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Posted by Zoom! on January 10, 2011, at 10:47 am |
I was very worried about Sweet Baby Jeebus, the littlest lovebird, who hatched on Christmas Day. Last Tuesday he weighed just eight tiny grams, compared to his siblings who were all at least triple that. One even weighed five times as much!
And skinny doesn’t even begin to describe Jeebus. You hear about people being just skin and bones, and he seemed even less substantial than that. He seemed embryonic. If you held him up to the light, you could see right through him. His skin and bones were so thin and fragile. His blood vessels were mere threads. His whole body throbbed along with his heart. And even though he was quite literally starving, he wouldn’t eat. I was scared for him. He was in imminent danger of dying.
I’m happy to report that he now weighs 18 grams! His siblings are all in the 40-50 gram range, so he’s still tiny in comparison, but he’s coming along very nicely. He eats enthusiastically, his eyes are starting to open, and he responds to my voice and touch. He’s getting a little down on his wee pink body, which is great because he was so tiny he would get cold very easily. I have to hold him in my hand while feeding him to keep his body temperature from plummeting. (In the nest, all the babies sleep in a big pile in order to share heat, plus I have a heating pad under their box, so he was warm enough in there. But I worry that he might get crushed or injured.)
Here’s a picture of him, taken the day before yesterday with his siblings.
And here’s a picture of him eating, taken last night. The trick is to get more into him than onto him.
I wish I’d gotten some pictures of him at eight grams, but I was more preoccupied with getting him fed and keeping him warm.
One night, when his outlook seemed particularly dismal, I said, in desperation, “God, if you make this baby bird open his mouth and start eating, I’ll make an effort to believe in you.” I figured if there was a God, he might see this as an opportunity to accomplish two things at once – save the bird, and convert me. Besides, this baby bird was born on Christmas Day, which should give him a little extra grace, right?
But nothing happened. The baby bird kept his mouth firmly closed. I tucked him into bed empty, and expected him to die within hours.
But the next morning he was still alive. He gobbled his breakfast, and he’s been eating ever since.
Which reminds me of a joke:
A man wakes up late for a new job interview. Quickly, he takes a shower, eats breakfast, and gets into his car. When he finally gets there, he can’t find a parking place. He looks and he looks, but he just doesn’t find one. Finally, he prays, saying, “God, if you find me a parking spot, I will go to synagogue every Friday night, every Saturday morning, and every yom tov.” A minute later, a vacant parking place suddenly materializes in front of him. “Never mind, God,” he says, “I found one!”
Posted by Zoom! on January 7, 2011, at 11:25 am |
The City of Ottawa is considering picking up garbage bi-weekly instead of weekly, but picking up all recycling/composting (blue box, black box and green bin) weekly instead of bi-weekly.
I like this idea. Ever since the green bin composting program was launched a year ago, I’ve been generating very little actual ‘garbage.’ Maybe, on average, a white kitchen-catcher full each week. Everything else goes into one of the bins. Yesterday I even had to relegate some green bin waste to the garbage, because there wasn’t any room left in my green bin.
Almost everything that used to go in the garbage can now go in the green bin. Mine’s full of newspapers from the floors of the four bird cages, kitty litter, plate scrapings, banana peels, vegetables that were purchased with the best of intentions, and floor sweepings.
I noticed yesterday morning on my 5km walk that while my block is actually pretty good (almost every house had a green bin on the curb awaiting pickup), there were quite a few blocks in which only one or two green bins were put out. Those houses that didn’t put out green bins tended to have at least three or four green garbage bags on the curb.
The proposed change in the pick-up schedule should encourage non-recyclers and non-composters to get with the program.
I have to admit I wasn’t an early or enthusiastic user of the recycling program (the blue bin or the black bin). I knew a former City alderman who insisted that the whole recycling program was a scam. He said the City didn’t actually recycle any of the stuff people sorted and put out in their bins, because it was financially prohibitive. So I didn’t bother at first.
Eventually, though, I started. I figured maybe his information was outdated (after all, how long has it been since we even had aldermen?)
Ever since the green bin program was launched, I’ve been much better about all my recycling. I love my green bin, and I’m proud of my dainty little bag of garbage that goes to the curb.
In GC’s neighbourhood, the green bin program was delayed and optional. People had to actually make a phone call if they wanted a green bin. Most people didn’t bother. GC was thrilled to finally get his. He’s a really good recycler – he even washes empty cans and milk cartons and removes labels before putting them in the bins. I’m not that good. I have a hard enough time getting around to washing dishes, let alone trash.
