Bloody Murder!!!

Anyone want to represent me? I am sure they are gonna figure out it was me soon! I was insane I tell you! I couldn't help myself. I just had to do it! What a mess I made! Out out! Damn spot!

This is what it looked like after we finished, but before we cleaned and sealed it. It was a bit dirty, but nothing like what we found after the dump trucks had run on it!

Bloody murder is what happens when people dare to desecrate the Stamp Monkey's work. It is the only way to be sure that the offending party won't return to ruin even more of my artistic endeavors. The above should be a warning for all the people who drive dirty dump trucks over my work before we can even get it cleaned and sealed! ARG! Ordinarily, I am not a violent person, but look at this mess! SHEESH people! Get some manners and wash your truck before you track mud all over the place. Were you born in a pig sty? This messy person caused me to miss several hours of prime StampMonkey nap time! I spent an entire day crawling on my hands and knees scrubbing this crap with a wire brush! Oh the outrage! I had to do something, and dragging this Neanderthal out of his big truck and clubbing him seemed right at the time! Just look at this mess, and tell me you wouldn't have done the same!

Of course, you know that I am kidding. The red stuff in the first picture is the red color that we used to paint the joints in the brick borders. It really does look like blood though, and I can fantasize about bludgeoning these idiots. No respect for other people's work. They had the nads to get pissed because we had the street blocked off to clean up their mess. There is another way into this complex, and they had to drive around. Boo hoo hoo! Sloppy pigs.

Here is a picture of one section that I had to cut in by hand. Radiuses are hard. If you make a tool that will work, it only works on that specific radius, so for every one you have to have a different tool. That is costly and time consuming, so some poor fool gets to cut them in by hand... like me :) Actually I like doing stuff like that. It is a challenge to make it look good, and match the rest of the tools.

Here is another angle.

And a close up of the texture.

And finally, here is a picture of one side cleaned, touched up, and sealed. At least we didn't have to scrub this one by hand! Thank goodness this job is finished. Whew!

Modern medieval politics versus integrity.

This will make absolutely no sense to those of you who read my blog regularly, so feel free to skip this one...

For all you *peers* in Northern Ansteorra, chivalry or otherwise, who have contributed to my husband's hurt, SHAME ON YOU. All of you who asked him why he wasn't a Knight, and since gone on to become one yourself, SHAME. All of you who told him that he was "your peer" and then didn't work to get him recognized as one...SHAME. All of you who learned to fight because he taught you... SHAME. Those of you who promised him that you would promote him, and gave him squire's belts, and then sat on your lazy ass, DOUBLE SHAME. I can't say it loudly enough. SHAME ON YOU ALL!

You who swore that when you got your belt, you'd change things...Liars. You didn't even try. You people are NOT peers. None of you have done your duty. Your *job* is to seek out people who should be peers and promote them. What is wrong with you? Is it so difficult? I think not. Many of you told him it would be easy to make him a knight. If that were true, then you didn't even try. I do not want to hear about politics. That is a bullshit excuse and you know it. You are either lazy, or liars, of both. If he wasn't worth your effort, then you should take off that white leather and resign your peerage. It's obviously too big a job for you. Those of you who gave *me* your word...I know what it's worth now. Honor and integrity indeed. And *he* is the one the Crown labeled as dishonorable. I have to love the irony. Next to you people, he is a fucking saint.

Why did you tell him that he could be a knight if you had no intention of bringing him up in a belted circle. Why would you give him hope? You are nothing less than cruel to give someone hope, and then not do your part to make it happen. He did everything that every single one of you asked. How damn many sets of new garb does someone need? How many beers must one drink to be part of the club? How many tourneys does one have to win. How many times does he have to beat the people who have won crown? He jumped through all the hoops, and you did nothing, NOTHING!!! Maybe he didn't kiss enough asses. It isn't a fucking fraternity guys. It isn't about wearing the "team jersey". It is about recognizing someone who is a peer. You have failed in your duty to the game. Enjoy your power. Thanks for nothing.

I loathe every single one of you who ever gave him hope, and then didn't do your part. I hope your white leather makes you feel good. I hope it was a good trade for your integrity. It makes me want to vomit to see the hurt in him. I hope you are happy. You have finally achieved your goal, if your goal was to run him out of your game. I hope it felt good to twist the knife in his back. Congratulations on **your** recognition. I hope you choke on it.

