Last night astro-Bird tried to swallow great globs of his tuna can bedding. With tweezers, Peter extracted a small tangle of string from his delicate mouth, then we decided to replace his stringy nesting material with toilet paper since we don't really have anything better. He's OK now.
And his wings! They're getting big, big! And they have prickly hairs all along their edges. His skin is getting darker and sort of shiny like parts on a big housefly; this makes me less quick to kiss him these days as he looks even uglier now than he did before. His screeeeeeeing is louder too.
I wanted Wes to take pictures of him being fed for this very web site, but Wes and I weren't around with the camera when Peter decided to feed the great astro-Bird. I asked Peter when the next feeding might be so that we could preserve the moment on our Revco brand film, and he said that the next feeding time didn't matter. That we could feed astro-Bird a "publicity seed" anytime we liked. Something in me says that's sort of shady, plus we just didn't find the time for publicity seeds today, so we didn't do it. I think any of the feeding pictures you see on these pages were real seeds and not publicity ones.
Tonight we had dinner with some of Wes's friends. I told one of them about astro-Bird and our plans for this site, and she said, "You'd better get that site up pretty fast..." She trailed off because she must not have wanted to admit that she thought he was toast. I explained that I would put his whole funeral up on the web if I had to. And I will, too.
Even though he seems to be doing pretty well, I still stop by his home and poke at him while he sleeps just to make sure he's still alive. I hope he will make it through the night again. What is it about the night time that makes me worry about him even more than normal?