I think I now know how Tippy Hedron felt in Hitchcock’s The Birds.

Astro the Evil Sun Conyer still doesn’t like me. He’s very gentle when I feed him peanuts, and he’ll allow me into his cage to clean and freshen his food and water dishes. But he still wants to pluck out my eyes rather than sit on my finger. Unless, that is, I just happen to want to walk past his cage.

We generally leave the cage door open during the day so that he can sit on top if he wants, so he’s in and out quite a bit. Apparently, he uses the time to plot his next move.

Since BJ has been down sick for a few days, the bird has, I suppose, been feeling a little neglected. I’m really not all that eager to spill more blood, so I’m not about to try “step up” at this point. I did, however, walk past him day before yesterday, and that’s when it happened.

I should probably tell you that Astro’s cage is in the bathroom. Now before you freak out, think about it: he gets company off and on all day; it’s a relatively warm and draft-free room, and when we go out, we can close the door to keep birds and dogs from, well, getting to know each other a little too much. It’s also an easy room in which to contain and clean up the mess he creates.

So there I was, picking up the towels to take downstairs to the laundry, and the bird flew from the top of his cage, hooking his pointy little toenails directly into the middle of my back.

“BJ! Come and get your bird!”
“Why? Where is he?”
“Look!!!”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake! I thought he landed in the toilet.”

His aim is getting better. Just now, he landed squarely on top of my head. The “library” has certainly become a more interesting read.