Bitter much? Hell yes I am bitter. I have watched a good man come to doubt himself. Every time one of you said you would help and didn't, it crushed his spirit a little more. Would you sit by and watch this? I did, because I have seen what "complaining" does to a prospective peer's chances. I have closed my jaw for years, and watched you fine people destroy the very qualities you are supposed to seek out and promote. I know you probably don't care how many times I have cried in frustration at the hurt I have seen. In the real world, being a Peer in the SCA means nothing, but it meant a whole lot to him. It wasn't a game to him. The recognition that it brings in your "game" was important to him. This honorable, kind, talented man who wasn't good enough to be in your club is five times the man **any of you** are. You think he wasn't worthy of your accolades? You have it wrong. You people are not worthy of him. Yeah, I am bitter. Thanks guys... nice... real nice.

Do the game a favor. Stop telling people who are not recognized peers that they are "your peer", if you aren't going to work to make them one. Just stop it. If someone has no chance in hell of being recognized, do the kind thing, and just tell them. Don't make them chase the goal for ten or fifteen years, not knowing they will never achieve it. That is not kindness. It breeds despair and hurt. Trust me, I watched it happen. Stop taking squires, apprentices or proteges if you are not going to see them through to peerage. If you only want an association with them to bask in their light, or claim their accomplishments as somehow your own, stop. That is an abuse, both of your status and your associate. Stop raising the bar to an impossibly high level. Why should they have to do twice as much as you did to be a peer? That is wrong and you damn well know it. STOP IT NOW.

And before you go blaming any of this on him, he asked me not to do it. He has a kind soul, and wouldn't knowingly cause hurt, though sorely hurt himself. He said, just let it go. Hell NO! Me sitting back and watching for fifteen fucking years didn't help him, did it? Just letting it go is what makes it OK for it to happen. People get discouraged, disgusted, hurt and confused, and they walk away. That makes it easy for this bullshit to continue. I am sure that if any of you manage to find this, you will be positive that I can't possibly be talking about you... well guess what? I AM talking about you. Just be glad that I don't play any more, or you might find yourself embarrassed. I am beyond caring what any of you less than stellar people think of me, so I would have no problem calling you out in public. For those of you who may be sitting there thinking he "deserved what he got", fuck you. He didn't, and you know it. For those of you who are cheering as you read this, man up and do something about it. The one or two of you who actually helped him as you were supposed to, thank you.

For the rest of you, one last time.

Shame on you.

I believe...

I believe that this world sometimes hides things that are subtly *other*. Things that are beyond the mundane. From the time I was a tiny girl, my mother told me that I talked to faeries. She was convinced that *I* believed. Of course, I have always been a strange girl :) I tend to be wildly skeptical, you could even say jaded, about most things but on occasion I run across something that is so fantastic that it overwhelms my disbelief.

Yesterday while waiting on the (mundane) concrete mixer to show up, I decided that nature called. This job is in the middle of what used to be a pasture, with lots of trees and a nice creek running through the middle of everything. Needless to say, there are no...facilities. I had to go a little distance to find a spot that offered enough privacy for me. As I was looking for the perfect place, I stumbled upon something *other*. I forgot all about my "nature call, in the face of this natural distraction. I turned around and went back to my truck for the camera.

I found my proof that faeries exist. Hidden in the middle of this place that soon will contain more banal roads, I found the Faerie Highway.

There are under and overpasses. Who knows how long it took to build this. I can understand all the tales of faeries casting a glamour on humans and bringing them into their world for a day. The poor victim spends what seems a single day in this glorious place, only to find that a much longer time has passed when they return to the "real" world. If I hadn't had the more immediate concern of making the next mortgage payment on our shop, I could have stayed in that quiet beautiful place all day. I have no trouble understanding how someone could lose all sense of time in a place like this.

I think they must use this path a lot. I don't know that I would want to be out in these woods after dark.

I can see a dragon's head here. Nobody ever accused me of being any sort of sane.

I can easily imagine a pixie princess bathing in the light of a full moon on this pretty chaise.

And another strange creature from some far away place.

A quiet pocket of natural grace and beauty that is good for the soul.

I am more than a little upset that such places are increasingly being destroyed to build more unneeded McMansions. I do not understand why people want to move to the "country" to live in a 4000 square foot zero lot line house, and then bitch that there is a possum in their swimming pool. Oh dear. Progress is a double edged sword at times. Almost all of the places that I used to know as a kid are gone, covered up by sprawl. It is sad.

This looks like the stairway to heaven, to me.

