Thoughts on insanity and gratitude

I've heard insanity described as, " doing the same thing and expecting different results." If that's true I guess I'm insane, at least when it comes to Odie.

Richard and I are attending a bird training workshop this weekend and while I was cleaning Odie's cage and getting his food ready I started to wonder if he was still a biter when it came to me. He has calmed down a lot and seems quite friendly and content most of the time. He is more gentle with Richard than he was and I hoped that he might have given up the desire for human-finger protein.

I talked to him as I usually do when his is out on his gym. He lets me get quite close to him and often blinks his eyes and puffs up and preens. Today he came over to the corner of his gym and dipped his head, his typical motion when he wants a head scratch. Richard has a hand signal he uses with Odie to show his willingness to scratch. I did the hand signal and Odie again dipped his head.

I figured I had to put this relationship to the test at some point so I took a deep breath to make sure I was steady and then reached out to gently scratch the top of his head. I got one scratch in and then he nailed me - hard - so hard that when I took my hand away, or tried to, I lifted him up by his beak.

When a bird bites you're supposed to push towards him which surprises him and makes him let go. Good theory if you can remember to do it. Since Odie was firmly attached I put my other hand underneath him and put him rather unceremoniously into his cage and closed the door.

I guess there's no doubt about who the nut case is in this scenario. I hope there will be something new this weekend or, at least, a new slant on the information we already have so that I can begin to work with Odie. We're great friends as long as the cage bars separate us but I would like to be able to handle Odie safely and give him the attention that he so loves. It would be much better for all of us. How do I convey that to the little green dragon with the lightning-fast beak?

I had Odie out of his cage before Richard came home because we had theatre tickets tonight and we wanted to be there early to pick them up at the box office. The play True Love Lies was very engaging and quite witty.

As we were walking out at the end a young man caught my eye and said, "Hi, I'm so glad to see you here." I looked over my shoulder thinking he must be talking to someone else. When I turned back, he was still looking at me. "You taught me drama," he said. "I remember all your classes and now I'm a drama teacher too." I asked him his name. I did remember his name but couldn't bring to mind where I had taught him. I think we exchanged a few more words and I hope I thanked him for stopping to speak to me. I wish him well in his teaching and hope that someday a student will approach him to let him know that he made a difference. Interesting how, in one day, small things can balance each other out.

Eighteen half-marathons later

When I was a kid I ran around the neighbourhood and played outside until dark as did all the kids of my generation. I don't think there were a lot of organized activities for kids and even if there had been, most parents couldn't have afforded them. When we got to junior high we had to take Phys Ed. We had to change into shorts and blouses, this was prior to t-shirts, do jumping jacks and run around the gym and try to jump up and touch the basketball nets. We played badminton, volleyball, basketball and did some rudimentary gymnastics. In the spring we went outside for track and field.

I didn't much like PE. I wasn't good at any of the sports and was kind of a loner to boot. I always tried really hard even though I couldn't see the point of sports. I felt clumsy and awkward. I remember taking a fitness test at one point and getting a certificate for participating. I think I tossed it out and determined that I would quit Phys Ed just as soon as I had the grade ten requirement and I would never have anything to do with sports again.

As with so many things in life, that's not the way it turned out. In university I was too involved with theatre to think of much else and I kept my promise to stay away from sports. When I got a job in Banff I did some hiking and snowshoeing and liked that but that had nothing to do with my idea of what sports were about. I even tried downhill skiing because all my friends were doing it.

While living in Banff I needed to get from the theatre to the high school where the musical theatre division rehearsed. Walking was slow so I bought a ten-speed bike for transportation. I liked riding my bike as a kid and when I got to junior high I became much too sophisticated to continue to ride a bike. In Banff I found I still enjoyed riding my bike and would often open up the theatre, get a rehearsal started and then take off and ride around the golf course. It wasn't unusual to see elk or moose and once or twice I saw bears.

Back at university and in my first few years teaching I didn't ride the bike. Life seemed too full of planning and marking and I sold the bike. Then came mountain bikes. I liked the idea of a mountain bike, different riding posture, fatter tires and lower gears so I bought one and joined the Elbow Valley Cycle Club. From then on we cycled quite a lot and I started to subscribe to Bicycling Magazine. I think it was in those pages that I read an article which said that cyclists had the bone density of couch potatoes. I found that irritating because by then I had become interested in the health benefits of exercise. I decided that I could start running. After all, I didn't need a lot of gear to do that and I hoped it would improve the bone-density outlook.

