By the way...
I forgot about my bird. Rachel made me think of it. He's had two freakouts recently. One was this morning when, around 4:30, he must have been preening himself, hit a sensitive spot on his wing, freaked himself out, and started flying around my room in the dark. Nice, honey. See, last year he gave himself an ouchie by plucking a feather that wasn't quite ready to be plucked; that part of his wing is still sensitive at times. He must be getting another new feather there and was preening that exact spot and decided, hey, I don't like how that feels, bad touch, bad touch!!! Little does he realize he did it to himself.
Then, yesterday morning, I finally pitched my old hula hoop. This makes me sad, but it's broken, so away it goes. Since it's large and pink and therefore scary, Kirby freaked out when I went to take it out of my room. He flew out my door and onto the landing...never realizing that that was exactly where I was going. He then freaked out *again* and thankfully landed on the carpeting in the upstairs hall (he could have fallen down to the first floor), but that was next to where the hula hoop was, so he ended up in my parents' bedroom. Geez, little bird. It's only a hula hoop. And it's going away. Bye-bye, hula hoop.
There is definitely a reason I call him my little chicken.
Then, yesterday morning, I finally pitched my old hula hoop. This makes me sad, but it's broken, so away it goes. Since it's large and pink and therefore scary, Kirby freaked out when I went to take it out of my room. He flew out my door and onto the landing...never realizing that that was exactly where I was going. He then freaked out *again* and thankfully landed on the carpeting in the upstairs hall (he could have fallen down to the first floor), but that was next to where the hula hoop was, so he ended up in my parents' bedroom. Geez, little bird. It's only a hula hoop. And it's going away. Bye-bye, hula hoop.
There is definitely a reason I call him my little chicken.