They're Still Cute, You Know.
I'd apologize for posting more pictures of the cuteness, but come on, it's not like they'll be around for much longer, and how often do you have the chance to look at hideous baby avians?
Cute. Cute, cute, cute.
That's the big one. He's almost a real bird, as you can see. Fucking adorable. Also, rather uncooperative. And capable of aiming his poop.
This is the little one. Only barely out of the truly ugly stage, and now in the so-ugly-it's-cute stage.
I came into the computer room today, where I have them on top of the scorpion cage out of reach of cats and dog, and heard them chirping. They are still chirping. This means, presumably, that they feel worlds better than they did yesterday, when I could wrangle nary a peep from them, even while stuffing food down their little throats.
They are pooping with a vengeance, and the big one can sort of perch just a wee little bit. He won't be much longer in the nest, I think. They are both quite strong and vigorous . . . just tiny.
Fed them both a few mouthfuls when I got up an hour ago -- don't want to push it. They have the idea. I think they'll make it, provided they go somewhere without cats who desperately want to eat them.
And, yes, Fish is quite desperate. She hid under the chair and jumped into my lap yesterday in a madcap effort to get to the one I was feeding. She got five across the eyes and is now banned from the room while they are out.
I'm feeling all humble and philosophical about the whole thing. I may talk about some of it, later. Sweet babies. Poor little mites.
After Sargon goes for his job interview at two, we are taking them to a wild bird rescue who will be happy to care for them (we have a lot of good animal-loving people in this town, at least). They can be looked after there, and given proper food, and taught their baby-birdy things by people who won't mind the constant chirping (I suspect after a day or so I would get sick of it) and who don't have murderous cats stalking around looking for a way up to the cage.
Yes, Fish. I am talking about you, you tail-waving lunatic.
Cute. Cute, cute, cute.
That's the big one. He's almost a real bird, as you can see. Fucking adorable. Also, rather uncooperative. And capable of aiming his poop.
This is the little one. Only barely out of the truly ugly stage, and now in the so-ugly-it's-cute stage.
I came into the computer room today, where I have them on top of the scorpion cage out of reach of cats and dog, and heard them chirping. They are still chirping. This means, presumably, that they feel worlds better than they did yesterday, when I could wrangle nary a peep from them, even while stuffing food down their little throats.
They are pooping with a vengeance, and the big one can sort of perch just a wee little bit. He won't be much longer in the nest, I think. They are both quite strong and vigorous . . . just tiny.
Fed them both a few mouthfuls when I got up an hour ago -- don't want to push it. They have the idea. I think they'll make it, provided they go somewhere without cats who desperately want to eat them.
And, yes, Fish is quite desperate. She hid under the chair and jumped into my lap yesterday in a madcap effort to get to the one I was feeding. She got five across the eyes and is now banned from the room while they are out.
I'm feeling all humble and philosophical about the whole thing. I may talk about some of it, later. Sweet babies. Poor little mites.
After Sargon goes for his job interview at two, we are taking them to a wild bird rescue who will be happy to care for them (we have a lot of good animal-loving people in this town, at least). They can be looked after there, and given proper food, and taught their baby-birdy things by people who won't mind the constant chirping (I suspect after a day or so I would get sick of it) and who don't have murderous cats stalking around looking for a way up to the cage.
Yes, Fish. I am talking about you, you tail-waving lunatic.