In the thrills a minute life style we have, I thought to record the details of yesterday. The aviary finally being finished meant we could evict the Red Rumps from the patio and finally install Charlie into his rightful position in the big cage.

Being winter of course the patio had been abandoned for some time, and required a clean up before any birds where being taken anywhere. But I was determined. Negotiation being one of the foundations of the marriage meant I ended up looking like a pale version of Blackbeard, after allowing Husband of the century to don an eye patch on a still infected eye that has now evolved into an apple seed sized lump in my eyelid. Now it’s a given I’m normally dizzy as a wet hen at the best of times, but only having one eye with which to get some sort of centre of balance just added to the fun.

Still being the easy going girl that I am I was in the kind of mood that was going to have only one outcome. The patio and birds got fixed even if it killed the lot of us. The basic clean up didn’t take too long, the first happy couple installed into their new home without problems.
It went south after that. The second female, firstly announced her disapproval by flying into her little nesting box and refusing to leave. Which wouldn’t have been such a bad thing but we were attempting to move the nesting box over to her new home. I don’t think she would have appreciated being in there when the drill started up. Next on the pathway to destruction was her mate, who I call Pepe. Because this bird seriously does not think with the brain in his head.

Firstly he came to us from who knows where, and was caught because he would not leave the side of her cage. He escaped a while after that, wouldn’t bugger off, instead hanging around the cage all day until we rustled him into the house where he was caught and reunited with the love of his life. Yesterday once again he proved his skills in escaping, taking off out of the smallest of gaps in the cage door. Only to hang around like a love lorn pea brain that he is.
His mate safely enclosed inside a smaller cage in the aviary with the door open and yep, you guessed it. The feathered version of Romeo did his usual undying declaration of love and flew into the aviary to be with – “her”. Funniest sight of the week was Husband of the century legging it from around the back of the building to slam the door shut.

Next was Charlie, now while I am the first to admit I own a somewhat challenged bird, it is still a well known fact this breed will do it’s best to relieve a human of their finger should it feel the need. Charlie had been witness to the other birds being moved off the patio, and various things being moved around, he is not the type of bird to takes to changes very well. So the removal of his swing from his cage was grounds for him to proceed directly to birdie sulk status. With breaks for giving Husband of the century the evil eye. Believe me, this bird can do a very good evil eye. I have to say the cage was done up a treat for him, nice new natural tree branches for him to destroy, his beloved swing installed for his pleasure, etc. But still the whole moving house without his prior consent did not go down well.

Thank god for humongous fire fighters type of gloves, or I fear that the husband’s hand would have been rather shredded, given the disapproval that was given on his being moved to his new home.

Now as the picture shows, Charlie has a new rather pleasant home. Putting him into his own aviary is not an option. The poor poppet was born with bung wings and flying is not something he will ever be able to do. Unfortunately this does not stop him from nobly launching off what ever perch he may be on, only to nobly beak plant the ground shortly after. In the end he is in the best place he could be, but this didn’t stop him from having a cross country hissy fit for the rest of the afternoon. Normally I can call him and he will do all sorts of tricks in the hope of a slice of apple etc. Yesterday I defiantly got the feeling his world had been totally trashed and I was to blame.

Still with the occasional evil eye at the husband for good measure.

Ah well, he’ll get over it.