Fly boys
A couple years back my niece Linda took this picture of my 6 ounce parrot, Sundance. I have posted it each year since as a greeting to you all.
Sundry knows that, if she comes to our house, she will have to confront this caique again, even though she is not crazy about birds anywhere near, say, her childrens’ noses. Nonetheless, she gamely suggested her whole family would come here Saturday for an early Christmas.
What she didn’t know about was this:
This is Significant-Other-In-Law’s rescue bird, inappropriately named Fiesta. It is mean, it is scary. It is huge. Notice the size of its perch (left) compared to Sundance’s perch (right … look down … down … there).
Fiesta thinks all humans are pieces of crap. I imagine he comes by this opinion honestly, having been raised in a foster home for troubled boys. I’m sure he has seen more than his fair share of mean streets. But Jeez. Just enjoy a laugh in our house these days, and the bird is likely to scream at you to SHUT UP. Startle it, and it shreaks in a voice that could send Homeland Security packing.
And see that beak? It can crack open Brazil nuts. Now think what it could do to your pinkie.
We were somewhat concerned about the welfare of my two little grand nephews, my niece, and yes, even mighty JB to defend themselves against this Thunderbird, hurling lightning bolts and causing the earth to tremble and tides to rise.
So we went to their house. It was so much less dangerous. And we all made it through the lovely event alive.
Although if Sis and I give the kids one more toy that plays music or talks like a cartoon rodent, things could change. I’m just saying.