Just A Swingin' ! ! !

Poor Conrad!....

That was my original impression of the situation, but he quickly let me know that he had control long before I thought he needed my assistance.

Besides intimidating the crap out of anybody he can, one of his favorite hobbies is to swing on the swing in his cage. I'm not talking about 'patty-cake, Sunday-afternoon-on-the-porch swinging.  This little man swings FEVERISHLY on that thing.  

Considering that he doesn't have legs dangling over the side of the seat so he can 'pump' them to gain more altitude, the fact that can move at all on that thing amazes me.  The fact that he is a Gold medal winning athlete on that thing amazes me.

Any who, several months ago, I noticed that his swing had worked it's way over to the side of his cage, and I *thought* he couldn't get it going again because the large wooden dowel that makes the swing's 'seat' was too close to the side of his cage, and it was stuck against the cage's bars.

Being the Good Samaritan that I am (!!), I reached above the cage to move the swing, and give it a couple inches worth of clearance between the dowel and the cage bars.  What could go wrong?  In the past (when he wasn't on the swing!), I had moved it away from the side of the cage, and this time I helped him out shouldn't have been any different than the previous episode.  Right?  The difference:  THIS time, Conrad was on the swing when I tried to move it back towards the center of his cage.

Without so much as a glance in the direction of the action OR without looking at me, and without giving the situation a second thought - and by sheer instinct - one of his feet shot out from his side at a 90 degree angle.  He grabbed on to the bars of the cage (immediately adjacent to the swing), and held on as if his life depended on it.  I tugged on the swing, thinking that he would release his death grip on the bars, and let me move the swing.  Nope.  Not gonna happen.

Sometimes, I'm a bit slow on the draw, but I do eventually pick up adequate speed.

I decided to leave him to his own devices.

A few hours later, I noticed that the swing was back as it should be - at least a couple inches away from the side of the cage.

The mystery was solved.  At-will, Conrad can move the swing to the sides of the cage (so it can be used as a stable perch, rather than a swing, and while sitting on the perch, he can push himself away from the bars of the cage so he can swing his little birdie heart out.

He also uses the bars as a brake for the swing.  This crazy bird can be swinging 100 MPH, and suddenly reach over and grab the bars of the cage with either his bill or with one of his feet, and stop on a dime!

I know....I know.... tool use by birds (and at least 9 other species of animals) is no scientific break through.  I just like to see it in action!  :)

- Michael

How Would You Like Your Smoke & Mirrors Today?

DISCLAIMER:
In no way would I ever take a stab at anybody that is sincerely worshiping - in whatever religion they choose, and however they choose.  I will, however, occasionally pick up a stick and poke somebody who disrupts a church or any other service, and their sole reason for do so is purely to gain attention, which has nothing to do with worshiping - and nothing to do with religion, as far as that goes.

"RePUKE the DEEEEEE-VVVVV-IIIII-LLLLL !!!!"

Those kitties look EXACTLY like the two 20-year old cats we had until 3 years ago (they both died within a month of each other).

Further proof that you only THOUGHT you had Chiari malformation. Actually, your diagnosis is much easier than that.

You simply had an old war would from having your head snapped back like a damned PEZ dispenser for so many years!

Now, I am going to be forced to put on my hand-made wooden clogs from The Netherlands and re-enact a V.D. original.

I'll never forget that volatile, half-cocked, but fully crazed woman.

We always knew when a fit was brewing (an unsuspecting visitor walked into the church and sat on the back pew.)

Then....oh, then..... when the moment was 'right' for her, we would always hear that low bass-filled suction "Swoosh" as her butt left the pew - ready to begin the 'First Act'. That sound is all-too familiar, and it reminds me of the sound you hear when you are watching a fireworks show, and a large shell has just left the barge, but not yet exploded.

Phase II begins when the first clod-hopper heel hit that hollow wooden floor with a familiar, loud, "POP!" (like the large fireworks shell's explosion after it reaches the apex of it's flight into the Heavens.)

The stage is set for the Main Act: In a flurry, the heels predictably explode into a rapid succession of fire-cracker pops, and the entire carcass gets into the act:

The head starts going from side to side - in a dramatic attempt to shake down the intentionally loosely styled hair, arm and hands are twisting over her head, as if she is frantically 'dialing Tokyo' on a giant, imaginary radio just out of reach over her head, and her boobs take on an independent life of their own, eventually picking up the pace to be magically synchronized with the large, voluptuous pounding hips!

To quote "Shelangela" from RuPaul's Drag Race (on the LOGO channel),

"HALL-LAY-LOO!"

But.....I have news for ole V.D. When I put these things on, she won't have shit on me! he he

- Michael