Anyway. There will be a series of public consultations before any decisions are made. I expect a lot of people will oppose the proposal, for lots of interesting reasons. (I’m hoping, though, that the kind of people who don’t bother recycling are also the kind of people who don’t bother going to public consultations, and in the absence of any serious public outcry, the proposal will go through.)
Posted by Zoom! on January 5, 2011, at 9:18 am |
The littlest bird has gone from 10 grams down to 8. It’s scary. I’m not sure he’s going to make it.
It took me an hour and 45 minutes to feed them all their first breakfast today, and about 45 minutes of that time was spent on him: 40 minutes trying to coax him to open his beak, and then five minutes squirting the food in once he finally opened it. I can’t tell you how good it felt to see his little crop fill up.
I know it’s all about survival of the fittest, but that’s a difficult concept for those of us who always root for the underdog. I have trouble with wildlife documentaries, too, even though I love them. I feel so sorry for all the animals – the terrified prey, the hungry predators. Everybody seems like an underdog to me.
Posted by Zoom! on January 3, 2011, at 8:34 am |
 Last night we spirited the five baby lovebirds away from their parents, and brought them over to my house, where they will be hand-raised for about a month, until they fledge and wean. At that point, I’ll be looking for homes for them. (Want one? Two? Three?)
The reason we hand-raise them is because they make much better pets if they’re raised by humans. They learn to trust people and see people as flock mates, so they’re tame and friendly. Parent-raised birds, on the other hand, make better breeders.
This morning was the first weighing and feeding. The babies range in age from 9 to 16 days, and in weight from 10 to 40 grams. For you non-metric types, an ounce equals 28 grams; I credit my misspent youth for this particular piece of knowledge.
There’s a huge difference between the biggest and the littlest birds, even though the biggest one is only a week older. He can see, his wings have the beginnings of feathers, he can hold his head up and wrap his feet around my finger, and he walks like a drunken penguin. The littlest guy is pink and naked and blind and helpless and I’m scared of him. I’m scared I’m going to squeeze him too hard or fall in love with him or something.
The first feeding didn’t go very well, but that’s normal. They have to get the hang of it, and so do I. I’ll feed them again in a couple of hours.
It’s the weirdest thing how the parent birds appear so cavalier about the disappearance of their babies. They barely noticed their absence, even though their lives have revolved around the babies since the eggs were laid. You’d expect them to get frantic and search everywhere for them, but no…they were just thrilled that we’d hung a shoot of lemongrass in their cage. No empty nest syndrome for them!
Posted by Zoom! on January 2, 2011, at 10:31 am |
January
GC and I went to anti-prorogue rallies and Constable Eric Czapnik’s funeral. We drove to Brockville where Grace fixed my socks. I acquired art from the Astronaut Love Triangle and GC built a scary fire. We tried to save the Hartman’s Piano, signed up for a creative writing course, got into Indian cooking, participated in Everybody’s Art Show, and mourned the death of J.D. Salinger.
Feburary
I took an eight-day career orientation course. We saw The Good Lovelies at a Bobcat house concert, started volunteering at Christie Lake Kids, and Duncan lost weight – five pounds by the end of the year. The strollers-on-the-bus controversy flared up again, the City rolled out the Green Bins, I started decluttering, and we filmed the spontaneous victory parade when Canada won hockey gold.
March
I found Duncan in Rachael’s novel, and we saw Blood.Klaat at GCTC. We attended a transgender workshop at Venus Envy. I was in a bit of a funk, and spent a lot of time watching webcams of owls raising owlets and hummingbirds raising hummingbirdlets.
April
I started taking anti-depressants, my friend Junkyard Gary Watson died, I visited my Dad and Merle, and Merle fixed my socks. Duncan and GC had an adventure, Tiger cheated, and Carmen fixed my socks.
May
Duncan caught a mouse, I took a two-week course for ‘mature’ unemployed workers, bought a rabbit lamp at the Great Glebe Garage Sale, and we watched the marathon.
June
I fell in love with a chair, we built and planted our square foot garden, I bought a bike, and we attended the Naked Bike Ride. We experienced an earthquake, took in the Roller Derby and sort of went to the Jazz Festival. We installed a webcam so people on the internet could watch the lovebirds have sex, lay eggs, and hatch. The G8/G20 debacle took place.
July
We went to the Mariposa Folk Festival and camped. I read my Nanowrimo novel, Inside-Out Pork Bellies. The eggs hatched and Lester killed the littlest baby live on webcam while we were at the Janie H Knits knitting sale. Stephen Harper killed the long-form Census and we went to a benefit for Kim, who got injured in a barroom brawl at Irene’s.