I took a learn-to-run course and with some friends entered a couple of 5K races. They were fun. I wasn't fast which didn't really matter as there were lots of interesting people to watch and talk to. I began to wonder if I could run longer races and did some 10K's. By this time I was hooked; I had a gym membership and was running at least three times a week. Somebody suggested that we enter the Police Half Marathon. That was scary. It was a long distance and I knew it was going to be hard but I wanted to see if I could do it. I could so I did more.

Then the idea of a marathon started to tickle at the back of my brain. The university had a training program that prepared the participants to run the Honolulu Marathon. My running partner and I signed up. We were both apprehensive. What if we spent all this time and money training and got injured or couldn't finish? We trained hard. It seemed that we only had time for work training, eating and sleeping. Flying over to Hawaii in December with the rest of the people in the course I felt like a real athlete.

The day of the marathon was hot and humid and we ended up walking the last 5 K. It didn't matter. There were people in the streets cheering us on. Some folks had hoses to spray us so we could cool off. At the end of the race one of the coaches reminded us that our medals were exactly the same as someone who did the course twice as fast as we did. He also said he thought it was harder to go slowly because you were out in the sun and the heat longer.

After that marathon I wanted to try for a faster time so I entered the Royal Victoria Marathon the next year and came in right on my target time. I was happy with that and decided not to do any more marathons. It took too much time to train and I was worried about injuries.

Other things came up and I didn't do any races for almost four years. Earlier this year I decided to sign up for another half marathon. If I paid the money to register that meant I had to go and that meant I had to train. And so I began again. That race was in the pouring rain and as I was driving to the start I thought, "You know you don't have to do this. You could just turn around and go home." I decided that having put in the training I'd just be grumpy if I didn't finish the race. My time was slower than the last time I did a half and my hands were so cold driving home that they were tingling. The car has heat and Richard greeted me with hot chocolate when I got home. Wanting to keep the momentum going, I signed up for another half marathon.

Last Sunday I completed my eighteenth half marathon. There were only five people in my age group, men and women combined. I walked the course and my time was among the slowest, although I did manage a faster time than a few women in their forties. Again I'm pleased with myself. We walkers started an hour early. When the first runners began to pass me many of them said, "Good job," or "You're looking good." These are the really fast guys who could just blow by me without saying a word but they take the time to offer encouragement. Most runners I meet are a very accepting lot and I feel at home among them.

It's a long way and a lot of years since I decided I wasn't going to have anything to do with sports. I'm glad I changed my mind.

Back again, but not home

Today this box came back to me. I made it 5 years ago for Helen, my aunt. As usual, I did it at the last minute and I remember taking the lid and my carving knives with me on a short camping trip. I sat at the picnic table and carved. The chips went straight into the fire pit. When we got home I attached the lid to the box, oiled and waxed it and took it with me to the family gathering.

Helen was thrilled. I could count on her to take an interest in what I did and to be enthusiastic about my latest endeavors whatever they were. I know she used the box because when we visited her later that year I saw it sitting on the table stuffed with mail. I was pleased the box had become part of her everyday life.

Today Richard and I attended her memorial service in the small city where she spent much of her adult life. As we prepared to come home my cousin returned the box to me. As I turn it over in my hands I see the flaws and appreciate that Helen saw past the flaws in the box even as she saw past the flaws in people. I will miss her.

The box needs another coat of oil. Tomorrow I will take it into the shop, put oil on it and rub it in, first with a rag and then with my hands. When the oil is dry I will give it a coat of wax. Then I will find a place for it in my everyday life. When I look at it I will think of its real home, on a table in the afternoon sunlight with envelopes protruding from under the lid and I will remember Helen.

One of the Good Ones

During the last couple of days I've been receiving some good-natured flack on Facebook following my comments about the weather. I did say that I was enjoying a beautiful spring-like day and then qualify the statement by saying I didn't want to call it spring otherwise I might jinx the weather. Well, sure enough, we got about 6" of snow last night. I haven't checked that on the weather service; I'm judging by what was on the walks today.

Before he left this morning for an icky drive to work on slippery roads, Richard asked me if I would shovel a path so that we'd have a clean space to walk when the snow started to melt. Before I got around to it some kind neighbour, I don't know who, had shovelled the city sidewalk in front of our house. I decided I'd better get out there and get the snow off the walk leading up to the house. I put on my winter boots, only because they were easy to slip into and were more waterproof than my shoes. The temperature was a bit above freezing so I donned a shell over my light fleece.

