The other day Bruce and I were talking about Harley's longevity — how he could outlive us both, how intelligent he is, how important it is to keep him occupied. Sure, I'll probably be making him snacks wrapped in tiny squares of paper for the rest of my life, but I'm going to have to find lots of new places to hide them. New toys, new games, and I want to start training him — to do something, anything. As long as it's new.

New foods are useful too, although I still think it would be nice to convince him to eat all the familiar, healthy, organic, and so-far-untouched foods I present to him every day. Still, when Bruce offered Harley a bit of pie crust the other night I didn't complain too much, even though pie crust rates as "bad" on the list of things you can give a bird as a snack. But oh! you should have seen Harley's excitement! He ate a bite, his eyes pinned, he climbed down from his perch to get to the piece that had fallen, he ate some of that, his eyes pinned, and I quietly took the rest away, leaving him pinning over a leftover crumb or two. Pretty funny, but no pics.

Sometimes Harley gets into moods where he turns into a Klingon: he doesn't want to do anything specific, he doesn't want to be anywhere, but he wants to be with one of his people. This can be awkward when you're trying to do, you know, just about anything. He isn't a shoulder bird (which is fine, since a big bird on a shoulder leaves the human face pretty vulnerable to bites), so you're stuck with a bird on one hand. Sometimes you can scrape him off onto a perch; sometimes you can lure him off with a snack, but sometimes you're stuck. Occasionally, I'll dump him onto the floor — Harley isn't a floor bird any more than he's a shoulder bird. So he wanders around a bit, gets occupied with his new surroundings, and a minute or two later I can pick him up without fear of Never Being Able To Get Him Off Me Again. But Bruce made the mistake of trying this trick in the bathroom, with bare feet.

What is it about Birds Who Love Toes? And I don't mean "love" like he'll sing to them every morning, and regurgitate tasty bird barf, or anything sweet like that. I mean "love" with the unwavering need to run after them, bite nuzzle them with his beak, and test their squishy chewiness: chasing, screeching, flapping and lurching with glee. Since the two of them were in the bathroom when Bruce tried the floor experiment, he didn't have a whole lot of room to run away, and ended up hopping back and forth from foot to foot. Again, no pics. Too bad.

The last picture you'll never see is of Harley sleeping: it's too dark. Harley sleeps on a cotton "Comfy Perch." You can pop up a picture here. These come in several widths and lengths. Although they're generally packaged in this horseshoe shape, they actually can be bent into various configurations. However, we left a short one of these in a horseshoe for his cage, and Harley sits on it quite often; including when he sleeps. He sits in the curve of the perch, tail waaaaaay up, head waaaaaay down, and — miraculously — sleeps. It's the craziest thing, it really looks like he'll fall off.

Some time ago now (three weeks or so!), Wildbird228 e-mailed me and asked for more pictures and stories about the finches. As you can see, I haven't followed through with this request — although I have thought about it. I think there are a few things going on. I'll tackle the hardest first.

When I brought Harley into my life, I thought long and hard about introducing any additional birds to the family. Since birds are very good at hiding illness, and since they are prone to diseases that are quite serious, it's important to quarantine them when you first get them, and have them tested for disease. Difficulties of quarantine aside, those tests require drawing blood, and finches are too small for that. Particularly since Harley's potential life span is so long, I decided that it wouldn't be fair to him to try to add any tiny birds to the family: so, no more finches. That's too bad. Finches are very busy, noisy creatures, with personalities all their own. I'll miss having them around (and I think Harley will too), and I'm pretty sure part of the reason I haven't been writing about them lately is because thinking about them makes me a little sad. These will be the last, after all.

Another reason I haven't written about the finches much is because I've gotten into the habit of illustrating almost all blog entries with photos (even if they're bad ones, like the one on the right). Part of that is laziness, since you can combine just a few words with a photo and call it done. But partly, it's nice to have pictures. Dirty perches aside (and yes, two tiny little birds still get a surprising amount of poop on the perches), unless Bruce is standing behind me with arms outstretched holding a sheet, it is impossible to open the big door of the Finsterium safely in the new house.

Have I mentioned how bird-UNfriendly this new place is? I mean, what were we thinking?!? Eighteen-foot-high vaulted ceiling in the living room, with a ceiling fan, all painted white — crazy! Assuming a Finster didn't crash into the fan and break its little neck, that's a perfect place for a tiny bird to hide from humans FOREVER. You know, until it starved to death because it was too scared to find its way home.

Actually, we considered adding doors so we could close off the bird room, or getting hospital-style curtains so we could at least surround the Finsterium. And until we learned which switch ran the ceiling fan, we seriously considered taping it in the "off" position. But since we're down to just two finches, with no plan to get more, we've held off on doing any construction.