August
I brought the baby lovebirds to my house and hand-raised them. The whole month was devoted to baby birds. The only other things we did was celebrate GC’s birthday, visit the museum and fix the front steps, by order of the City.
September
I re-doubled my job-search efforts. We went to the Centretown Artists’ Tour, the West End Artists’ Tour, the Lumiere Festival and Montreal. We saw a play at GCTC, attended a creativity bee and took a tour of CBC.
October
We walked for Run for the Cure, got iPhones and went app-crazy. We attended a bird show and went apple-picking. Mayor Larry and I finally agreed on something, which was that he was a lousy mayor. I had the best birthday ever. I apologized for the rats, got hooked on the Hipstamatic, and Mayor Larry was soundly thumped in the polls.
November
We went to the Vintage Clothing Sale, got Kazoo, and attended TimeRaisers. The Ottawa Police finally got caught. I wrote a novel, started cooking for my birds, Billie and Lester laid five more eggs, we met Little Victor, and GC and I were both felled by Parainfluenza (I thought my doctor said PARROTinfluenza).
December
Billie and Lester’s five new eggs hatched. We considered adopting an African Grey parrot. We celebrated Christmas with a big fat turkey but we told all the birds it was a fish.
Posted by Zoom! on December 31, 2010, at 1:45 pm |
You know what I’m going to do in January? I’m going to walk from Adelaide, Australia to Whyallia, which is 381 kilometers. It’s a virtual walk and I have to average over 15,363 steps per day to accomplish it.
I’ve been walking a lot lately. The scenery has been dull (mostly just busy streets and endless cars), but I’ve managed to transport myself elsewhere by listening to podcasts on my iPhone. I’ve listened to TED Talks, This American Life, Radio Diaries, Lake Wobegone, The Sunday Edition, Definitely Not the Opera, Public Radio International, The Moth, Dan Savage, and much, much more. I’ve listened to fiction, documentaries, world-changing ideas, music, humour, knitting, sex and science.
I’ve listened to a guy who does extreme cold-water swimming, a biologist who specializes in organisms over 2,000 years old, a data journalist who designs new ways of visually conveying numerical data, a middle eastern comedian, a boxer who teaches London’s poor kids how to play football, and the grand-daughter of Willie McGee who was electrocuted in 1951 for allegedly raping a white woman.
It’s endless, really. It’s fascinating. I spend about two hours a day walking and listening, and it’s all free.
I was saying to my friend Donna over breakfast recently that I really like TED Talks because I tend to be a little pessimistic about the state of the world and the direction it’s heading, but the TED Talks remind me that there are brilliant, energetic, young people who are trying very earnestly to fix the world’s problems.
It’s got me wondering though about my priorities. I pour most of my own world-changing energy into poverty-related issues. It’s not because I necessarily consider poverty the biggest or most important problem in the world. It’s because I’ve personally experienced it and I know what it’s like, and I see it as a problem that slowly strangles its victims by consistently denying them opportunity, choice, self-esteem and hope. And poverty is so unnecessary, which means we ought to be able to eliminate it if we put our minds to it. I like to think I’m changing the world one mind at a time.
But is poverty a problem in itself, or is it a symptom of a bigger problem? If it’s a symptom of a bigger problem, maybe I should be focusing my energy on that bigger problem. (And I might just do that, if I could figure out what that bigger problem was.)
On the other hand, maybe I should be focusing my world-changing energy on the world’s biggest and most pressing problem, which would have to be the environment. (I feel kind of ill-equipped for that one though. I care about the planet very much, but the problem and solution seem to require a greater grasp of science than I have.)
Anyway. That’s some of the stuff I’ve been thinking about lately. It’s all still tumbling about in my brain.
Happy New Year, by the way. I think I normally do my year-end wrap-up on the 31st, but this year I’m doing it tomorrow. GC and I are making a time capsule tonight!
Posted by Zoom! on December 27, 2010, at 9:25 am |
 GC and I went out boxing day shopping yesterday afternoon, just to see what it’s like. We went to Carlingwood Mall, but we didn’t buy anything. We couldn’t figure out what all the hoopla was about – the sale prices didn’t seem all that spectacular to us.
Christmas was pleasant and peaceful. I ended up doing a little bit of Christmas decorating after all – I put a Santa hat on a mannequin. My son came over and he and GC and I shared a delicious turkey dinner with all the fixings. The 5-second rule had to be invoked because all the white meat ended up briefly on the kitchen floor. Duncan was delighted.