Bits of heavy, wet snow dropped from the trees down my neck a couple of times. No matter, the weather was warm and I wouldn't melt with a little water. As I shovelled I listened to robins, gulls and the occasional magpie. I decided since it was pleasant out, I might as well tackle the driveway as well.

I went around to the back and began. It took me about an hour. No sense pulling muscles in the heavy wet stuff. It wasn't long before I shed my gloves. Then I took off my shell and hung it over the mirror of the big van. There was a small rivulet running down the side of the van caused by the snow melting off the windshield. I worked for a bit and then pushed up my sleeves. I debated about taking off my fleece. Every once in a while a gust of wind would come up and cool me off sufficiently so I left the fleece on.

I was completely content as I was tossed shovels full of snow behind the back fence. The temperatures and the snow stirred memories of the time I spent in Banff as a student many years ago. We went out drawing in the spring snow and then when we were wet and cold, we went into a restaurant on Banff Avenue for a cup of tea. Many nights I sat by the fireplace in what used to be called the Admin Building and watched snow fall through beams of outdoor lights onto the lawn. And, I remember skiing Sunshine with just a sweater and a light shell.

As I stood on the clear driveway looking at and listening to three robins in the bare branches of a weeping birch, I realized there are worse things than being physically able to deal with spring snow. There are worse things than having a cool breeze take the sweat off my forehead. There are worse things than shovelling snow with bare hands and arms. Now, I'm not expecting people who love the heat to agree with me. If temperatures in the high 20's to mid 30's make you feel alive, my hat is off to you. Enjoy those temperatures to the fullest whether you have to go to latitudes closer to the equator to experience them or whether you love the few days in Alberta when the temperature climbs and I head for the basement. I hope those temperatures will bring you the kind of contentment I had today in the spring snow. Today was one of the good ones.

(I shot a bit of video with robins chirping in the background - enjoy.)

Crusing in Costa Rica

Now that is an odd title for me. First of all, I thought I'd never be caught dead taking a cruise and second, Costa Rica wasn't high on my list of places to visit. It was another one of those , "Why not?" moments that are becoming more frequent in my life.

We were on a WindStar ship when cycling with Santana Cycles in Spain and Portugal in November and got an email announcing a half-price deal on some of their cruises. Richard and I had discussed getting away for spring break and one of the cruises happened to span that time. We signed up. It wasn't really on our radar until about two weeks before we left when suddenly we realized we'd better start thinking about what to take. We sat down at the computer one night and booked all of our shore excursions so we wouldn't have to debate once on the ship.

We had two nights in a hotel in San Jose in which to practice our slug technique, or perhaps given the country, I should call it 'sloth' technique. Richard particularly needed the time to just unwind and get caught up on sleep.

In many ways the Costa Rica we saw was not what I expected. It was nearing the end of the dry season and many of the trees lose their leaves to conserve moisture. I didn't expect to see bare trees in a tropical country. There was a blanket of brown leaves on many of the paths we took through the forest.

We chose the wildlife spotting options for our excursions except for the first one which was in Nicaragua and involved a trip to a volcano. I was a little dismayed by the signs in Spanish and English warning motorists to park their cars facing out in case they had to get away quickly. Other signs suggested that if there was a lot of debris coming from the volcano people might want to take shelter under their cars.

When we were there the volcano behaved itself. It spewed clouds of sulfurous gasses which were impressive enough for me. One of the guides I talked to reported being at the volcano with a group of visitors when the volcano decided to throw soft-ball-sized chunks of rock up over the rim. He said although no one was hurt, it frightened him. We talked for maybe five minutes and as I turned to go down the stairs and back to the bus I wished him well. That short interaction reminded me what I like so much about young adults. He was friendly, open, interested and interesting.

We visited Manuel Antonio park, Fincas Naturales, Corcovado National Park and Curu Wildlife Refuge. Our guides had very sharp eyes and all carried spotting scopes. One guide allowed those with small digital cameras to take photos through the spotting scope. We saw a variety of wildlife. There were many birds even around the hotel in San Jose. One of them looked like a relative of the magpie in body and tail shape although this bird was all black. There were numerous small song birds and Richard managed good photos of one that landed on our balcony the first morning while I was still asleep.

