Today is Dino (the dinosaur)’s third birthday.
Our little rosy-faced lovebird has been with us for three years, and has been pretty much a constant companion since the early days of the pandemic.
She is my best mate, but at the same time, the bane of my life. She demands ceaseless attention, unless she’s laid a few eggs or found herself some paper.
If she has laid, as she did to mark her third birthday, she tends to sit on the eggs in a corner of her cage.
If she’s about to lay, the preceding couple of weeks are nearly constantly filled with picking up after her as she will rip into shreds any paper she can get her beak on, stuff the strips under her wings and then promptly drop everything as she rushes back to form a nest, failing to notice that she has frequently failed to carry anything with her.
Still, Dino has brought great love to our home. Albeit if that sometimes involves taking a poop on us and literally biting the hand that feeds her.
When she’s not tearing strips into things or warming her eggs or stealing food of biting and snapping, she can actually be warm and loving.
She flies free and a highlight of our day is standing at the lounge room window to greet all her mates in the garden.
Have a happy birthday and thanks for bringing so much joy! But much more cuteness even when you’re being pterrible. Just don’t bring the psittacosis!
