Raising a bird is quite the community project. All members of the family pool their resources to keep track of the rapidly growing Peep. And I don't just mean children.
By today, Peep didn't even need the cell phone to signal him to eat. He now thinks that tweezers make a dandy herald of food, and has even started asking to be fed. Whenever he wakes up, he lets out a single (LOUD) peep, and waits for the Tweezers of Destiny.
When I was a freshman in high school, I raised a sparrow to adulthood, the only success up to that time, and for many years after. I named him Hoover, because he was like a vacuum. Mom barely remembers Hoover. That could be because he spent most of his time at school with me. My wonderful teachers were very patient for the 2 weeks or more when their classes were regularly interrupted by a bass "PEEP! PEEP! PEEP!" Peep is quite dainty in comparison with Hoover.
He's eating a mix of soggy cat food and berries. We'll give him bugs if we catch any. He didn't much care for the tuna shreds, so we gave up on that one. And he's started flirting - fluffing his feathers now that he has more of them, fluttering his wings, and trying to look adorable so I'll give him all the goodies instead of the other birds in the nest. (There are no other birds in the nest, but that doesn't hinder his efforts in the slightest.)
Now that I'm getting my voice back a little, I can make peeping noises, and he'll respond. Or Jack will text me so my phone beeps, and Peep thinks someone is calling him. Or a car will honk in the distance...beep...and Peep will think I was calling him to dinner.
No matter when or what, his slightest move is watched with deathless, unblinking interest.
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| Laila |
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| Wannabe kept purring this rusty purr that sounded more like a growl. Trust me, though, it was a purr. It sounded terrifying, putting Peep off his feed for more than 3 seconds. |
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| If you would just come out, then we could get to know each other better. |
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| Expensia takes the night shift. |
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