Today, I think it's Saturday, I broke away from holiday leftovers and decided on the shrimp. Also found a frozen container of cooked rice and black beans. Cool. A couple of spoonsful of red chili oil livened up the rice
I cooked the shrimp in butter and olive oil, while I heated the rice separately. Then removed the salad shrimp and added rice to what was still in the pan.
The sprinkling of curry leaves suggests a stitch design, bonus. This is about a third of the rice and shrimp, one third for another dish like this tomorrow, and the rest of the shrimp set aside for a shrimp salad once I make some mayo.
This morning I realized that when I ran the car yesterday, I seem to have knocked the wipers into action, then switched off the engine. Last time I did a thing like this, I left the engine in drive and switched off. It drained the battery completely. So I hoped this didn't apply to wipers and went out nervously to check.
Two guys coming out of Gary's house with some huge piece of furniture wanted to let me by and I said no, no, figuring they'd got it balanced, it was heavy, they should keep the momentum.
One said, wait, that's an Irish voice! Nope, English. But my grandmother was Irish. Whereupon he went off into praise of the UK, especially London and most especially Petticoat Lane. Lovely chat, nice guy, checked if I wanted to leave he'd move the van, no, no, all good. Then we all wished each other a happy New Year and they left.
Then finally I got in the car and no problem, it leapt into life. Tire pressure low because of cold snap, Gary, who also thought I was blocked, promised to inflate them. So that was in the end a happy start in both senses.
I sorted the colors for the GS -- granny square, and decided this warm grey would be a good divider between sections, and I'll join all the various little squares with it, to unify the piece.
Like this.
About birds!
I had a series of birds, all rescues, from situations ranging from abusive to fairly neglectful. I didn't take parrots because they're too noisy for condo living. It drives the neighbors mad when they do their dawn and dusk flock calling. Screams, really.
But parakeets and my dear Emily the lutino cockatiel were resident chez Boud.
Often people buy pairs of parakeets as presents, terrible idea, unless someone really wants them, so I ended up accepting them through various means, to give them a good home.
Now, parakeets in pet stores are often represented as young birds, when in fact very often they're old failed breeders. The females have not developed ovulation, probably from over breeding the line, and males are sterile, similar reason, or unable to mount the female. Many reasons for these situations, but careless breeding may be a big one.
So when I had them at home, no concerns about accidental reproduction, I only caged them at night for safety, and they flew about freely otherwise. Unless I had guests who were afraid of them, and it's surprising how many people are.
So when green Harriet, the self appointed flock leader, such an intelligent bird, egged, I figured they were sterile eggs. She was the widow of Peter, hence the name, never egged before.
Until she and Opal, her beautiful turquoise and cobalt young boytoy, evidently not a failed breeder at all, produced a clutch of babies which Harriet cared for and kept jealous Opal away from. I handfed her while she was caring for them until they fledged and joined the flock, now up to nine.
They were jewel-like babies, easy to find trustworthy homes for. So I was back to three pairs. I thought I'd kept Harriet and Opal apart but bird mating can happen in seconds, even when one bird is free, one caged. It looks like a couple of little pushes, very pragmatic.
And so they had another clutch, and I found homes for them, too, with friends who owned a pet supply store and were very picky about who took their birds.
Harriet was an artist, too, always ready to improve my work. Here's a detail of a large handmade paper piece I'd created as a final in my paper making course
See all the bits pecked off the top edge? Harriet, her work.
Then Harriet died, she was maybe eight or nine, birds with poor beginnings don't usually live a normal lifetime.
Poor Opal moped about his lost partner, but was soon very active on his perch. Innocent visitors would ask if he was okay, what was he doing so intently. Then wished they hadn't asked!
And there was Emily the lutino cockatiel, this is not her but you get the idea
I found Emily in blazing sun, July, no water, caged at a garage sale. I asked the owners about her, found she was three years old, caged all that time, in a back bedroom, no toys, fed cheap wild bird food, and never made a sound.
I was so angry I said she's coming with me, offered them $20 for her, cage, any toys. They had no food nor toys for her, but after I made noises about reporting, looking at their other -- cared for -- animals, they accepted my offer. They must have been scared, because they could easily have got $50 for the cage alone.
I made them give me a sheet to throw over the cage to protect her from the sun in the car, and water for her bowl. Then I left full of determination to give her a real life.
On the way home I talked quietly to her -- birds tend to respond to women's voices -- and after a few minutes I heard that little conversational sound cockatiels make, sounds like "how're you?" So we talked all the way home. She knew.
I had to devise ways to teach her to fly, because her wings were weak from caging, and as she strengthened, she eventually bravely tried a flight off my hand, bit by bit, eventually making it across the room in one try.
She would eat literally anything I offered, though lutinos can be very cautious. She trusted that I could deliver a decent seed, fruit and veggie menu.
And she and kitty Boud, from whom I took my screen name, were friends. Emily would nibble Boud's nose gently, both on the floor, while Boud purred. For a bird to even be on the floor is a great trust action. Birds fly upward for safety at any threat. But Boud was no threat to her friend.
I had two other cats at that time, Annabelle, found in a dumpster and living like a queen now, and Vico, Boud's sister and twice her size.
Annabelle took charge of notifying me of lost or stuck birds. Because they were out flying freely, there were times a bird vanished. If a bird's in trouble,they go totally silent and still. Which doesn't help you find them.
Annabelle used to come get me and indicate there's someone stuck. One time I had to turn over a sofabed and found Mary, I think it was, widow of William, jammed into the spring underneath. She was fine once rescued, if a bit dishevelled. Annabelle earned her keep(!) as a Feline Birdkeeper.
Emily the cockatiel egged a lot once she was properly fed, and of course the eggs, in the absence of a male, were infertile. A visitor once said, but you could hatch all these eggs and sell the baby birds easily.
I explained that a solo female can't generate fertilized eggs so no hatching, no birds. She insisted that every egg always had a baby bird to hatch, because you couldn't have eggs that didn't.
When I explained the process of fertilizing, and how it needed a male, she got a bit flustered. Especially when I pointed out that she and I could also ovulate without resulting in pregnancy. That finished her off, so uncouth to compare birds to humans. She concluded "You don't know much about birds!"
I saved Emily's final clutch, painted them, and they're part of my Easter display, here in a miniature teacup
Another time a friend and I were in the living room watching a couple of finches on a branch near the window, mating up a storm. I mentioned it was mating season, and she, evidently unaware of the show she was getting, said she'd seen birds touching beaks, was that how they mated. Well, just look. She was a library director, with Ph.D. Not in biology, I guess.
I think the birds are smarter than certain bird brained humans!
Happy day, everyone, keep warm, cool, dry whatever applies, rayez ce qui est inutile, and carry on.