And lastly, here is the proof that made me believe. These are actual footprints. The little black spots are grains of sand. I have never seen tracks like these, nor can I imagine what made them...unless it was a Faerie.

And in the greenhouse

The greenhouse is alive with Mom's favorite colors. The orchids have mostly finished, and gone on to a new home, but there are plenty of other things blooming. They aren't as showy, but the colors are so vivid that they are hard to ignore. Many of the plants are over 30 years old. She always loved odd things (she really loved me a lot!). I think that is why she had so many succulents in the greenhouse. They go for years just sitting there, and suddenly they bloom, just when you think they are dead, like this weird thing.

It is sheer stubbornness that I haven't gotten rid of the greenhouse plants. I think they will be the last thing to go. When they are gone, I will finally have to admit that she is gone too. I am not ready yet.

My mom is still around... in the garden

Here is evidence that my mom's last 25+ years of tending her gardens was worthwhile. I can feel her. Everywhere you look there is something else that she planted and loved. It smells like pure heaven here. There was a wood thrush singing and the jenny wrens are building a nest. She loved her gardens.

This is the guardian of the garden. Mom was so excited when she brought her home many years ago. She has lovingly kept watch on the gardens, and now she is old and rusted, but she is still on watch. This is one of the few things that I think I will bring home. I can't stand the thought of putting her out with the garbage.

I think she is still here, watching the flowers bloom.

Brutal Brutus

When Max Too passed away, the search was on again for a new friend for poor Cassie. I looked for quite a while for something suitable as a companion. Most of the birds I saw were either untamed to the point that they would slash you if you tried to pick them up, or unfriendly with other birds, or neurotic. I was not willing to settle for that, so I started looking at having a bird shipped in. I studied all of the online sites for bird sales. Let me tell you, that can be a big challenge.

Just like selling or buying a horse on-line can be difficult, so can buying a bird. You never know when people are exaggerating, or being truthful, or they really just don't know anything about the bird they are trying to sell. I must have sent off 100 emails to various sellers. I was not feeling the love :(

I finally found a green wing macaw, and the owners were in the bird/pet business. They had been breeders, and were retiring. Very nice people, and the pictures they sent of the bird showed him being handled. After talking to them a couple of times, I decided that Brutus was my best bet. I was adamant about having a male bird this time, since both of my females had died due to reproductive problems. They reassured me that he had been DNA tested as male. Woot!

We made arrangements to ship him to Tulsa from Washington state. Geeze, that is the most complicated thing I have ever done with an animal. Trying to arrange a flight for an animal is hard. The airlines have very strict rules about shipping. You have to have a certain type of cage, and food/water requirements were strange. Also, you are required to have health papers. They also have very strict rules about temperature. If it is above a certain temp on the runway, they will not ship animals. I know they do this to keep the animals safe, but it is very limiting. We had to do a red-eye shipment, and he got here about 11:00pm. The last flight into Tulsa.

This bird was fricking *huge*. When I opened the cage to give him some water, I was actually a bit afraid. He was easily the largest cage bird I had ever touched. He was almost as big as a hyacinth. He was so happy to get some water that I immediately became his best friend. Thank goodness. He could do serious damage with that beak. His head was bigger than my entire hand. He could remove a finger, given the opportunity. He was absolutely gorgeous, and very gentle with me. He was not at all fond of my DH, but I had been told he didn't like men, so I wasn't surprised.

His introduction to Cassie girl was not inspiring. He absolutely hated her guts. There was no doubt that he really did want to kill her. Cassie had lived in the "bird room" for about ten years. The room was bird safe, so they lived mostly on their cages, rather than being locked inside. This was hard for her, because all the sudden, Cassie is locked up! Poor girl. She didn't understand this, and as soon as she was let out, she immediately ran and jumped on his cage. He jumped on the side of the cage and started reaching through the bars trying to grab her. I am afraid if he had ever gotten hold of her, he would have killed her. As it was, he did manage to bite off one of her toes. We tried various ways to introduce them slowly, but he never got over being territorial, and was a danger to her.

At this point, I decided that I didn't have the funds to keep trying to find a suitable pal for her. I had spent over $3000 in the last few months, and as much as I loved her, I was out of resources.

I eventually found the *best* homes for them both. Brutus went to a woman who has something like 15 birds, and really knows what they need, and is all about giving it to them. She is in the medical profession, and takes Brutus to nursing homes to visit the residents. He is always a big hit. Cassie is living with her new mom who adores her. The woman is very good with her, and Cassie is very happy.

