Yesterday morning I dreamed that Sleek came back – with a mate. They were at the side of the aviary, a place where Sleek never used to go, and it was as if he was just visiting to show her off, not wanting to come in or anything. Who knows what this means. Maybe just wishful thinking – or maybe Sleek really does have a mate now.
But that’s not why I hate nature.
It’s the flipping squirrel-mouse again. He just killed Hinkapink. It happened in a gap of about five minutes when I was in-between getting Tseep inside and going back outside to fetch the canaries. Okay, so it’s also Johann’s fault, because he was telling me something and even though I kept trying to walk away, he ignored that and went on talking. So I waited just a few extra seconds, not wanting to be rude, and in that time we lost yet another bird. I probably shouldn’t be writing this right now because all I want to do is curse. It’s all so sordid and pointless sometimes.
There were two canaries inside the cage and two on top. I was keeping a close eye on them, and because it had just got dark enough, I was busy bringing them inside. When I went back outside after Tseep, there was only one canary on top. I shone my torch around the aviary, knowing already… and there was the little body, with its head torn off, just like Jack’s. The %$#&*\ rodent murderer. What is this idiotic charade people so reverently refer to as “Mother Nature”?
We haven’t even had a chance to get the nighttime avairy ready. We have all the materials now, just lying around waiting until we might get that precious little gap of time.
This game is for the birds. I’m not sure how much longer I can do all this, really. And I know it’s not just me. I’ve heard of people who just give up their aviaries because of exactly this kind of thing. Yesterday a huge snake was slithering around at the back of the aviary too, but Scruffy alerted me to its presence and I stamped my feet and it went away. it was probably too big to get inside anyway.
Just two days ago we carefully took the bandage off Hinky’s tiny little leg, and I was so pleased at how it had healed. It was still slightly crooked, but he was pretty much just like any other bird. And he and Runty had started to change colour, with patches of bright orange coming through the pale yellow baby feathers.
I’ve buried him already. I apologised to the bird’s spirit for burying the body so quickly, but right now I just want to be shot of this crap.
