Harley has been easily startled lately. We think there are two things causing this. First, he was definitely bothered by having Oolong in hospice care. In fact, he hardly sits on the perch on the stove anymore, which used to be his favorite spot. Frankly, there aren't that many spots for him to be in this small apartment, so losing one — particularly his favorite — has been trying, to say the least.

Second, it's Spring — although you wouldn't know it by the weather around here — and the University's track teams have started practicing. Ann Arbor is quite flat, and I live on one of the steepest hills in town. So all sorts of people sprint up it for practice, including the track teams, which are housed just a few blocks away. I used to find this very entertaining, silly people in matching clothes running up and down over and over again (especially, I'll be honest, when they run around in those tiny shorts). But Harley hates it, so now I do too. Too much activity out his window. Very nervous-making.

I don't know exactly what got him going the other day, but he got startled off his cage and went flying toward the kitchen. Unfortunately, I wasn't there, arm held out, to provide a landing pad — and he's smart enough to know that the perch on the stove (assuming he wanted to be on that in the first place) won't hold his weight for a landing. So he made a sharp left turn, and flew UP about four feet to land on the bracket holding the blinds.

Awesome! Except he didn't want to get down for a few minutes. So I took a mediocre photograph while he looked around for awhile. (Try to ignore those cobwebs up there, will you? I've gotten pretty good at it. I'd be happy to give you lessons, if you're interested. Besides, think of how flutterpated the Finsters would get if I did something about them!)

We've got an appointment with the bird stylist on Monday: wing feathers and toenails. Meanwhile, it looks like a move to a bigger place, with less activity out the windows, is in our future.

By the way, thanks to everyone for your kind words about Oolong. It's been a little tough realizing that her last few days were so hard for Harley. Who knew such a tiny, soft thing could be so scary? But I guess death is death, after all.

Bruce successfully popped Oolong into a nest box last night, we coordinated lights well, and Cinnamon and Ginger joined her quickly. There was a little rustling, but all the birds stayed in the box for the night.

Oolong didn't come out this morning.

We're still looking for her on the floor of the Finsterium, and the cage looks much darker without the heat light on. I suppose we'll forget those (relatively) new rituals soon enough. I'll miss having her, even as a Floor Bird.

R.I.P. Oolong, ? — 3/20/08.

Bambi was a Zebra finch from my second group of purchased Finsters. I should tell her whole story one day, because it's a good story, and she was a Good Bird. But lately I've been thinking of bed time, near the end of her life. Because of several physical problems, due to both bad genes and unfortunate events (including an increased aversion to bathing near the end of her life), she became unable to fly from the floor of the Finsterium up to the nest boxes. By this point, she was such a mess that the other Zebra finches didn't recognize her as a bird, so she was sleeping with the Society finches (just one of the many reasons I love Societies). When it came time to settle down to bed, we would catch her up, place her gently on the designated nest box, wait for all the Societies to pile on top of her, and turn the lights out so they'd settle in to sleep. That sweet ritual lasted for a few months, before she finally died.

Since I turned on the heat light for Oolong back on March 5, she has become a Floor Bird during the day, snacking and napping in the light on the ground of the Finsterium. These past few days, she's needed help flying up to the nest boxes. An extra perch or two added, but we're basically just catching her up (oh! so easy) and popping her head first into a nest box. Cinnamon and Ginger aren't quite as welcoming as the Societies were with Bambi, so it's been a little tricky coordinating bed time. They aren't always quick to join her in the nest box, but if they don't join her quickly, she'll leave the box, hop out onto a perch, and — just as often as not — lose her balance and thud to the floor. It's taken a few nights for us to coordinate ourselves, and turn the lights out quickly (and early).

Oolong, Still Alive! But looking a bit more ragged than this photo, which I took with the door open, a few days ago. She'd just eaten, and still has squeezins on her beak.

It's very hard to have a bird in hospice care, and a little distracting. Harley doesn't like it much, either. At first I thought the electrical cord to the heat light was scaring him, but it's pretty clear that he knows Oolong isn't well, and has stopped spending time on the perch in the kitchen, so close to a sick bird.

Well, it's not like the stove is a safe place for him to be.

...but I might just sleep on the couch tonight. Who knew such a little guy could be so darned destructive?

Remember the platform (picture pops) I made so Finsters could sit closer to the warmth of a light bulb? Well, despite the extra six inches of snow we got last night (siiiiiigh), it's actually been sunny today. So when I caught Oolong following the sunlight around on the floor of the Finsterium, I set up the light for her. By afternoon, when the sunlight disappeared, she'd found it. Here's a mediocre photo of her, resting with a snack in her beak:

You can't tell in this photo, but it looks like she might have hurt her leg more than I originally thought when she briefly got her toenails stuck in the mesh of the cage the other day. Hm, I guess I didn't write about that, did I? Truthfully, it's happened to her a few times, so I guess I didn't think much of it on the day. Unfortunately, she seems to be having a hard time of it.

It's possible that Bosco died of the added stress of a broken leg, although — like Oolong — we'd already decided she was old and fat. Where "old and fat" is a general description of a Society finch in its old, old age: prone to napping and eating a lot, nearing death. It's not the first time we've worried about Oolong lately. And as always, while I am happy to see her take advantage of the warmth of the light bulb, I am sorry to see her do it.

Harley has been Absolutely Fascinated by the new element in his realm: the extension cord that — due to an unfortunate confluence of small spaces and sub-standard electrical wiring — is currently snaking from behind the toaster oven, over the stove, and to the light fixture currently warming Oolong. I use the word "snaking" quite deliberately, because I'm pretty sure that's what Harley thinks it is. He is usually pretty good at accepting new things in his environment, but this thing is clearly Wrong.

Don't worry, I'll tuck it out of his sight, behind the stove, once he's ready to move from his perch. Because behind the stove is a much better place to drape an electrical cord than on top of one — right?

Meanwhile, when Harley ran across the bed last night to bite Bruce's toes, we realized he isn't limping as much. Good news.

Mr. Peanut Finster Cohen got something from the Red Cross today. I'm thinking it's a request for a blood donation.

Heh.