We saw pelicans flying in a v formation almost like geese and there were white and blue herons at various points of the trip. I was delighted to see two scarlet macaws fly overhead. Because they were against the light sky I couldn't see their brilliant colours but it was enough to have seen them in the wild. Macaws and parakeets are protected in Costa Rica and many of our guide have strong feelings that such birds should never be kept as pets. I mostly kept my mouth shut on the subject. The birds we have were all bred in captivity specifically as pets. I am absolutely against owning wild-caught birds who tend not to make very good pets anyway. Costa Ricans are not allowed to keep native birds as pets but people who had birds as pets before the law was enacted were allowed to keep them. That's how I got my best shots of a scarlet macaw. His name is Paco and he lives on Tortuga island. He had a serious injury to his wing and even after he recovered his health he was unable to fly. Paco has a perch around one of the palm trees where he sits and poses for the tourists. In the time I watched an photographed him he didn't utter a sound. I imagine a few good screams from a macaw would terrify some of the children visiting the island.

We were able to observe two and three-toes sloths, again thanks to guides with sharp eyes who knew what to look for. One of the varieties of sloth has an algae growing in its fur so it looks like part of the tree. The algae is necessary to the life cycle of a species of moth that lives in the forest. We encountered agoutis in many different places. These are rodents about the size of cats. They have long hind legs almost like a jack rabbit and, most surprising to me, they have no tails.

I'm not sure of the name of the relative of the raccoon we saw. They have long prehensile tails that are striped like a raccoon's tail. At one place we saw four or five different individuals some of which chased off one of the late comers.

By the time we left the country we had seen all three of the types of monkeys that inhabit Costa Rica and had heard the howlers do their thing on an early morning nature hike. I don't imagine you'd need an alarm clock if you were staying close to a bunch of howlers.

On our day at sea we spotted turtles and dolphins. I can't believe I forgot to bring binoculars with me. That will definitely be on the list of items for the next trip. Our guides were superb at spotting wildlife or evidence of it. One guide stopped us and pointed to a perfectly camouflaged nest containing two eggs about a foot off the path where we were walking. All in all it was a memorable holiday although I was very thankful to have an air conditioned cabin to return to after a couple of hours walking in the jungle.

Breaking and Exiting

Odie again gets the spotlight in this one. Ever since we got him we've known that he needed a job. We didn't know that he would find one for himself.

For quite a while Odie has bee playing with the spring on one of the doors on his cage. He'll slide it up and then let it drop down, bite the bars to hear them ping, and then resume sliding the spring up and down the bar. When we got the cage for him I wired all the doors shut except the front one so I wasn't terrible worried about his constant fiddling with the door on the right side of the cage.

I was, therefore, quite surprised when I came into the kitchen a few days ago glanced toward the bird cages and did a double-take. There was Odie looking pleased a punch sitting on top of his cage. I didn't let him out. Richard didn't let him out because he wasn't home at the time ,and the front door of the cage was shut. When I looked a bit more closely I saw that Odie had managed to break the weld on one of the wires holding the side door so hat it was now hanging by one corner, the one I had wired. There was a nice little triangle of space just enough for Odie to slip through.

First problem: how to get Odie away from the cage so I could figure out how to patch it. Next problem, how to patch the cage. I couldn't exactly weld it back together and I didn't want to use anything that would be harmful to Odie. I called the vet and asked what kind of wire would be safe around birds. Answer: stainless steel. We didn't happen to have any of that in our possession so I decided that I could do a temporary patch. I talked very sweetly to Odie who was still on top of the cage. I asked his permission to put up the wooden perch we sometimes use as a bridge so he can go from his cage to the back of one of the dining room chairs to his bird gym. I moved slowly and he behaved himself and just watched instead of rushing and lunging for my hand.

I got the perch set up and opened the door; then I sat down at the table to wait and see what he would do. Eventually he climbed off the top of the cage, walked across the perch and started playing with the toys on his gym. I disconnected the perch from the cage. I didn't want some little green parrot with a sharp beak running up and attacking me while I was trying to fix the cage. I decided that I could take a piece of wood and simply tie it to the cage with cotton string. I knew that wouldn't last long but it only had to last until I could get out to get some wire to make a more permanent patch.

I managed to slip into the shop, find a suitable piece of softwood and drill holes to secure it to the cage. All the while I kept an eye on what Odie was doing on his gym. I hoped he wouldn't get it into his little bird brain to flap down to the floor because I sure wasn't in any mood to try to pick him up either with my hands or a perch. He stayed put and I got the wood tied onto the cage. Then I put the perch back, put an almond in his cage where he could see it and waited. It didn't take him very long to make his way back to the cage to get the almond. I shut the door and crossed my fingers that he wouldn't chew through the string too fast.

