This Sunday morning, August 11, 2019, I am the houseguest of my aunt Diane Norrbom and her roommate Priscilla. Another resident is their cockatiel Bunny.

Bunny and I have been whistle-talking to each other through the cage bars. Sometimes Bunny likes what I say and comes closer. Other times Bunny scuttles away, using talons and beak to grapple along the inside of the cage the way Tom Cruise geckoed on the outside glass of that Dubai skyscraper in one of the MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE movies.

And once  Bunny responded to my whistle with his plumage rising and falling like a bellows, or gills, then unloaded some digestive endproduct onto the newspaper below. Translation: STFU. So I stopped whistling and started drawing.

cockatiel

crank your plumage mon petit

own your cage of staid ennui

cackle grandly make a sale

knowing that you cannot fail