Tuesday, March 6, 2007

time for a birdies only post

Nothing in my life has changed for the better in any way. So instead of telling you about crying on t-doc's shoulder for an hour, or ripping up my entire left arm with the blades, or being even more of a f%%kwit loser.....let's talk about birds.

First good story is that I caught all my aviary pigeons this morning, and took them through to mynah man who had said he was keen to have them. They include a bunch of hand-raised babies (picture a huge fat pigeon climbing up the side of the aviary while begging...pigeons don't climb. They don't hang on fencing. I am failing these children in terms of educating them...) as well as a few who have come in with wing damage, and who might come right with some R&R. I do stick to the rehab centre rules (except for finchy mentor-girl, and all of us broke the rules for her...just somehow no-one wanted to be the one to sentence her to death), and if something is obviously never going to be releasable, or be viable in the wild, they are euthanased. But because it's my home aviary, and I am only dealing with about 800 birds a year ( as opposed to the centre's 8000 plus), I have the time and the space to give them a longer rehab session. So there were about 6 that might fly properly eventually. Mynah man has a well secured garden, and no predators, so they can potter around his home safely. He called me this afternoon, deliriously happy about the beauty of some of them (FYI feral pigeons are basically escaped racing pigeons mixed with the indigenous species, so they come in some truly gorgeous stripes and bars, and iridescent necks and heads in purple and green and blue mixed with grey are quite common), and I can see that these pigeons ain't never gonna leave there! They will be too fat and lazy to even think of it, while they amble from the seed tray to the bath to the newly built perches.

Finchy mentor-girl came in to meet her new friends, and judging by the way she was disciplining them, they must be quite cheeky boys.

I left two birds at the centre, but came home with another 4 as well as a little snake. Snake disappeared in the car on the way home, and I can't find him. Not good, as he needs special food while he is injured. Also not good as I would rather not find him by sitting or standing on him.

And best of all, the barbet story. Quick summary - he came to me on Fri with a broken femur, saw Girlvet on Sat, and she taped it, but said he needed a pin put in on Mon. So yesterday, I took him through to the practice (2 bird vets, the Boss and a newish but great Girlvet), handed him in for surgery, and did other things for a while. Phoned them before I headed home, receptionist asked Boss, and he said it could be picked up, so I collected him. As I got home, I get a call to say he hadn't been pinned yet, and must be brought back. Turns out Boss had seen Girlvet prepping everything, and had assumed the surgery was done, but she just hadn't had time to do it. So this morning I take him back, see Boss briefly, and leave Barbet there. 30 mins later I get a call from receptionist to say that I have brought the wrong bird. I say 'but I only have one BC barbet at the moment...' and go back to vet to sort it out. Girlvet wasn't there, and for some strange reason, Boss had assumed it needed wing surgery, so he had a quick feel, and could find nothing wrong with either wing. Not surprising, seeing as they were both in perfect nick. Once the leg was mentioned, the break was obvious to him immediately, and BCB had his surgery this afternoon.

I think its going to be a long time before he stops being teased about this one. My rehab bosslady wants to buy him a toy ducky and label the basic bits - wing, leg, head etc - but I can't see that being too appreciated!

And now I guess I should head for the medicine chest followed by bed, as there will be early feeds for 8 birds, and extra-early for the new baby...another Barbet. His eyes only came through yesterday, so best guess is he is about 6 days old. Being a barbet, he already knows that he has to bite, but hasn't quite grasped the mechanics of pinch and twist and dig the pointy bit in, so his bites mainly consist of half an inch of finger being swallowed, while he tries to work out why that isn't satisfying.

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