Our condominium association was very slow to give us approval to replace the carpenter bee snacks wooden deck, so we really expected our Wee Deck Men to put the project off until the Spring. But I guess everyone needs a little extra cash these days, so Terry and Jim came by yesterday and today to build us a new one out of composite materials.

We thought Harley would be out of sorts from all the commotion, but he couldn't get enough. He practically flew out the sliding glass door to help, and spent most of yesterday morning overseeing the work watching.

Too bad it's too cold to go outside and use it.

Oh, and remind me to start taking more photos with the real camera.

Well, look at what I found hiding in the blog software? An entry I'd meant to publish on November 18th! Go figure! I blame Michigan Winters, I suppose. We still don't have new faucets, but since we got the new water tank (bigger than the last one) Harley seems fairly content to sit quietly on the counter — aerators ignored — enjoying the steam that collects in the bathroom while the humans shower. You know, so far.

Harley successfully removed the aerator screen from one of the bathroom sinks the other day. He squished it and squished it in his beak for awhile, me telling him to drop it the whole time. When he finally let me take it it was no longer a round bit of screen, it was a nice little lump.

Best game ever.

Here he is, pretending to "just drink the water."

In reality, the only reason he hasn't ripped the screen out of this second bathroom sink is because we've learned to leave the water running while he's playing on the counter. This has slowed him down a little bit.

After a brief foray into "chipping off the mineral deposits that have collected on two 15-year-old aerators" (we slowed this game down by soaking them in vinegar), his new trick is to unscrew the aerator itself. Yes, really. He totally understands the concept of "righty tighty, lefty loosey." I am not making this up. So every few days we have to re-tighten them. For a little while we simply removed the aerator assembly completely, but we soon discovered that this is a bad idea.

With all that water shooting willy-nilly, we started getting leaks under the sinks. Not fun.

So we've started shopping for bird-proof faucets. We're not sure they exist, apart from these incredibly ugly ones. (I mean, really. Talk about ugly.)

There are also some pretty cool models, many of which are made of glass, cost a thousand dollars, and seem either to be made for sink bowls or to be mounted on the wall. While we've talked about redecorating the bathroom (getting rid of the pink is on the list), the friendly people at the home improvement stores look at us funny when we explain we're looking for bird-proof faucets. I dunno, should we pretend Harley is a 90-pound dog? Besides, two thousand dollars (for two sinks) would buy an awful lot of bourbon. And really, we're waaaaay too lazy to redecorate a whole, entire room. No matter how small.

Instead, we've been trying to distract Harley with bath toys.

Sometimes it even works. That is, if you can count pushing the tub of water off the counter as "playing with bath toys." Harley thinks you can.

As it turns out, the furnace just needed a bit of cleaning. The water tank, unfortunately, needed replacing. Here's a photo of the old one leaving, taken from the balcony — Harley and I stayed upstairs in the bedroom during all the commotion (I left Harley in there while I popped out for the picture).

By now all four of my readers know that I'm a lazy slug, and lately — what with the grey days of Michigan Winters and all — I've been even less likely to update The Finster Log, despite all the photos I've been taking of Mr. Adorable. Unfortunately, it has taken just about this long — three weeks or so since Thanksgiving — for Harley to get back to being comfortable about going to bed after being so terribly startled in the middle of the night I mentioned so long ago.

Are all kids this fussy?

He hasn't slept up in our bedroom since that one night, but I've had to force him off onto the perch on his door a few times. His next trick was to step onto his Sleepy Perch, but then climb right off it once I turned my back. I'd hang around for a few minutes, encouraging him to climb back to the Sleepy Perch, but I wouldn't always wait for him to get there. Mean witch that I am. One morning I found him waiting for me on a different perch entirely, but I'm not sure if he climbed down in the middle of the night, or just as I came downstairs in the morning. Such a fuss! Poor bird.

Anyway, you'll be happy to know that two out of the past three nights Harley has stepped onto his Sleepy Perch and stayed there. So hopefully we're all pretty much back to normal sleeping patterns. Finally. Fingers crossed.

Thanksgiving day was nice and relaxing, the food turned out very well (I'm posting a fabulous recipe for sweet potatoes after the break), the company was good, there are lots of leftovers in the fridge, and we have quite a bit to be thankful for (including some leftover sweet potatoes).

But, things haven't been perfect.

It started last Friday, November 20, when we took Harley to get his toenails trimmed. Being the lazy slug that I am, we don't do this often enough. So on top of the stress of the car ride (which Harley handles pretty well), being grabbed by strangers, attacked with a power rotary tool, and stuffed back into his travel cage (which he doesn't handle very well), Harley is dealing with a big change in the length of his nails. While he's much less likely to inadvertently scratch us, he's also less capable of gripping on to things. A few days of moping and testing out his abilities usually gets him adjusted pretty well. But this time around hasn't been so easy.

