I haven’t been up for much this past week besides ringing up poor Mom and moaning on about my terrible head cold. Fortunately, for your sakes, I kept all that away from here. As an aside, however, I have noticed, in the age of sanitizers and airborne preventives, a recent reluctance….a self consciousness, even; when I blow my nose in public. Probably because I don’t carry a hand sanitizer and imagine eyes upon me, imploring me not to touch anything around them.
The last snot rag has not quite hit the floor, but I’m feeling much better and slightly more interesting. Hence, I am present.
Unfortunately, due to a slow week and extended weekend, there’s not much to report, beyond—brace yourselves, dearies—-another birdie update. After a week long quarrantine, I have let the flock of seven loose into the the palace. The big cage. With Miles and Stella. Things have changed, my friends. I knew they wouldn’t be initially pleased with sharing space, but I didn’t expect the changes I’ve seen.
Stella, who previously was content to preside as an imperious, delicate cage decoration, has morphed into an aggressive, fish mongering banshee. She’ll go after any hen who comes within a five centimeter distance of her man, or her swing, which occupies the quiet right hand (or wing, I guess) corner of her domain. And all this time I thought she was ignoring Miles.
Miles at first regarded himself as King Cock, and hopped onto every hen…clumsily, I might add. Until the males came. One specific male seems to threaten him. He keeps mostly to Stella’s side, or guards the nest box, which I suspect will become a point of contention among the entire flock, as there is only one. I spy him periodically auditioning a concubine (yes, I really do regard Miles and Stella as a sort of royalty); a young hen I named Edie, who faintly resembles Stella. Cad. He doesn’t even try to woo her with his two hop song and dance the way he approaches Stella. Nope, he just hops on her. Unsuccessfully.
So that’s what I’m doing, these days. Crocheting a babette blanket while studying avian society dynamics and their bumbling amorous blusterings.
After all this, I can honestly say that I’m glad that I’m not a bird. And probably you would be too, if you had me watching you, no?
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