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Meet My Roommates

Banana is a Peach-faced Lovebird, whose favourite hobbies include shredding important documents and requesting head scratches.

Milky Way is a Lionhead rabbit who enjoys lurking about in his Bunny Lair and sneaking onto tabletops when no-one is looking.

Red is a canary who likes to spend his day decimating toys and snacking wherever possible – even when he’s on a diet.

Tweedle and Puff are a bonded Zebra finch pair who bide their time eagerly conspiring about their next egg-laying session, even if it means more visits to the vet.

Sky and Yellow are a bonded budgie pair who alternate between serenading each other and provoking other birds through the cage bars.

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The Perils of Wicker and Other Such Seemingly Inedible Items

savoury snacks for the perpetually peckish lagomorph

We do not know what goes on in the minds of rabbits.  This much is true.  Whether they are plotting your overthrow or deciding which part of the new rug to poop on, we can’t say.

Anything you think can’t be eaten, can be eaten – at least when it comes to bunnies.  Envision the attractive and trendy wicker or seagrass baskets.  Yes, the ones that are commonly found alongside seating designs such as chaise longues, where normal people pause only to wistfully eye up a lifestyle they will never experience.

It is here that you will find rather fetching sets of baskets – round, square, rectangular, oval, large and small – in an equally fetching material that you think will rather well suit your nonchalant and insouciant home style.  Of course it will, and you will realize it right away.  

But so will your rabbit.

If one does not immediately and adequately erect barriers – as a means of deterrent – or find a distractant sufficient to divert a rabbit’s attentions away from the tender and delectable crunch of dried water hyacinth, one has only a matter of minutes to witness the inevitable dismantling and liquidation of their prized (albeit briefly) property.

Not having understood fully the velocity and speed at which irreversible damage could occur, I was once the proud owner of a wicker laundry basket, under the mistaken impression that its presence increased my social standing (No, Dania, you can’t PRETEND to be middle-class MERELY by purchasing moderately priced furniture items, when you are LITERALLY STILL RENTING).

But as I like to look at the glass half-full, let’s take a peek at the other end of the spectrum:  Here I am going off about what rabbits do eat but shouldn’t, when I should be telling you what rabbits can be eating instead.

My little wafflemonsters do enjoy a lively romp, especially if it is towards a fresh bunch of basil or mint or kale.  Take your precious wickers and banish them to higher ground.  Floor-level is yo’ rabbit’s domain and the sooner you realize this the sooner you will save your perishables.

Fashionable metal plant stands are a great way to uplift your priceless dried-seaweed baskets to a non-munchable elevation, and with that out of the way you can put your focus back on your buns (stop thinking about yourself. You know what I mean) and their happiness in life.  If you are a true lover of the lagomorph, perhaps you would even consider laying your hands upon a dried sea-cress washing basket, and gifting it to your bunny-ling in a gesture of love and submission (submission is always appreciated when one is communing with God’s gentler creatures such as the flippy-floppy).  

Heck, fill the gifted basket with your bun’s favourite snackables and herbs.  

Here is Milk’s list of enthusiastic devourings:

Cilantro
Kale
Dill
Chickweed
Dandelion
Red-leafed lettuce
Arugula
Mint
Thyme
Sage
White-flowering Clover
Raspberry Leaves
Wild Grasses
Bit o’ Wicker

Milk has been less excited by things such as:

Stinging Nettle (come on! The internet said bunnies love this!)
Apple tree twigs
Raspberry twigs
Pinecones
Crabapple flowers
Celery
The snacky-toys that Mummy buys

The moral of the story is – never take your precious belongings for granted; if a rabbit can reach it, they will. It is just a matter of time. And be sure to shower your lagomorph with an abundance of fresh leafy greens. It will, for at least a moment in time, keep those chippy chompers off your wicker and in your herbs.

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A Morning in Photos

homemaking for beginners: the starter’s edition

If I were to describe to you the following photos it would ruin all the fun. Let’s just say it starts with a cup of coffee and ends with a quack. There may even be a pointing picture.