I miss my birds sometimes. It broke my heart to have to admit that I couldn't give them what they needed, but it was the best thing I could do for them. I still occasionally go to the bird room thinking I have to feed them...I guess almost 20 years of routine is hard to break. I am very glad that they have excellent homes where they are loved.

He is just a gorgeous bird. He loves his new mother. She brings him by to see me occasionally. He remembers me and is happy to come sit on my arm. Brutus has apparently kept up his mission to do away with any bird that has the guts to get in his territory. One of her small birds flew onto his cage and Brutus caught him and removed several of his toes! Bad Boy. This is why he got the nickname of Brutal Brutus. He is sweet as honey with humans, but other birds... It is WAR!

He is begging to be let out. He promised he wouldn't kill Cassie... he is a fibber!

Max too :)

When Max died, Cassie became very depressed. She screamed a lot, and was very unhappy. I set out to find her a new companion. There were a few large birds in Tulsa, but not many, and nothing that seemed suitable. I looked at a couple that were too unfriendly, and didn't seem to like other birds. I was starting to lose hope when I found an ad for a B&G macaw.

The lady who ran the aviary was a bit of a loon, but I was beginning to worry for Cassie, so I went and looked. She had quite a few large birds. I was not terribly impressed with her place. The birds all seemed starved for attention, but well kept, so I thought it was probably ok. I know some folks just breed them, and don't get very attached. I couldn't do it. I like them too much to sell them :)

While I was there, I saw the B&G. I talked to her for a bit. She came right to the side of the cage, and asked to be scratched. I scrubbed her head a bit, and she was upset when I stopped. She begged for more. She grabbed my hand with her foot and held it. Gah! How sad. I asked what her name was. Wait for it. This bird was also named Max. I guess it must be a common name for birds. I thought this was a bad omen, and was ready to leave, despite my attraction to her. The woman was not sure on the sex. I didn't want another female, since the cancer that got Max was a reproductive type. She told me she thought it was a male, so I decided that since I hadn't been able to find any other suitable birds, that she would do ok.

I plunked down my $1100 and we put her in a travel cage, loaded up her big cage, and home we went. I put her on Old Max's cage, and let her get acquainted with Cassie. Cassie was loose, and came right over to see the new face. She was very excited. Max2 was not as pleased. She didn't try to kill Cassie outright, but she definitely didn't want her in the same space. After a couple of days, they were at least not chasing each other around, and Cassie was perking up.

This bird was so sweet. She was a definite lover. Wanted to be touched, talked to, and petted. She wanted to be with you all the time. Such a sweet girl. I found out that it was a girl because about the end of the third week, I went in to feed them in the morning and found her sitting on the bottom of her cage. This is a very bad sign. We had a pour scheduled for that day, so I took her in to the vet, and left her. As I said goodbye, I had a feeling that it would probably be the last time I saw her alive. I got the call from the vet around 11:00am that they had taken her to surgery, and she had passed away. Apparently, she had been so unhappy where she was that when I took her home and changed her environment, it triggered a massive hormone release, and I couldn't quite understand, but the vet said that she had dropped an egg into her peritoneum, and had become septic. There was no saving her :(

I felt totally awful. I asked the vet if this was something that I had done, and he reassured me that no, it wasn't. She "died of happiness". Great. That sure didn't make me feel any better. I was just very depressed about the whole situation. I kept wondering if I had just left her there, would she still be alive? I know she would be starved for attention, but at least she would have been alive. Sometimes life just sucks.

Here are the only pictures I have of her. She was very feminine and delicate. A lovely shade of turquoise. So sweet and gentle. I didn't have her very long, but I got attached very quickly. I miss her too.

Hey Lady!!!

Pretty baby!
Scared again!

I just washed my hair and I can't do a thing with it!

Hello Cutie was Cassie's favorite phrase. Cassie is an Umbrella Cockatoo. Snowy white with a pale yellow on her underparts. Such a pretty and delicate little girl. She too came from my friend Randy. I am *such* a sucker. I had looked for a companion for Max for some time, and had not found another big bird that I liked. I stopped by Randy's to pick up some vaccinations, and saw Cassie. She was so pretty and sweet. He picked her up off her perch, and handed her to me. She immediately latched on to the front of my jacket and snuggled up under my chin. Dang. Sucker. It's written large across my forehead! I was hooked.

