Whirley Byrd

OK.

So, I made a batch of my famous Oatmeal Cookies. I used a half lb of my best Canna Butter, all fresh ingredients, nuts, a few raisins ... Two would get ya there, three was some altitude and a good nites sleep.

I had to freeze a dozen cause I knew that they'd go bad ...

I left a dozen on a plate on top of the counter - you know, in case wifey and I got the munchies.

I have a cockateil. His name is Whirley Byrd. He is thirty years old. (which is old). We been together since we was both hatchlings. He used to study with me when I was in college. He talks, and his favorite show is Jeopardy (he knows the theme song and whistles along when it comes on).

Any way ... he got his name because no matter HOW much I clipped his wings he would fly. He locks up his feet and starts flapping as hard as he can, then dumps the clutch and LAUNCHES. No control, but by gawd, " I am BIRD and you can't stop me from flying."

Long story short (or is it too late). While I was working at the computer, he whirled over to the kitchen counter and ... you guessed it ... munched on one of my cookies. He got thru about a fourth of a cookie. (Did not like the raisins) When I saw him he had both wings extended so that the tips were touching the counter, when he retracted them he fell over. He had a real tough time keeping his head up. This bird is HAMMERED.

Whirley was flying like he'd never soared before. He kept looking at me with eyes half open and nodding, and almost falling over when he'd forget and fold one wing.

It was funny as hell. I put him in a box so he wouldn't hurt himself falling off a perch. He slept it off. Next morning he sang for about an hour. I think he had a good time.