Guinea Playdate

The birds, our soon-to-be tick-fighting army of 12, are 4-weeks old and beginning to lose their baby down. Eventually, they’ll have no feathers on their necks. Feo, but fierce.

Notice all the newspaper under the cage. That’s my struggling former profession’s work under there collecting all the bird crap. Whenever I got upset about a story — how it was played, what a source said, what an insane editor made me write/do — my husband always pointed out that “it’ll be wrapping fish tomorrow.” Or collecting caca.

What got cut out in the video editing: “You know what this is? Proof that my husband loves me.” And, after I gave them grass and they went all wacky, I said it was proof the weed is good.

Finally, I can tell you exactly what my mother will say when she sees this video:
“Ay, Dios mio Caridad, mira toda esa mierda.”

One woman’s mierda is another woman’s compost.