It happened just as I expected: his lower beak kept chipping away, until I was sure he couldn't eat anymore. Took him to the vet when the tip broke off, and she agreed. Rather than let him starve to death, I got him the shot of poison.

I am shocked, devastated, when one of my Finsters dies. It's the very same emotion as when a person dies, although it doesn't last as long. I suppose lots of people don't understand that. It's just a bird, right? But I say: It's a bird. Exactly. And I say: If you feel nothing when a bird dies, then you're missing something about life. That's what I say.

Some Random Ovaltine Notes:
Best. Name. Ever.

Except at bedtime, when he'd flutter-and-climb his way up to a nest box, Ovaltine spent the last of his time in the Finsterium as a Floor Bird. Goober spent a good part of her day down there with him. Part of that could be the unlimited millet spray surrounding him, but we'll call it companionship.

We set up a light to shine onto the floor of the Finsterium, so Ovaltine would have a warm spot to sit in. But when he kept clinging to the side of the cage so he'd be closer to the light — and NAPPING — we went to the pet store to get a heated rock designed to keep lizards warm. As we'd hoped, it also works for birds. Ovaltine spent a little less time clinging and napping, and a little more time tucked up next to the rock and napping.

Goober spent a good part of her day being Queen Of The Rock. Part of that could be that she simply likes to be Queen Of Things, and part of that could be that she liked to keep her feet warm, but we'll call it companionship.

There is no spot in the Finsterium where a heated rock won't get covered in poop. Part — but not all — of that is Goober's fault. Part of it is just gravity.

I miss Ovaltine and his crowing. He was such a lively bird.

R.I.P. Ovaltine, ? — February 15, 2005.