No egg. No egg. No egg.

Darjeeling got another shot of calcium and oxytocin while Tea got his terrible diagnosis, but even now, several hours later, there is no egg. So her future will likely be short. But she's back in the Big House, and very happy to be there. And we'll hope her death is an easy one.

At the moment, of course, it's very hard not to feel terribly sad, and pessimistic. It's also disconcerting to have only four Finsters left in the Finsterium. Four older Finsters, I might add. Which is where the pessimism comes in. They will all die...sometime, and at some point, for some amount of time, there will be one left. And you can't have just one - finches are such social creatures. But the deaths have hit me hard, at the moment I can't imagine bringing more little creatures home that will die some day.

The local bird club is having their annual show tomorrow. I'll pick up some cards of Michigan breeders. I'll figure something out. Peanut would miss having his pet Finsters terribly, after all.

Apart from population issues, some inevitable health problems, (and the difficulty of paying bills if you're human), I believe that if you're nice and people love you, you ought to live forever. Especially Finsters.

I've already told Peanut he can never die.