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When Life Gives You Acid Reflux, Take Ten

or thirty. It’s your life.

No one said it would be easy.  We just always held out hope it would be.  And when it is, gosh.  We just run with it, singing in the shower about how things are finally going our way, knowing full well that the next brick-sized chunk of destiny is just around the corner, waiting to jump us for everything we’ve got, until, thrown back from whence we came, we find ourselves again curled up in our beds lamenting the sudden turn of fate that we did not see coming – even though we did.

Much the same occurs even during the most innocent of pursuits, such as a casual game of backgammon or bouldering.  Destiny does not discriminate.  So it is best to have on hand a variety of coping methods to help absorb the shock and ride out the worst of the storm.  I speak here of things such as magazine subscriptions, sweatpants, and prescription sedatives.  One might even consider adding such comforts as instant noodles and weight gain.  There’s nothing like a warm soft cushion around our tender hearts when the going gets rough.

At least that’s what we can tell ourselves when we’ve downed 1080 calories of Boom Chicka Pop in one sitting and we still don’t feel better.  And this is where the antacids come in. 

it came in the night: a midsummer’s dream

What could possibly be more captivating than fiction itself?  True life.  In a span of mere months, I have:

  • been laid off,
  • been served an eviction notice,
  • disputed an eviction notice,
  • won an eviction dispute,
  • moved out anyway.

Considering the level of life restructuring involved, it would have been a wonder had I had time to enjoy such things as rewarding hobbies or personal growth. Instead, among my greater achievements of the summer, I have been the proud recipient of gray hair and perma-acne, each a fascinating contradiction to the other.  I mean, how often does one get to experience the unique combination of premature ageing with the folly of youth? 

In addition to these exciting milestones that I’m sure all adults must celebrate, I have also taken on a full-time position of land- and game-keeper at my new residence.  This involves a multitude of tasks, some of which include:

  • Designing dresswear for poultry and waterfowl
  • Keeping a steady flow of empties off the back lawn lest it impede foot traffic or the lawnmower
  • Trying new and exciting recipes with discount food items
  • Keeping bunnies out of the drywall and on my lap where they belong
  • Learning basic roofing and gutter maintenance
  • Complaining about the lack of space in a queen-size bed due to the presence of another person in it
  • Re-experiencing the 1880s through flower and vegetable harvesting
  • Luring rabbits from under the couch with homemade treats
  • Keeping felines out of the mustard greens

Naturally, this sort of lifestyle suits best the unemployed or bush-wandering of us, and those who love checklists. Luckily for me, I fall under all three categories, so my work is cut out for me. Hello world.

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Storage & the Modern Pioneer

yes, it involves martha stewart

I know what you’re all thinking. How could I possibly promote a closet organizer designed by an ex-convict? Let me tell you a secret: there is no other way.

Not in my life, and perhaps not in yours. No other options exist. If you are living out of a shoe closet or bunking in someone’s pantry, you really are at the mercy of whatever life throws your way. In fact, you will probably be overjoyed to receive anything at all. So this piece of wisdom I offer to you: when it comes to the world of small space habitation, vertical living is the key.

Around the time that China was building islands in the South China Sea, I was wandering lonely as a cloud through Home Depot. Overwhelmed by the variety and volume of home organization decor, I grabbed the closest item in a sheer panic and ran. When I got home I discovered it was a six-cubed Martha Stewart Living home organizer. Curiously, I’d also taken several collapsible fabric bins, which upon closer inspection fit perfectly in the compartments.

Unfortunately I can’t say much for the colour selection of Martha’s designs, but I’m sure it’s tricky designing things online when you have other inmates impatiently awaiting their 15-minute internet slot.

Seriously, this is ugly right? Green is okay; beige is okay; but there’s a TIME AND A PLACE FOR BOTH

Luckily for me, the organizer only fits in my closet. Which I keep closed. Always. As you can see, I have utilized every compartment to its maximum potential:

My belongings are my birds’ belongings; therefore my belongings are merely expensive bird toys

Unfortunately you can see the lack of space creates some organizational issues, but I am a person who loves challenges.