Saturday, November 21 I had a little jewelry sale, and being the lazy slug that I am, I left my Box O' Stuff in the bird room. That night/morning, Bruce got up at about 4 a.m. to make sure the heat was on, tripped on the box, knocked some things over, and scared Harley right off his Sleepy Perch and into his cage wall. After some frantic flapping, Bruce managed to get Harley untangled, calmed down, and settled — onto his perch at the window of our bedroom. We all dozed there until it was time to get up for the day.

Harley refused to eat breakfast in his usual spot on the top of his cage Sunday morning, but although he seemed a little reluctant to be in or on the cage for the rest of the day, he went inside easily enough when we went out to run some errands, so we didn't think anything of it. However, that night, he absolutely refused to go into his cage for bed.

Under normal circumstances I would have forced him in, left him clinging to the side of the cage, and crept guiltily upstairs. Bedtime is bedtime, after all. But I knew he'd been badly scared the night before, so we went back upstairs for "five more minutes." When I tried again, he still Absolutely Refused to go inside the cage. So I caved in, brought him back upstairs, gave him more scritches so he'd fall back asleep, and finally, close to 1 a.m., we let him sleep on his perch on the headboard. About an hour later he got startled off the perch, over the bed, and onto the floor. But he settled back onto the perch, and we all slept the rest of the night through.

Monday night, I think because we were all so tired, Harley went onto his Sleepy Perch, and we all slept normally. But Tuesday night I had to force him into his cage, and I guiltily crept upstairs and left him clinging to the side. Wednesday took a little less force, but still with the guilt and the clinging. None of this has been made easier by Bruce's nocturnal habits, which of late have included getting up in the middle of the night to check on the temperature, throwing parties for the Underpants Gnomes, and even odder things he won't tell me about. He hasn't startled Harley out of bed again, but he's woken me up (and possibly Harley) most nights, and truth is, we've probably all been sleeping a little rough because it really is colder than normal in the house.

We replaced the thermostat today, but since the heat still won't go above 68 F (in fact, independent thermometers say it's between 63 and 65), we're now waiting for Monday, when a Wee Man is scheduled to come look at the furnace. If we remain above 60 F we're fine, plus we have some space heaters. But I suppose Harley will use the cool nights, with Bruce checking on the heat every few hours, as an excuse to sleep upstairs with Mom and Dad.

Here he is today, just a little puffed up for warmth.

Isn't he adorable!

Surprisingly, Harley wasn't interested in joining us at the table for our Thanksgiving meal. I'm guessing he was too tired, and a little out of sorts. Just as well, since he couldn't have shared the sweet potatoes anyway. I'm including the recipe for this dish after the break, because they are definitely The Best sweet potatoes I've ever had. For adult humans only.
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Harley — as you know — loves his snacks. I usually hide his snacks so he has to do a little work for his dessert, but Bruce usually hands them to Harley on demand. Lately, though, Harley has also made another demand: loves.

That is, he turns his head in a coquettish manner, asking to get scritches. You know. With his snack.

Best. Scritches. Ever.






Eventually, of course — and usually quite suddenly — Harley is READY FOR THE SNACK.

The Phoenix Landing Blog recently posted an article about using food items in toys to spice up foraging opportunities. They suggested using ice cream cones and rice cakes to add to the shredding appeal. Check out the post for more details and some fun photos.

I'm not so sure about ice cream cones — I haven't had one of those around the house in ages, but I remember them being sweet. However, rice cakes appealed to me right away. Phoenix Landing suggested using a rice cake as a lid for a plastic tub from applesauce. I didn't have any of those around, either, plus I know Harley loves to chew up paper. And while I didn't have a bird-friendly paper cup handy, I did have one of those molded paper packaging pieces:

I cut about a third of the paper packaging, put some dehydrated squash and a couple of snacks inside, strung it on a skewer with the rice cake on top, and hung it on Harley's tree. He was a little wary at first, but he could see there were things inside:

and he quickly realized that rice cakes are pretty fun to chew up:

He's a little shy of the camera when he's playing with toys so I don't have too many more pictures, but he really enjoyed it. He managed to get almost all the snacks out of the packaging, plus he chewed away about one quarter of the packing itself. Rice cakes being what they are, most of it ended up in crumbs on the floor, including one chunk that was almost half of the cake. But the toy was a big hit: several textures to chew, two big things to destroy, plus snacks to find. He was all over it — literally! He's usually very delicate when it comes to toys, but with this one, he held onto it with one foot to steady it while he was destroying it, got at it from both sides, all of it.

Fun!

Scientific minds the world over have long pondered the question: Which is more appealing to the average completely-spoiled Timneh African Grey parrot: macaroni and cheese, or corn on the cob? Harley loves both food items, but until last night, we'd never presented him with both at the same time.

