass the Finsters bring into their nests, those boxes are EMPTY when we switch the poopy ones out for clean ones.

I fear that Oolong sleeps alone in the box she used to share with Earl Grey, while the three other Finsters sleep together in another nest box. I keep hoping they'll let her in at night, but realistically, I doubt that will happen after all this time. She spends time with the other Finsters during the day, though, so I figure she's pretty well socialized. The other day she sang her Hunka Hunka Burning Love song, and danced a little Hunka Hunka Burning Love dance to go with it. Yes, female Finsters do that sometimes. I remember Chocolate singing and dancing a few times, although I don't think I've ever seen Ginger try it.

Yesterday Cinnamon sang his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song, and danced his Hunka Hunka Burning Love dance, to Ginger. He did it very quietly, I think to keep Szechwan (Pepper) from finding out — but it didn't work. Szechwan (Pepper) heard it, and immediately flew over to break it up! I think all the finches are too old to reproduce, and as a hybrid, Ginger may not have ever been capable. But still, wouldn't it be nice to have new little Finster Peeps?!?

I still have the Fear of Quarantine in me, so I guess I won't be able to get new Finsters until I move, or manage to be really creative about separate air spaces. But four is hardly enough Finsters. They're awfully fun to have around.

On a related note, I went away last weekend, and Bruce says he and Harley spent most of the time sitting around in their underwear, eating cheese, and waiting for Halo 3 to come out. Although apparently there were also a few moments that Harley spent inside the Finsterium, sitting calmly on Bruce's fingers, looking around. Those boys! *

* Don't worry, Bruce promises me he didn't give Harley any cheese at all!

So a few people have pinged me, both publicly and privately, to see what's been up. I haven't written in the blog in — what — a month? I've even had the nerve to ping another blogger, to see why they haven't written in so long. Geeze Louise! Well, I have three reasons.

First, I am a Lazy Slug. What, you didn't know this?

Second, Harley is a Giant Walking Dust Mite. I like to think that I've become a little cleaner, generally, than I used to be, but I wouldn't bet my life on that. I do a pretty good job of keeping the birds clean, though, and then there's all the bird food that I have to obsess about, and then there's all the bird toys I have to order, and then there's all the time I spend talking to Harley, and — well! I'm sure you'll agree I'm pretty busy with this new bird.

Third is probably the biggest. You see, Harley isn't Peanut. I don't remember the early months with Peanut. And probably, when I first got him, I figured Peanut was just a Big, Green, Finster — and in this case, "Finster" specifically means "finch." Something to watch, not a companion. It took an unknown amount of time to realize that Peanut was a creature entirely capable of ruling my life, and it took just a bit longer than that to embrace Peanut as the Master of my Universe. And then, of course, there we were. There we were. What I do remember is that Peanut became a joy in my life, and that I still miss him. And I probably always will.

The experience with Harley is completely different. I know right now that he can be my friend, and that he can be the Master of my Universe. And I know right now that one day he WILL BE the Master of my Universe (even if he continues to be Best Buddies with Bruce, because "best buddies" isn't the point). But he isn't yet. We're still working that out. And occasionally, the fact that he isn't Peanut still becomes a big deal.

We have established different rituals, of course. No Warm Toasties, but lots of scritches, very different games, very different interactions. Oh! And Harley can hurt me (although he hasn't very often). Big, not tiny. Grey, not bright green. Curious, not shy. He has a wide variety of sounds, but he doesn't indulge in the drawn-out, happy, and sometimes indignant chittering that Peanut did. He doesn't fly (not enough space here to let that happen). He doesn't land on my head.

Actually, the most shocking moment was when he climbed onto my shoulder. This hasn't happened often — the bigger the bird, the less you should let them on your shoulder, since that opens up a whole "who's the boss" scenario. Once, at the vet's office, he climbed onto my shoulder because that was the closest spot to the door, and after getting poked and prodded Harley was just about READY to get the heck out of there! And occasionally when I try to give him a bath by spraying him with the mister, he'll climb up my arm to keep from getting wet. Once he actually made it up to my shoulder — and oh! He was so heavy, compared to Peanut.

Not Peanut. No.

Nor should he be. Nor will he ever be.

But hey! He's still a bird. It's good to have a bird around. We play, we talk, we sing, we watch the Finsters. Remember the impromptu play gym I put together for Peanut? It kept him occupied for about three minutes.

This is Harley's. It kept him occupied for about the same amount of time, despite all the things inside. My sister says, "What do you expect, from the bird equivalent of a human 5-year-old?"

I dunno, seven minutes? Look at the snacks! Look at the toys! Looook at the pink pony bead! You can click here for a slightly larger version, with the snacks labeled.

In case you were wondering, Harley gets all the Scritches and Ruffles he wants. Yeah. What was I thinking?