And we're waiting, gloomy, to see how long the Finsters will last. Long enough to have to do a big cage cleaning? Let's hope so! But of course it'd be easier if they didn't.

Siiiiiiiiiigh.

Well, enough of this sadness. Wildbird228, you're right: most of this blog is about parrots. But just browse around the archives and you'll find plenty about the Finsters; or, you could look at some of the earlier "Favorites" link in the sidebar (wow, I haven't updated that in awhile!); or, you could search for "Finster." Those will all point you to some good stories.

I took a chance when you wrote, and got these pictures — without losing any birds out the door! Here is a slightly blurry picture of both Cinnamon (on the porch of the nest box) and Ginger mid-preen:

And here's a picture of Ginger, showing off her feather damage while she looks at the dirty perch her toes:

Apart from the feather damage, they're both doing well. Ginger is on a nest-building kick; if I don't keep her supplied with hay, she'll start tearing the plastic leaves off the nest boxes. Cinnamon still likes to be King of the Seed Tower. They're good little friends.

Lately we've been experimenting with a new discovery, Pama pomegranate liqueur.

Wait. Do not click on that link. Let me repeat. DO NOT CLICK on the link to the Pama company's web site — it does everything I hate: it uses Flash for No Good Reason, it requires an unreasonable window size, it PLAYS MUSIC!, and a few other things that raise my blood pressure. So don't click on the web site. But, I recommend the product highly. Rich flavor, actually pomegranate, not too sweet, tasty in almost every combination we've tried.

Including a pomegranate margarita, with our favorite tequila, 30 30.

DO NOT click on that link either. For the same reasons. Siiiiiiiigh.

Anyway, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm talking about alcohol on this blog, since I'm very good about keeping the subject matter focused on birds. Don't worry.

Here's the thing: We finished that bottle of tequila today, which had been stored in the freezer. Do you realize what this means?!?!?! Yes, that's right! Now I can fit more pomegranate arils in the freezer! You know: for Harley's breakfast, lunch and dinner!

Organic pomegranates have finally arrived at the market, so I've been processing a bunch of them to freeze. Harley was on his faucet in the kitchen the other day while I was doing this, saw me, and said "Oh! Look at that!" Of course he turned into Mr. Quality Control and had to sample a bunch of the arils. He's so helpful!

His use of the phrase "look at that" in context makes me think that the last time he said it there must have been a bunch of Underpants Gnomes wandering around the bird room, and I just didn't see them.

I've heard that pomegranates will last several months if you wrap the whole fruit individually in a paper towel, then (several) in a plastic bag in the produce drawer of the refrigerator. But since I only have one bird that eats them, I've gotten into the habit of breaking out the arils and freezing them.

In order to avoid cutting through too many of the arils, I score the rind of the fruit carefully — but the rind on the bottom of the fruit is pretty thick, so you can cut deeper. Then, gently rip the fruit into pieces to reveal the arils, and nudge them out. It's easy to squash the arils, and fling them across the room, so it's probably best to do this over a bowl. Once they're all out, fill the bowl with water to rinse off the sticky mess — any bits of rind and white membrane should float to the top, making it easier to save the seeds. Drain in a strainer, roll them around on a towel to dry, and then freeze. The nice thing is you don't have to freeze the arils in a single layer, just dump them all into a freezer container and they're ready to take out, a spoonful at a time, to thaw for Harley's breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I finished the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers yesterday, so clearly, this photo is a couple of days old. But I figure, you can never have too many pictures of birds in your plate:

The small green plate in the background is Harley's (see all the life-sustaining peas?), but it wasn't nearly as interesting as mine.

Mary from Parrot Musings thought it was cute that Harley had squeezin's all stuck to his beak at Thanksgiving. I said, "Boy, do I have a picture for you!" And I do.

It amazes me that people never believe I have Mad Skillz when it comes to the internets. Sure, I never made millions, but I really was one of the first 100 webmasters on the internets. So if I tell you "be careful, or I'll put a picture of that on the internets" you should believe me. Really.

I warned Harley, but here he is, sitting on the edge of the dog bowl, on his breakfast bar, ignoring me. With the biggest almond sliver stuck to his beak. The BIGGEST. EVER.

I mean, yeah, it's kind of cute, right? But no way will it get him any girls.

Extreme close-up:

Yeah. What was he thinking?

Although last year we were fairly new to having Harley investigate our dinner plates, these days it's quite normal to have a bird explore what we're eating. This is not altogether a good practice, but it encourages flock behavior, and Harley is truly more likely to try new foods if they're on our plates than on his own. In fact, this behavior has gotten so familiar that now he's even eating off our guests' plates. I think it helps that Harley is a 10-ounce bird. If a 90-pound drooling dog did the same thing, I don't think it would be quite so adorable:

This years' menu was very similar to last years', although we left out the salad and succotash, and substituted my brother-in-law’s famous bourbon sweet potato puree for sweet potatoes and cranberries. Harley's favorite this year was the pecans from the brussels sprouts. Our guest thinks he probably ate some of her sprouts, as well, although I'm not convinced.

