It isn't easy being a new Finster. At least, not yet. Bed time is the hardest, it still takes them a long time, and a lot of flutterpations, to settle down. One night in the past few days a pair of Spice finches slept all exposed, out on a perch, but usually they all sleep in or on boxes. Goober, Darjeeling and Earl Grey in their proper box, the second top box from the right. Frank is either on top of their box (I think he usually ends up here), or on top of the third top box from the right. An immeasurable number of Finsters sleep on top of the box that Frank isn't on; I think these are the two Spice finches that ended up on the perch that one night. And the rest of the new guys sleep on top of the first top box on the right, which is by far the most popular nest box, day or night. For those of you not keeping track, this probably means seven birds are sleeping on top of a four-inch square box that has fake vines hot-glued (and taking up space) around three edges. To be more specific, this means several birds are sleeping on top of birds, on top of a nest box, held back from the vagaries of gravity only by fake vines that get chewed on and less sturdy every day.

Why are all the new Finsters still sleeping on top of nest boxes? you ask. What about the hybrid's adventure in the white plastic nest box, and her and a Spice finch's adventure inside a paper nest box? Weren't those signs of progress? I regret to report that I have not seen a single new Finster inside a nest box since then. Why? you ask. I blame the d*** flashlight.

It's very hard to be a prey animal in a new space. There are any number of things that are potentially dangerous. When in doubt, it's safer to fly away, and never think about venturing near the Evil Thing again For The Rest Of Your Life.

Being the one providing that new space, this puts a lot of responsibility on me. Thus was born The Guilt Of The Flashlight. Because I just had to see who was inside the nest box, they might never be brave enough to go inside again. Sigh. There is also The Guilt Of Walking Into The Kitchen, because if the new Finsters are on the floor eating they invariably fly wildly up to perches and walls when I walk by too quickly. Or sometimes, when I walk by too slowly, or at all. They could starve to death in fear of me. And then, there's The Guilt Of Electricity. Particularly when the Finsterium light goes on or off, but often when any other nearby electric light fixture goes on or off, all the new Finsters get startled and chirp loudly, as if to say "What!? What the hell...!?" Will they ever get used to lights? Will they get heart attacks instead?

Fortunately, they're not entirely terrified of me. Except for the day we put new sprigs of millet into the Magic Purveyor of Tasty Seeds (I opened the door as little as possible, and Bruce stood behind me with a blanket in his outstretched hands) there isn't any more crazy flapping.

And the new Finsters are pretty tolerant of me when I stand near the cage and watch them. Oh, sure, some of them fly away when I make eye contact, and some of them get visibly agitated, probably thinking "What? What? Stop looking at me!" But a couple of them — the Spice finch with the most feather damage, for example — will stay on the perch looking back at me, probably thinking something like "Interesting. You might just be another living creature." The new female Society finch, and to a lesser extent the new male Society, are almost as comfortable as the "original" Finsters, with whom I'm on more of a "Say, aren't you the one that gives me tasty seeds?" footing.

I'm least confident about overcoming The Guilt Of The Flashlight, but who knows? Maybe one day there'll be less guilt in my world, and maybe one day one of the other new males will sing his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song to me, just like Earl Grey does (really).