And 8 Becomes 9

At some point our family adopted what we call "Dad's 7th child" - a pigeon named Archie Chirps. How, you ask, does a family end up with a 7th child which is, in fact, a rat with wings?

Well, let me share with you the back story:


On Thu, May 24, 2012 at 11:10 AM, Susan Kearl <skearl@gmail.com> wrote:

So.  Here is what I pictured when I brought the pigeon home: 

He would live isolated from humans in the garage or on the deck, saving only for the times when I fed him (seeds scattered through grass so he would learn to peck and hunt for his food).  He would have no name and no friends, because that way no one would be sad when he was set free.  He was supposed to be feral, NOT a pet. 

Here is [apparently] what Dad pictured:

Dad would cuddle Mr. Chirps until the bird stopped screaming at the sight of humans.  Mr. Chirps would grow to love being pet by Dad, and the two would be BFFs.  Then Mr Chirps, having been taught to fly by Dad, would wing off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

Is anyone surprised that now, after Dad's tender ministrations, Mr. Chirps refuses to leave the deck?  That instead, he flies over to the sliding door where he hovers like a hummingbird, frustrated that he can't land on his favorite perch (Dad's head)?  Dad even let him inside (because Dad fails at understanding the concept of "feral") where Mr. Chirps explored the countertop (NO ONE TELL MOM) and decided that this is where he will live out his days.  He's not afraid of Willy anymore, so even if he did go free and forget about Dad, he would still probably be eaten by a coyote. 

Disaster.  We shall never again take in a wild animal because we suck at rehabilitating.

This is how we ended up a family of 9.

And how I ended up staring into this face while eating dinner:

[Creepy. Completely and totally creepy.]