They remember it like it was yesterday: crammed into their tiny studio, just two young birds in an arranged relationship.
No running water, just a cistern that was supposed to supply their needs for the day, but mostly just leaked everywhere. Not even a separate kitchen, they had to bed down on top of the bulk grains they'd stocked up on against the lean hours. People tell youngsters to shop at Costco to save money, but they never mention that you'll have no place to put it. The building superintendent told them they'd be flying to their new home, but perhaps they misunderstood what she meant, because the whole day they didn't get any flying time in at all. Also, it was cold when they got to the other Washington, and the person who was carrying their little home was grumbling that it was late and he should just leave everything for the morning. And they were tired and they thought maybe it would be nice if all the jostling would just stop and they could have a proper snoozle. But then, there was a voice, a voice that was designed to be quiet, but speaking up, because she was there to get them and that was really important. "Um, is that waybill 275939? That's me. They're my birds. I'm here! I can take them right now!"
And then there was some more of the going out into the cold air, and dark, then light then dark again and then a stage wait while the voice muttered, "righty tighty, lefty loosey" and some more jostling and finally the door opened and they could see that their studio, apparently these things are modular, because it had been placed into another structure, and oh, finally, room to fly!
And there were days and weeks and months and for the longest time they didn't even have names, just Thing 1 and Thing 2. But sometimes Mustrum was Thing 1 and sometimes Esme was. It was all very confusing, but their carer obviously meant well, even if she didn't always seem to know what she was doing.
And, well, that was the year that was.
Happy Gotcha Day, Mustrum and Esme! Here's wishing many happy returns of the day.
No running water, just a cistern that was supposed to supply their needs for the day, but mostly just leaked everywhere. Not even a separate kitchen, they had to bed down on top of the bulk grains they'd stocked up on against the lean hours. People tell youngsters to shop at Costco to save money, but they never mention that you'll have no place to put it. The building superintendent told them they'd be flying to their new home, but perhaps they misunderstood what she meant, because the whole day they didn't get any flying time in at all. Also, it was cold when they got to the other Washington, and the person who was carrying their little home was grumbling that it was late and he should just leave everything for the morning. And they were tired and they thought maybe it would be nice if all the jostling would just stop and they could have a proper snoozle. But then, there was a voice, a voice that was designed to be quiet, but speaking up, because she was there to get them and that was really important. "Um, is that waybill 275939? That's me. They're my birds. I'm here! I can take them right now!"
And then there was some more of the going out into the cold air, and dark, then light then dark again and then a stage wait while the voice muttered, "righty tighty, lefty loosey" and some more jostling and finally the door opened and they could see that their studio, apparently these things are modular, because it had been placed into another structure, and oh, finally, room to fly!
And there were days and weeks and months and for the longest time they didn't even have names, just Thing 1 and Thing 2. But sometimes Mustrum was Thing 1 and sometimes Esme was. It was all very confusing, but their carer obviously meant well, even if she didn't always seem to know what she was doing.
And, well, that was the year that was.
Happy Gotcha Day, Mustrum and Esme! Here's wishing many happy returns of the day.
Congratulations to all of you! I love that cage; is it a walk in, indoor aviary?!
