T00tsyd
Well-known member
It is with sadness that I confess that I recognise that I am simply not enough for my little feathered friend.
A year ago if Syd spied a plastic bag on the horizon he would take flight straight for it and spend hours loving it and fight to keep it if I tried to retrieve it. Gradually I have weened him off them as much as for the potential danger as anything, but I now must report a change in his affections.
Fabric! Anything. Any colour. Any size. Any consistency. It doesn't seem to matter one jot. A tea-towel left on the side, a duster mid clean, a pile of washing - before or after time spent in the washing machine. It matters not. As soon as he sees it he make a beeline for it. He sidles up to it, plays gently with his beak lifting the corners until he grabs it and propels it to the floor. Once there he gently flutters down and guards it pinning me with his eye daring me to attempt to remove it.
He carefully places one foot on it and every now and then lifting it up with his beak although so far he has made no attempt to go under it. He will stray from the edge to the centre all the while glaring at me but making affectionate chirruping noises as he professes a great and deep love for his new conquest.
I feel jilted!!
He is definitely his own man!
Now just because I have come to type of his cruel treatment of me, he has come and perched in his favourite position on the back of my neck preening happily. Fickle boy!!
A year ago if Syd spied a plastic bag on the horizon he would take flight straight for it and spend hours loving it and fight to keep it if I tried to retrieve it. Gradually I have weened him off them as much as for the potential danger as anything, but I now must report a change in his affections.
Fabric! Anything. Any colour. Any size. Any consistency. It doesn't seem to matter one jot. A tea-towel left on the side, a duster mid clean, a pile of washing - before or after time spent in the washing machine. It matters not. As soon as he sees it he make a beeline for it. He sidles up to it, plays gently with his beak lifting the corners until he grabs it and propels it to the floor. Once there he gently flutters down and guards it pinning me with his eye daring me to attempt to remove it.
He carefully places one foot on it and every now and then lifting it up with his beak although so far he has made no attempt to go under it. He will stray from the edge to the centre all the while glaring at me but making affectionate chirruping noises as he professes a great and deep love for his new conquest.
I feel jilted!!
He is definitely his own man! Now just because I have come to type of his cruel treatment of me, he has come and perched in his favourite position on the back of my neck preening happily. Fickle boy!!
