This week, however, My landlord hired guys to trim the trees, and they accidentally spilled gasoline into the well of my bedroom window. I guess they had their gasoline can(for refilling gas powered rakes, shovels and implements of destruction) on the edge of my windows well. They tipped it over dragging cut limbs past it. I found out about this when I walked into my room and the stench of gasoline.
The birds were a little upset but not in serious distress- I went up and let them know about it. They cleaned up as best they could, and I dumped some clay litter down the well to absorb what was left. then I moved my birds into Sams room so mine could air.
Then when Sam got home, she insisted I move in there for a couple of days too. She's been out on the couch. And my back is shot. My bed isn't great, Sams is, but it turns out that if you are used to sleeping on a crappy bed... sleeping on a new one may actually kill you. Or make you feel like you want to be dead. Or at least have that one muscle that handles your lower back on the right side cut out and replaced with a hand crank and titanium cables.
So hopefully, me and the birds will be getting back to normal tonight. Except for Wallace. That's the second part of this.
Wallace doesn't get a lot of play here, on the Blog. He's an elderly Red-Rumped Parakeet, likes his peace, likes to be left alone. The second night in Sams room, he had an incident- a panic attack, a mini-stroke, something-leading to a seizure. He's doing better, but doesn't have great balance. we are just trying to make sure he is as safe and comfortable as possible. A trip out to our vet would likely kill him. He is also in the upper range of his species lifespan, over 20 years. I don't think this was because of the gasoline fumes, I think it was the stress of being in an unfamiliar room, added to the fact that he's just fragile.
|this picture is from several years ago, January 2000|
So Wallace will be next to my desk out here for the foreseeable. I will make sure to bring Tango out for sort visits, because he and Tango are friends(as much as a fragile, elderly bird can be friends with a young maniac-full-of-energy-bird). When I brought Tango out yesterday to see him, they were calling to each other, and it's the first sound Wallace has made since the initial incident.
Side note- I discovered yesterday that Sams Cockatoo, Sid, has a morning activity I don't love. First thing in the morning, as some sort of symbolic protest, he painstakingly kicks every atom of food out of his bowl at whosoever be'eth in range. Me, Cappy, whoever. With nigh supernatural accuracy and range. Back to more fun and toy pix soon.
in the meantime, the inspiration for today's title was provided by the late David Bowie