Friday, February 17, 2006
Frankie say relax!
I have never understood when people complained about waking to bird song. I love the sound of birds. Okay, not the sound of a hundred starlings on the lawn pecking for bugs and things (in fact, that scares me a bit). A few starlings on the lawn are cute and interesting. A hundred starlings on the lawn are freaky and wrong. A side story. When we were kids, my sister and I were watching Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" on tv. It was one of those week-end creature features. My brother and his friends thought it would be really funny to put gloves on sticks and hit the basement windows. Did I mention that all four of us kids were pansies when it came to scary movies? Picture four little kids on a couch in the dark, clinging to each other in mortal fear while watching movies like Jaws, Alligator, and of course...The Birds. So there they are, hitting the windows with gloves on sticks. Right at the part when the birds start coming in through the chimney, and here we are sitting next to a FIRE PLACE. I don't think I had ever been so close to wetting my pants in my life! We were so scared that we moved a chair in front of the hearth and ran to put the chain on the door. Because, you know, birds always use the door and were magically afraid of chains. Sheesh, we were dorks ROFL. Anyway. My brother and his friends got tired of their game, and tried to come in (probably to play asteroids on the Atari *snork*). The door opened part way, then hit the chain "SHUNK!". Sister and I were standing in the hallway, watching the door thump open against the chain, in pure and utter terror. My brother, in his infinite wisdom, slid his gloved hand inside to try and take the chain off. Our terrified little brains saw this black fluttery thing, and screamed THE BIRDS ARE GETTING IN! Sister acted quickly. She ran and slammed that door on that bird as hard as she could. And when the door did not close (after all, there was a HAND IN IT) she slammed it again. And again. And again! That bird was not getting into our house for sure! My brother was not happy. Suffice it to say, his hand and the door were broken pretty good (and so were we, as soon as his hand got better enough). Side story done. A couple of years ago I fell in love with a canary at a local store. Peach coloured, and it seemed he would call after me when I walked away. My DH and DD purchased the bird for me as a present, since they know I loved him so much. He has been a constant delight! He sings...well...like a bird. And he has so much personality, way more than I expected. He isn't "tame" meaning I can stand next to the cage and he is fine, but if I put my hand in there to clean he freaks out. You see, he still isn't sure that we aren't going to eat him ;). But he eats and sleeps and sings with abondon even if we are right there. And what I like the best, is when I sing, HE sings! My singing is not exactly American Idol material. From the time DD could speak, when I tried to sing a lullaby she would put her hand over my mouth and say "No sing, mumma". I can make the cats hide, and Ruby gets all nervous. She wants to run and hide, but since she usually runs and hides behind my legs it causes a bit of a paradox for her. And a pug in a paradox is nervous looking indeed. On a good day you almost expect her eyeballs to drop right out, never mind when she is feeling paradoxical. For reference, please refer to the closeup photo. LOOK at that eyeball. See what I mean? But Frankie? Frankie likes my singing just fine. He trills right along as I belt out songs from Annie. Or Peter Paul and Mary. Or the Wizard of Oz. Never mind he also sings to running water and crinkling plastic, he loves me dammit! He is quiet as a mouse until he hears movement or talking from upstairs. Then he unleashes his song. I love lazy Sunday mornings - listening to the joyous singing coming from downstairs, DD reading to her stuffed toy, the gentle puggy snore, Dh's deep breathing (read snoring and snorking, which he says he does not do so we will humour him and call it deep breathing). It is just a few moments when time stands still, and makes every moment of the rest of the week worthwhile (see previous posts LOL). It doesn't take much, and the spell is broken. DD is hungry, the dog needs out, the cats want fed, and even Frankie starts flinging his seed hulls to let me know he needs a refill. And here he is, beloved Frankie. So named because he is a crooner. He has a dirty beak from eating his greens, and the pic is a bit grainy. But isn't he darling?