Tonight we’re having a second Christmas dinner with some of my siblings from out of town. (All of my siblings are from out of town, actually…but some of them are coming for dinner.) It’ll be roast beef with all the fixings.
Update: My siblings are dropping like flies. Bone infections, stomach flus…
Posted by Zoom! on December 25, 2010, at 5:18 pm |
With love and best wishes to all of you from Kazoo, Zoom, GC, Duncan, Logan, Billie, Lester, Piccolo, Banjo, Oboe, Baby 1/5, Baby 2/5, Baby 3/5, Baby 4/5 and the Little Baby Jeebus, who hatched today.
Posted by Zoom! on December 22, 2010, at 9:18 am |
GC and I found ourselves out in Manotick the other night, visiting the mansion of people we’ve never met.
Why? Because they had a talkative two-year-old African Grey parrot for sale, and I wanted it. The ad said she had an excellent vocabulary, loved singing and dancing, and was friendly and lovable. I was smitten from a distance.
So off we went, GC and me, to meet this parrot, in her natural habitat: a massive modern mansion on a huge lot in a new development on the outskirts of Manotick.
We rang the doorbell, and listened as the deep sonorous chimes announced our arrival. After a few moments, the door swung open and we found ourselves in the front hall, right beside the Christmas tree. The presents were all wrapped in the same blue paper, which they told us later they’d bought at Costco three years ago and which seemed to be a never-ending roll of gift wrap.
The front hall overlooked a huge room with cathedral ceilings and floor to ceiling windows, and the parrot was perched on a play stand in the center of this giant room.
We took off our boots and introduced ourselves to the nice young couple who lived there. We all went into the giant room and gathered around the parrot.
“She talks non-stop!” said the woman, “Don’t you Paris?”
The bird stared mutely at us.
“She loves to sing and dance!” said the man, “Don’t you Paris?”
The bird stared motionless at us.
“Her favourite food is sunflower seeds!” said the woman.
I just happened to have a pocketful of sunflower seeds, so I extracted one and held it out to the bird. She bit me, and ignored the seed.
“Did she bite you?” asked the man.
“Yes,” I said, “But it didn’t hurt.”
“That’s funny,” he said. “She never bites.”
“She’ll love you forever if you give her some of her baby formula,” the woman said. We all went into the cavernous kitchen, where she mixed up a batch of formula. She handed me the syringe and I fed the bird a couple of squirts. Then she flew back over to the woman and continued ignoring me.
For the next twenty minutes or so they tried valiantly to get the bird to do something more impressive than biting me. They kept saying all the words and phrases the parrot knows.
“What’s for supper?” asked the man.
“Where’s the bird?” asked the woman.
“You’re hot!” exclaimed the man.
“I love you!” said the woman.
The bird burped.
“Our son taught her to do that,” said the woman apologetically. “But she doesn’t say any swear words.”
They told us that the bird would learn a new word or phrase in less than a day. You just had to say it to her a few times, and she’d pick it up.
The bird, of course, had nothing to say about that.
Finally we all sat down and had a conversation and pretty much ignored the bird.
Mid-conversation, the man stopped and said “Did you hear that?”
“What?” I asked.
“She said ‘I love you’!”
“I missed it,” I said.
I did, however, catch the bird making noises like water dripping.
The thing is, I have no doubt this bird can talk, but African Greys are notorious for not showing off on demand. And in this particular bird’s case, she knew we wanted to take her away from her mansion, where she could fly non-stop for five minutes in any direction, and where she even had an outdoor summer cage by the pool. She knew we wanted to take her to a crowded little house in the city, where she would spend the rest of her life slumming it under the watchful supervision of an opportunistic orange cat.
I do hope she likes her new home, wherever it is.
Posted by Zoom! on December 19, 2010, at 9:10 am |
 Have you been wondering what that cool round thing is they’re building on the edge of the Experimental Farm, near Merivale and Central Park? Me too. So I asked the workers, and they told me it’s going to be a solar-powered pump and irrigation house.
 In other news, I was a little taken aback when I spotted this bag of cookies in the cookie aisle at Loblaws. I’m no expert, but I think this cookie manufacturer needs to rethink its marketing strategy. A little euphemism might go a long way.
In other other news, the first baby lovebird egg hatched yesterday. A breeder gave us two tips to prevent ourselves from falling in love with the babies and keeping them all. 1) Don’t name them, and 2) Call them all “it” rather than ‘he’ or ‘she’. So we’re referring to this one as “One of Five.” It’s a little pink bundle of pure vulnerability. It has no feathers, its eyes are still sealed and it has the tiniest, sweetest little beak you ever saw.
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