The next day I was out in the morning and was a bit nervous about what I might find in the way of destruction when I came home. All was well so I decided to leave things alone. Part way through the evening I came out into the kitchen and there was Odie on the top of his cage once more. He had, predictably, chewed through the strings and some of the wood and escaped again. This time Richard was home so he was able to babysit Odie while I fashioned a more durable patch.

That patch is still holding up. Every day Odie chews a bit more wood off it but, so far, he hasn't been able to break any of the wires. When he does, or when he manages to chew through the wood, I have a special wooden sandwich planned for him. I'll put a piece of maple or poplar on the inside of the cage and bolt it to a piece of softwood on the outside of he cage. I stocked up on stainless steel nuts, bolts and washers for the purpose. Each day I check the patch especially if I'm going to be out for a while. I want him to be busy with this arrangement as long as possible but I don't want him actually getting out.

Little did I know when I wished for a bird that was a bit more entertaining than the cockatiel and the budgie just how entertaining Odie would be!

Life with Odie: the first year

We got Odie, the African Senegal parrot, on December 27, 2009. I thought I had done my homework quite well. The breed is supposed to be easy-going, quiet (as parrots go), fun-loving and friendly. I talked to our avian vet about Senegals and I talked to people who had parrots. I wanted an interactive parrot, one I could work with, maybe train to do a few tricks and, yes, I wanted a parrot I could handle. Having willingly moved from cats to birds because of my husband's allergy, I still want a pet I can ... pet. I have great memories of my Quaker parrot, Koko sitting with me for long periods of time while I preened her head. She would shut her eyes and move her head around until I got exactly the right spot.

Ever since Koko died I've been watching the Kijiji ads for birds, just to see what's out there. The ad for Odie would appear and then would disappear for a few months and then appear again. I watched this with increasing interest. Odie was young but not a baby. He liked head-scratches from anyone and, clearly, the owner wanted the right home for him and was willing to wait until the right people came along. After talking it over with Richard, I called the number in the ad. We arranged to go over and meet Odie. I felt a bit like I was going on a blind date. His owners were very nice and they let him out of his cage and showed us how he played and how he liked to have his head scratched. Odie stepped up on my finger when I asked him to and when I went to put him back into his cage he set his beak on my finger. He didn't bite. He was just letting me know that maybe I had moved a bit fast for him.

We went home and thought about it some more. These parrots can live for 40 years so we'd have to make provision for him in our will. I emailed the owner and asked if he would allow us to take Odie to our vet and get a health check done on him. The owner agreed and met us at the vet's. He then took off for coffee and Odie got his first look at the vet's office. The vet was quite impressed with him. He seemed gentle enough. She said he had a number of chances to bite her but didn't. We also had him DNA sexed. Living with a broody female cockatiel convinced us that a male was what we wanted. Odie's test results came back saying that he was a fairly healthy male. We agreed to take Odie after Christmas. His wings weren't clipped and his owner said he could have the wings clipped before we picked Odie up.

With one thing and another the owner wasn't able to get Odie clipped by the time we were to go and get him. We waited and eventually said that we would take him to our vet to get his wings done. Because of the delay the owners delivered Odie to us at around 9:00 on December 27. We didn't have a chance to do much more than put him to bed that night. Over the next few days he amused us by lying on his back in our hands, speaking in long sentences, none of which we understood and generally checking out the house. He was a bit nippy but we figured he'd settle in. We specifically asked the owners if there had been any problems with biting and they said there hadn't.

About the third night Odie was with us the phone rang. He was out on the top of his cage where he had been when the phone had rung before. For some reason this time it spooked him and he took off. The appointment to get his wings clipped was the next day. He flew into the dining room and landed on the top of a halogen light. He didn't stay there long. I offered him my hand to step onto but he took off and flew right into the transom window between the dining room and the shop. I heard the thump and went rushing down the stairs to where Odie sat hunched up on the floor. I scooped him up and put him back into his cage while my husband called the vet. I unceremoniously dumped the person whose call caused the flight. The vet's office had just closed although they still answered the phone. They told us to take Odie to the animal emergency clinic. I got Odie to step up onto my hand from his cage and was able to put him into his carrier. He did clamp down on my hand but let go when I put him in the carrier.

Odie had a bump on his head and probably a headache. We came home with pain medication for him and life resumed. I noticed that Odie wouldn't always step up on my hand when it came time for me to put him back into his cage. When I tried to get him to step up he sometimes bit me. I've done a lot of reading on training parrots and all of it emphasizes how important it is to have a well-socialized bird i.e. one that doesn't bite. Most of the literature says that it's important to teach your parrot to step up reliably so that you can use that request to calm him down or to get him out of danger if need be. Most of the training info I read used food rewards along with a signal to make the wanted behaviour so that the bird would learn that if he repeated the behaviour he'd get a treat.

