The winged members of our flock are very accustomed to keeping odd hours with their furry (well, some are more furry than others) flock-mates. Even
By 4:30 I was ready to wake up Sprite and give him a chance to go into his carrier. Like earlier in the week, it only required that I put his breakfast bowl in there and he went in after it. I only needed to give him about 10 minutes to climb his way there from his perch inside his cage. Smoothly I approached him while he was inside it, and stretched an arm to its door. He popped his head up at me briefly, but then stuffed it right back into his stainless steel dish to dig for another peanut. With one sweep I closed the door and latched it. This action got his attention and he spun himself back to where there had been a gaping doorway, but now there stood only a wall. He went into his mumbling vocals and then reached back for a Nutri-berry, much to my relief. Closing the door on him certainly came as a surprise, but it did not interrupt his breakfast. Even as I worked his cage down the stairs and out to the truck, Sprite continued his gnoshing right alongside Lennon who was also staged in the living room and ready to go out the front door.
Wrestling Sprite’s cage nearly had me tapping out only halfway down the descending corridor. The cage is of course awkward, but I would challenge anyone to find a noisier contraption. At 5 a.m., our neighbors were treated to the sound of cartwheeling scaffolding as I slid, heaved, and dragged the lineman sized birdhouse finally out the door.
Lennon was the first of the two birds out to the truck. One more trip into the apartment and Sprite came out, the door was locked, and
Cher was left in charge for the weekend. The transport vehicle was on the highway at 6 a.m. with a full tank of gas, and one hungry driver. My plan was to leave at 5 a.m. to be sure and beat rush hour traffic on the way, so I resolved to deny myself a McDonald’s visit until after I had made it past the potential problem areas almost 2 hours away. Perhaps a stop for some vittles would have fueled my brain enough to realize that it was Saturday.
Bellies full and legs stretched, we rolled back up on the highway and bee-lined it to the left coast. Lennon continued to stare out the back window, as he had all the way, and whistle to the sounds of steel drums, ukuleles, and harmonicas belted forth by Radio Margaritaville. One song even included a chorus of jungle sounds, to which even Sprite got in on a little karaoke. The music made the time fly by….(insert chuckle here), and the birds eventually got their first look at the Bay, and probably the closest that they’ve ever been to a pelican in the process. Pelicans ride the air currents off the epic bridge spans around here populated by four or more lanes of speeding vehicles. They routinely skim traffic as if it were the glassy lip of a breaking wave. As a squadron of them buzzed the passenger side, Sprite let out a growl.
|Sprite's first look at the Bay.|
The birds were then successfully off-loaded in Ms. Flock Advisor’s new shelter. I spent the rest of the day assembling various items and keeping the birds company. They both settled in just fine. They are eating, mimicking, and playing with their toys. As of this writing they still have not seen Ms. Flock Advisor, but she should be home shortly.