After his foray onto D's plate, Harley sat on his chair, tucked his foot up, and dozed a little.

But he perked up when it was time to put the food away — that's when he discovered the almonds in the green beans.

Well, maybe we do spoil him, just a little. He's worth it, though.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Harley was in the mood for a bath today, so he set about taking one in his water dish.

I've described these water-dish-baths before. The thing to remember is that the dish is TOO SMALL for a proper bath. Here he is, spreading his wings anyway:

These photos are a few months old, but give a pretty good idea of all the water that gets splashed around. If I'm home, and not watching, he'll splatter water everywhere until the dish is about half empty. Then he'll climb to his cholla perch and use his latest go-to phrase: "you ready?" Usually, this means he either wants to go somewhere, or he's ready for snacks. In this case, it means he's ready for me to fill up his water dish, so he can take more bath.

We did that about four times today. He's such a clean, handsome bird!

Lately, Harley has been mostly subsisting on peas (lots of peas), pomegranate arils, apple, toast, and snacks. Yeah, let's not mention all the other foods I try to get him to eat. But one thing I do is make him work for his snacks. I wrap everything in tiny squares of paper, like a Christmas cracker (without the bang, of course), and I can "hide" these in lots of places. Harley will work pretty hard for a snack.

I usually only make enough for a day or two, and am more likely — considering there are three different kinds of snacks — to make them as I need them. The only exception has been the few times I've gone out of town. But this morning, while I was waiting for the Cable Guy to show up, I made a whole butt-load of snacks.

Click for an even bigger photo (picture pops).

The paper is another item recycled from the numerous official updates that pilots have to keep with them when they go flying. I cut the thin paper into rectangles about 2 1/4" by 2 1/2". Then, for one kind of snack, I cut nuts into tiny pieces, wrap a rectangle of paper around each piece, and twist the ends around it. Harley's favorites are almonds (cut into 2-3 pieces, depending on the size), cashews (usually 6 pieces) and pistachios (2 pieces). I also wrap up bits of walnut, but Harley doesn't really like them. (Sometimes I'll simply "hide" a pistachio-in-the shell somewhere, too.)

While waiting for the Cable Guy, I cut up a bunch of nuts and wrapped them into 75 cracker snacks.

For the other two kinds of snacks, I wrap the paper around a Bic Round Stic pen, twist the end, fill partway with snacks, and twist the other end closed.

While waiting for the Cable Guy, I made 5 crackers with Harrison's Adult Fine pellets (sometimes Harley will eat these), 4 crackers with a dry seed mix similar to TOP All-In-One seed mix but with safflower seeds added (Harley mostly eats the safflower seeds), and 60 empty tubes, just waiting to be filled with snacky goodness.

While waiting for the Cable Guy, I made and hid about another 4 additional snacks, took some pictures of snacks, counted all the snacks, vacuumed up some snack debris in the living room, and thawed out some peas and pomegranate arils. You know, for Harley's lunch.

Edited to add Klara's comments.

The other day Klara left me a message, asking for advice on what she can do to keep her very territorial Pacific Parrotlet from being such a terror. Here's part of what she said:

I myself have a three year old male Pacific Parrotlet and he is SO, SO territorial! It's not just a seasonal thing, either, it's year round. He gets 12 hours of sleep every night, but that doesn't seem to help change his behavior.

Was Peanut ever cage territorial? I tried giving my bird one whole room at one point, thinking maybe he was just territorial over small spaces, but then he got territorial over the WHOLE room... just wondering if you have any tips for me and whether there's a way I can get around this. It's not fun to hang around him when he's being all bitey and nippy. And when he bites, he will hang on and not let go... when he finally does, he will grab another part of my hand or toes or whatever, repeat.

In fact, I've gotten too scared of him lately and haven't been handling him much - I just let him out to do his own thing, never really getting into contact with him.

I couldn't really help her, since Peanut was always very gentle. Neither Bruce nor I can even remember more than a handful of times he tried to bite us (once was when I was trying to type on his keyboard when he was using the computer — really, what was I thinking!?!).

But from what I've heard and read about other parrotlets, Peanut's behavior was atypical. Most of these tiny Masters of the Universe are feisty and more than capable of drawing blood. Don't laugh, many owners of big parrots dread bites from small birds — they're tiny but pernicious.

So if any of you readers have first-hand experience in handling tiny territorial tyrants (suggestions, good web sites, etc.), can you please leave a comment for Klara? Thanks!