Sometimes when I offered Odie food he would take it gently. Sometimes he would bite me and when he bit he meant business. I cleaned blood of the kitchen floor on a number of occasions and found myself wishing I owned shares in a band-aid company. I read more books; we filled out a behavioural questionnaire for the vet and had a couple of consultations. She said I really needed to get Odie stepping up. She suggested that I use wooden perches so that he wouldn't bite my hands. On the few occasions I had tried a wooden perch Odie stepped on it and rushed down toward my hand. I asked her if I could wear gloves while holding the perches. She said I could wear oven mitts if I wanted.

One afternoon I decided it was time to try out the new procedure. I got a couple of pieces of dowel and put on the oven mitts. I let Odie out of his cage, approached him with one of the dowels and asked him to step up. He stepped on the dowel and immediately stepped down. I asked him to step up again and he ran around the side of it. I tried a third time and he flapped off the top of his cage and landed on the floor. I followed him from the dining room to the kitchen and into the living room offering the dowel for him to step on. He went around the side. He hopped over it. He hopped on it and flapped off. Then he turned around and headed back into the kitchen and into a corner. I wasn't going to crowd him in the corner so I stood back and glanced up at the clock wondering what to do next. When I looked back, he was gone. I knew he couldn't have gotten past me. I went over to the corner where a built in cabinet met the wall and discovered that there was a space between the side of the cabinet and the wall. This space was covered with a false front and there was an opening at the bottom that Odie had gotten into.

I got down on the floor and talked to Odie. He growled. I called the vet. She told me at our previous consultation if there was anything I needed I should call. I needed to get this bird out of the space between the cabinet and the wall! The vet suggested that I try to get a perch in there so he could step on that and I could take him out. She also suggested that I try to entice him out with his favourite treats. I hung up and put some grapes at the opening. More growling.

I waited for an hour and a half hoping the bird would come out. I had visions of him dying of starvation in there. About this time Richard came home and I greeted him with, "Your bird is in there!" We were supposed to go to my father-in-law's for dinner. It was his birthday. We called to say we would be late for supper and Richard tried to coax Odie out. No dice. Finally we decided to take the cabinet apart. We took the doors off, removed some of the contents and then went to work with a small pry bar. When we got the strip off Richard looked down at a very dusty, growling bird. I stayed out of the way while Richard talked softly to Odie and eventually got him to step up onto one of his rope perches. Once back in his cage Odie was somewhat subdued for a couple of days.

Even though it probably wasn't the right thing to do, I stopped trying to handle Odie. If I don't get my fingers anywhere near him he can't bite me. Richard is the one who picks Odie up and moves him from his cage to his gym. Over time Odie has come to make some friendly gestures toward me. In the morning when I take his cover off he offers and enthusiastic, "Ooooo," followed by a number of slow wing stretches. We are at the point now where he will dip his head against the bars of his cage so I can scratch his head. He moves his head around and closes his eyes and sometimes he makes a purring sound.

A few times when he's been on his gym he's dipped his head and I've put my hand out to give him a scratch. I've been rewards with more bleeding digits. I've tried a number of the techniques suggested by various trainers including distracting him. The problem is that he's much faster than I am. By the time I realize he's going to bite it's way, way too late.

So I suppose after a year Odie and I have a kind of truce. I enjoy stroking his head, through the bars so we both feel safe and he makes me laugh when he swings on his toys or calls out, "Richard, come get your birdie!" He plays a game of blink with me and will sometimes initiate it. He seems calmer now than when we got him and I hope that someday we'll both be able to interact without the cage bars between us. I know that I'm the human and it's my job to figure out as much as I can about what makes this little green dragon behave in the way he does.

I'm grateful that Odie protests when he thinks I'm going to leave the house. On some level he recognizes that we are members of the same flock. I enjoy his physical antics and the contented noises he makes when I stroke his head. I laugh when he demands, " Where's Richard?" This certainly isn't what I envisioned when we agreed to add Odie into our flock but I'm fond of him. This isn't what Richard expected either. He has taken on much more of Odie's care than either of us thought he would, and even though Odie was my idea, Richard doesn't complain. I don't know what year two with Odie will bring but I'm pretty confident in predicting it will continue to be an adventure.