It was Sunday morning and I slept in. Allan
got up to get Max off to work. Because he was up, he was in charge of Fonzie, as well as
Max. It usually works out. About 10 am, I finally crawled out of bed. Somewhere in the
distance, I'd heard some frantic chirping and decided it was time for me to check it out.
So, downstairs, I went.
First thing I saw was Allan, sitting on the
couch, reading the paper, looking a little less than happy. From the family room, there
was that chirping, only it was more like yelling at this point. I gave Allan a questioning
look. "She has been a VERY bad bird," he said. "Hmmm," I replied.
"How long has she been covered?" "A very, very long time," he said.
"Hmmm," I repeated, knowing now, why the yelling had been so insistant.
When I reached the family (actually bird) room, I
saw that the window quilts were still down and there were two towels covering the cage. At
the very bottom of the towels, I saw a little green and gray head struggling to move the
towel away. The chirps became more compelling.
I removed the towels and saw Fonzie pacing back and
forth, exclaiming her outrage at being caged and covered. As I opened the cage door, I
glanced down and saw a big pile of soft grains and veggies in the corner of the mess
catcher at the base of the cage. This clue told me every thing that had happened. The
story went like this.
Allan had Fonzie out. It was time for the morning ritual
of clean water, pellets and soft foods. Allan got as far as the water and pellets before
it all went south, as they say. He chose to put the soft food mix in Fonzie's beloved pink
dish on the top of the cage. I usually put it in the silver coop cup that hooks onto the
inside of the cage.
He got as far as putting the beloved pink dish on the
cage top and couldn't find the washer and wing nut that kept it in place. When he turned
his back to look, Fonzie, who is a true creature of habit, chose to take issue with that
mush in the beloved pink dish. Muttering "pink dish pink dish", she dumped it
out, making Allan kind of unhappy. He scooped the mush up and put it back in the dish,
then put the dish back on top. At this point, Fonzie went into attack mode, hissing and
lunging at the hand that was trying to feed her. We all know that's a no - no. So...
Even though the pink dish went over again, Allan managed
to get Fonz off the top of the cage and inside where he felt she deserved to be. Avoiding
the flashing beak that tried to keep him from putting the locking rod in place, he got her
penned in. At that point, he put the dish back on top, left the mush in the corner
of the mess catcher and exiled little Fonzie under the towels where she remained,
complaining of the injustice of life until I showed up to set her free and the world
right. By evening, all was forgiven, if not forgotten, as Fonzie and Allan communed
in the kitchen sharing a shoulder and some snacks from tomorrow's brown bag lunch as it
was being made.