So, I coughed up a considerable sum of money for this little jewel. The day I went to pick her up, I was chatting with Randy and Kim (his wonderful office manager/assistant), and I heard the most gawd awful sound! Geeze, what the hell *is* that??? Randy smiled. Kim looked everywhere *but* at me. Oh dear. Yes, it was Cassie. Now a macaw can scream. They can scream loud enough to be heard outside a shut up house, all the way into the street, but a cockatoo... Holy sweet mother! I have never heard anything as deafening as a cockatoo screaming. They like to scream. They scream at sunrise, and of course sunset. They scream when they are happy, or sad, or pissed. Oh my dear lord!

Here is this relatively small (compared to the macaw) bird who is just as lovely a little person as she can be, and she is screaming her fool head off. Randy just laughed and said, "oh, she does that when the sun goes down". Great, I muttered under my breath. I was sorely tempted to choke him and make him cough up my $$$. He couldn't get us out of there fast enough :-)

Home we go. I felt really good about it actually. Here was a bird that was not aggressive, and would be a fine companion for Max. HA HA! Max detested her on sight. The same Max who would sit on my husband's arm and croon at him suddenly became rather pissy, and occasionally violent. My DH refused to handle her any more after the biting incident. Oh dear. Poor Max was jealous that her "flock" had been invaded by this white screaming meenie. Cassie on the other hand was in love. With all of us, Max included. She was absolutely the sweetest bird I have ever seen. She would walk up your arm to your shoulder and turn her head towards you, and rub under your chin, giving you a hug. Just adorable.

Cassie had a pretty large vocabulary for a U-2. She said: HI, Hello (sexy voice) Hey, Hey kid/cutie whatcha doin'?,and Hey Lady!!! When she said Hey Lady, we soon learned that it was time to go back to her cage. That phrase meant that she was soon going to explode into bad behavior. I am glad we learned the key word! She liked to rock and roll. She would bob her head and at the same time, with each bob, she would raise her crest a bit more until it was fully up. She looked very scary when she did that, but it was a game.

Why are all of my animals such chickens?? Cassie had several phobias. One of them was eyeglasses. If you had glasses on, she would just freak out and scream. If she was close enough, she would try to grab them. She also had a fear of anything round. This included soda cans. If you had the timerety to drink from a soda can in her presence, she would bite you. Not hard, just enough to show her disapproval. So there! She was also horrified by anything that had the appearance of a snake. We were watching a nature program one evening and there was a snake that was stalking a flying squirrel up a tree. The squirrel flew to the next tree, and the snake jumped out of the tree after it. Cassie *flipped* out! Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh in a voice we had not heard before. It sounded exactly like a human being being murdered. She spread her wings and every feather on this little girl was standing straight out. She got very big all the sudden. She swayed from one foot to the other hissing. Scared us to death. Sheesh! She would often puff up and rock when she was unsure of a situation, or if something scared her. Big old chicken. She was hand raised...where do you suppose she'd ever seen a snake? Instinct I guess. Oh, I forgot to mention that she was afraid of her own shadow too. Here she is checking out her shadow on the wall.

She cursed too. You could always tell when she was cussing because she would whisper. Whoever owned her previously must have cursed a lot. It was hilarious. When she would get frustrated she would mutter "shit" under her breath. She said that a lot as she was edging closer and closer to Max. She desperately wanted to be friends. She was so persistent. It was very interesting to watch her break Max's resolve over time. Eventually, *they* bonded, and I would find them sleeping together in the mornings, with Cassie under Max's wing. I had no idea that this was unusual, and that most macaws will not tolerate another species in their space. I was just happy that the plan had come together, and they had each other.

When Max died, I thought for a while Cassie would die too. It was awful. I started a search for a new companion.... more on that later.

I sometimes miss my birds

I have a good friend who is a Vet. He has always been into having strange and exotic animals in his office, and on his farm. He has had everything from sugar gliders and coati mundis to camels. He would often keep some of these wonder pets in his office and I got to handle them and watch them. It was fun. I particularly liked the pygmy hedgehogs...too cute. He went through a phase of birds. He started with an amazon parrot. He was very cute, and talked up a storm. He soon got grumpy at all the kids poking at him. Poor boy. Pretty quickly, he added a blue and gold macaw. Technically, that is blue and yellow, but well... Anyway, on my trips to pick up this or that, or bring one of the barn dogs in for shots or whatever, I started talking to the macaw. At first, it was not at all friendly. There was a chair by it's cage, so I would sit and talk. After a while, the bird began to actually listen to me. Then, slowly, it began to be curious enough to actually climb down the cage to come see me. I would scratch it, and talk quietly, and the bird actually started to like me. This went on for about 9 months or so.