The first winner was the macaroni and cheese! This isn't the best food for a bird, but I get a pretty healthy version: organic, low-sodium, etc. Harley ate the mac and cheese, eyes pinning the whole time, until he nearly popped. He had to climb onto the back of my chair and digest for a few minutes after his little eating frenzy.

But a little later, the second winner was the corn on the cob! Apparently, there's nothing better than really digging into a corn cob, with bits of kernel squishing and squirting out between your beak. Tasty and a good toy! Harley had to climb onto the back of my chair and digest for a few minutes after his little eating frenzy.

So the final verdict: they're both winners, but macaroni and cheese is #1!

Last weekend I was away from home for — I think — the fifth time since we got Harley, to gather with almost all of my immediate family to celebrate my mother's 80th birthday. I've left this photo deliberately small to protect the innocent.

[Two notes: 1) Pictures of the two missing grandchildren will be Photoshopped onto those computer screens. Oddly enough, we did nothing about the two missing Significant Others. 2) Why yes, I'm afraid this is one of the best group photos. Sigh.]

You remember our nightly routine, right? Bruce, Harley and I all go up to the bedroom to watch TV in the evening, humans on their respective sides of the bed, Harley in the middle, and the bird gets scritches until he falls asleep (adorable picture pops). We wake him up a little so he can climb onto Bruce's chest, where he dozes for a few more minutes. Then I wake him up just enough to take him downstairs again, and he sleeps in his cage. It's taken awhile to get to this point, mind you. A little over a year ago I was regularly leaving Harley clinging to the side of the cage while I crept upstairs in the dark — and you can't imagine the unhappiness on Harley's part, and the guilt on my part, when Bruce was out of town. No doubt we could correlate tornadoes over Kansas with some of Bruce's trips out of town, if only we had the patience to do the research. But while Harley still has his occasional fussy nights, we do have a routine now, and it's usually pretty easy.

Well, apparently Harley was really upset that I wasn't home this past weekend. He wouldn't stop moping around on my side of the bed, calling out for me, or fussing, and he refused to go to his cage for bed. Refused. Re. Fused. REFUSED. After several tries, Bruce finally moved the perch usually reserved for the window onto the headboard, and let Harley sleep there.

It turns out that when Harley goes to bed about three or four hours later than normal, he talks in his sleep. Who knew!?! (Bruce couldn't make out any recognizable words, but I'm pretty sure Harley has started practicing "kill all humans." I'll let you know.)

The next two nights, with me still away, were the same. Bruce started letting Harley settle onto the perch on the headboard earlier, though, so he started sleeping a little more soundly, and didn't talk in his sleep so much. Bruce and I discussed the possibility of putting a more permanent sleep option up in our bedroom for future trips — it was that hard. But we decided to wait and see how the next few days went.

As it turned out, Harley was fine with the normal routine on Sunday night. We all went up to the bedroom, Harley fell asleep to scritches, he climbed up onto Bruce's chest for awhile, I woke him up and took him downstairs, and he climbed right up onto his sleepy perch. To sleep. No clinging to the side of the cage, no "kill kill kill" mumbled under his breath, and no guilt on my part.

Still, we weren't out of the woods yet: Bruce left Monday afternoon for two nights away from home.

Surprisingly, all was fine. Sure, Harley spent a little time moping on Bruce's side of the bed, looking for him. But he settled down soon enough for scritches, he fell asleep, I woke him up to take him downstairs to his cage, and he stepped up onto his perch to settle down for the night. No muss, no fuss, and the world didn't end. So, I don't know what Bruce's problem was! Oh, wait — yes I do: Bruce is much weaker than I am, and he just wasn't prepared to leave Harley clinging to the side of the cage. Assuming, of course, he was able to scrape him off his hand in the first place.

Here's Harley playing with the new toy Bruce brought back for him, because, don't you know, Dad always has to bring back a toy!

In the "Can't Let Bruce Go Anywhere By Himself" category, Harley got a pet fish today. So far, his name is Finster, although Harley may decide to change that.

He (she?) is a Betta fish, or Siamese fighting fish. So far, Harley seems to like the tiny tank more than the fish, but that could change, too.

So far, the best part is the refreshing beverage.

Don't worry, the Fish Finster won't live on Harley's bar!

Thanks to our CSA share at Needle-Lane Farms, we've been eating tomatillo salsa on rolled tacos for a few days. Yum! Unfortunately, this evening we realized we were out of cheese. Well, you can't have that. We spent a few minutes trying to decide who should drive out to Trader Joe's, but finally figured out it was Harley's turn.

Well, Bruce drove and I went into the store. But Harley had a good time.





Don't worry, he was in his backpack during the drives, and that was belted in for safety.