Two exciting things happened yesterday: first, the Finsters finally moved back into the Finsterium.
Despite the fact that I now have a good view of the cage (and Jean-Luc isn't lurking behind it), this isn't the best photograph; the plastic film taped to the back of the cage is reflecting badly (still, the versions without the flash were worse), the camera batteries died, and then a big thunderstorm came in before I had a chance to try for more. Another time.

Since we took the cage completely apart for the move, we had the chance to do some minor repairs and give it a good cleaning. No real reason it took us just over a month to move the Finsters in, though. I blame pure laziness, the insanity inherent in moving, and — well — pure laziness. Lucky for the Finsters, guilt finally kicked in.

As usual, I lined the hospital cage door up with the door to the Finsterium, and waited for the birds to leave the cramped, waterless and foodless wasteland for the wide-open Garden of Eden that is the Big House. As usual, I had to wait awhile for the birds to move. Cinnamon was first, after half an hour of thinking. Once in, he made some lovely, happy finch sounds as he flew around to check out all the accoutrements: nest boxes! space to fly! tasty seeds! floor snacks! nice shells! Although the different species of finches likely make slightly different noises, these happy finch sounds always remind me of the sound that R2-D2 makes in Star Wars: A New Hope, when C-3P0 leaves him on Tatooine to deal with the message from Leia on his own. Except that R2-D2's whistles seem sad, while a Finster's chirp is definitely joyful.

After checking everything out, Cinnamon proceeded to be King of the Seed Tower, and tried his hardest to entice Ginger out of the hospital cage with his Hunka Hunka Burning Love song and various other whistles and chirps. It took him a little over 20 minutes, and then it took about an hour and a half for the two birds to take a bath.

And this is where I remembered the main reason why we had the Finsterium in the kitchen in the old apartment — not because it fit better there, or looked better, or was part of the fung shui of the whole thing. No. The reason was the linoleum. The water-resistant linoleum.

Now, the apartment had carpet everywhere except the kitchen and the bathroom, so putting the Finsterium in the kitchen was the obvious choice (the bathroom was too small). But the new place has wood floors everywhere. So far, I've dealt with the water problem by putting plastic computer mats in appropriate places, and wiping up the water splashes when they arrive. This is easier with Harley, because he only takes baths in his water dish about once a month. The Finsters, on the other hand, are happy-go-lucky, bath-taking fiends. I've taped clear plastic to the back of the cage, but short of putting computer mats over most of the den (so attractive!), I'm not sure what to do. So far I've tried simply not giving them much water to bathe in. But that's a little mean. Also, it doesn't work. You'd be surprised how much water can get splashed out of a 3 1/2 inch (mostly) square dish (picture pops) — and just how far that water will go! Well, I'll figure it out. Probably around the same time I learn to deal with cleaning more than one bathroom. Right. Probably never.

Harley was very interested in the whole moving-in process. While he wasn't too keen on going inside the Finsterium, he personally inspected most of the nest boxes, and watched us carefully the whole time.

But having his pets back in their big cage wasn't the most exciting part of Harley's Sunday. Instead, he warmed this English Major's heart by regaling us with a perfect use of language!

As I've mentioned, he knows how to say — in context — "are you ready for bed?" and "are you hungry?" Although, admittedly, that last one is often truncated to "ya hung?" Sometimes, Harley uses the phrase "are you ready for bed" to indicate that he is ready for something else, like joining us on the couch, or going upstairs to play on the bed. (He uses the phrase "here Harley" more specifically when he wants something to eat.)

Last night he was very excited about having dinner, partly because it was Macaroni And Cheese Night, and partly because Bruce was grilling on the patio and we had Harley closed in his cage so he wouldn't be tempted to fly out after him. (Yeah, that's a good story.) The more time went on, the more vocal Harley became about being READY TO GO. Until finally, he came out with the most appropriate combination:

"Are you ready for hung?"

You bet!