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.