I had to bring one of the dogs in for something, and as I was about to leave, Randy asked me if I had ever thought of owning a bird. Well, yes I had. As a kid I had a couple of small birds. I liked them, but we never bonded, and they didn't live very long, so I moved on to various other animals. I have always loved birds. They are just so... other. They are not like other animals as pets. After all, what other pet can actually speak to us in our own language? They are beautiful and fascinating. I told him that I had often wanted one, but I hadn't really thought about it. He told me that he would like to sell the B&G. He would like to sell it to me. I asked him why, and he told me that every time I left his office the bird would scream for hours, and was inconsolable until my next visit! Hmmm, imagine that. I had unknowingly managed to bond with this big old bird, and it really didn't want to have anything to do with Randy any more. I sort of felt awful about it really. I had no idea that these birds would actually bond with a human. The person becomes the mate, and they can get so attached that they will actually grieve if they are take from their "mates". I knew that Randy was very fond of the bird, and I think it hurt his feelings that the bird didn't want to have anything to do with him any more.

I told him I needed to think about it. I was working at the barn, and was hardly well paid. Even at the cheap price he quoted me, it was a ton of money. Here I had managed to get attached to this bird. It was gorgeous, and it loved *me*. Gah! Well, you know what happened... I saved my money and bought the bird. Randy said he had been told it was a male, and that his name was Max. I was in heaven. He was such a cool guy. He could talk a bit, and he was pretty gentle. Randy was upset to see him go. He continued to care for him and asked after Max often over the years.

I took him home and got him settled in. He was a hoot. I used to take him outside and he would talk to the other birds. He was always very eager to go outdoors, but he was a big coward too. He was very insecure outside, and would tightly grip my arm and talk the entire time he was looking around to see what ws going on. It was fun to put him down in the grass. He would start shoveling dirt with his beak and digging with his feet. Very amusing guy. I was *not* very amused the morning I went in to feed *him* and found an egg! LOL I remember being in a panic over it and calling Randy, frantically ranting about my bird laying an egg. I am sure anyone watching would have been rolling on the ground, convulsed with laughter at my panic. I however, was not amused. So we tried to change her name to Maxine, but it just didn't work... Max it was.

She was such a fun bird. She was very attached to me, even after we got her a companion bird. She would talk to me and you could hear her when she wanted attention: Hi Max... Hi Max. If that didn't work, then it was Hi Popeye! Whoever owned her previously had apparently liked Popeye cartoons and taught her to say Hi Popeye. She had a sort of limited vocabulary - Hi, Hello, Max and Popeye. Any combination of those, including Hi PopMax would do. She would come running for a good head scrubbing. She would also, very gently chew on my fingers or hair. She loved grooming me. Occasionally she would be pissy and bite, but not often, and not hard.

I can totally understand why people are afraid of birds. Birds are pretty smart, and they *know* when you are afraid of them. It tends to make them act like bullies. If they bite and you pull back, it becomes a game, so when they bite you, no matter how bad it hurts, you have to sit there and act like it's nothing. You can reprimand them, and they will learn, but if they latch on to you, hold still! Max used to close her beak on my finger, just enough to apply pressure. If I flinched, she would clamp down harder, but if I just stayed relaxed, she would rub my finger with her tongue and then release it. It is kind of scary with a bird big enough to cut your finger off :) Parrots will also pinpoint their pupils. This is hugely intimidating to the unschooled, and a warning to those who are. Pinpointing means the bird is either excited, scared, or agitated, and you are likely to be badly bitten if you continue annoying or scaring them. Some pinpointing is harmless, like when you make an interesting noise. Max would pinpoint wildly if I whistled the Popeye the Sailor song. She tried very hard to sing along, but she just couldn't do all the words. Poor girl. They are merely showing an active interest, but unless you know the bird, it is best to cease and desist, or you could become it's next meal. They are also scary just because of what they are. Watch their behavior and see what it reminds you of. The eyes, the beaks, the legs and feet. They really are feathered dinosaurs. My DH calls them Dino Birds. It is a bit freaky :)

I had her for almost 15 years. She died of cancer. I miss hearing "Hi Popeye!" first thing in the morning. She was my buddy :) She is buried at the rear of our shop building with my dogs.

Next, I will tell you about Max's friend Cassie!