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When Life Gives You Ducks, Make Diapers

Everyone needs a ladybug in their life.
pressing on with the weight of the world behind you

There may come a time in your life when you realize you have a situation on your hands that requires more legwork than you could have predicted.  For some of us, it comes in the form of a vehicular malfunction while ripping down the highway on a particularly windy stretch of road, fifty kilometres past the last known garage and forty shy of the next one.  For others, it may transpire through a series of pivotal events which culminate in you bringing your first boyfriend home only to discover the second waiting to surprise you on your doorstep, giving you a mere breath to come up with something equal in genius to Newton’s Third Law (though with less physics and significantly less time).

Whichever situation is more your style, both have the potential for premature ageing on your part, if not properly tackled and defused with expert precision and speed.

For instance, when one discovers that one’s duck has – rather inexplicably – contracted an eye infection, there is nary a moment to hesitate before taking that fateful journey down the highway in an attempt to acquire the assistance of the only doctor you trust with your companion’s life.  Sure, it is not one’s choice to live seventy-two kilometres away, but the chips lay where they have fallen, and so have we.

Though we may be panicking at this point – much like the moment at which our boyfriends unknowingly step forward to shake each other’s hand, or the point at which our hub cap merrily dislodges itself and launches into oncoming traffic at a speed of no less than 90 kilometres an hour – it behooves us to maintain a focussed and composed demeanour in order that we come through this event intact (which is especially crucial when speed is involved). 

In the case of ducks, when we finally find ourselves homeward bound after our hefty emergency bill, we can enjoy the fact that we are also giving our ducks a rare opportunity to discover the city. But our job doesn’t end here: we’ve been given a list of instructions by our preferred physician, some of which entail moving the duck indoors and fashioning duck booties out of baby socks so as to discourage scratching.  While some may grow anxious and apprehensive at such a vast and seemingly impossible undertaking, others see it as an opportunity to prove their competence once more to the world (particularly if they are unemployed).

Ducks, as some may be surprised to learn, do not have the ability nor the desire to control their bowels (this tells you something about their personality: should they suddenly develop the ability, they still wouldn’t care), and will defecate on any surface upon which they stand: this includes our attractive faux-wood laminate flooring and IKEA throw rug.  Rather than drop-sheeting our entire home, why not tackle the problem directly at the source?  While a simple Google search will reveal to us a number of commercially available duck diapers, it is not impossible to fashion one’s own out of household items and second-hand cloth nappies.  With our duck living indoors, we obviously would like them to be as cute as possible, as well as clean.

Naturally, by the time one has achieved (or in the case of the less fortunate, nearly achieved) expertise in the intricacies of waterfowl diaperage, it will most likely be time to set these creatures outside once more (I never said it was easy, I just said it was possible).  But hold onto those custom-fitted creations; knowing our luck, it is only a matter of time before a duck comes calling again.

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Organization & The Modern Fridge

This photo is purely decorative – imagine how boring the shelf of a fridge would actually look.
shelves are all they’re cracked up to be

We have come a long way as a species, from hoarding our perishables in the dirt for refrigeration purposes, to actually using refrigerators.  And it’s not just our food that needs to be kept cold: it’s the food of pretty well all of your animal companions.  Bird seeds in themselves have a three-month lifespan, provided they are kept refrigerated, and bird pellets have a six-week time limit once they are opened (check out Harrison’s Bird Foods to find out why seeds need to be ditched and pellets are the best choice).

With everything you’re juggling (such as filing taxes in a timely manner or wine-making in your bathtub) dates need to be kept track of and bird foods need to be labelled. If you don’t have a sharpie, you should invest in one; I highly recommend it. And while you are still nosing about in your fridge –

utilizE the secret compartments in your fridge to your advantage

My fridge is, quite conceivably, older than I am.  Judging by its appearance, it was birthed off its factory conveyor belt sometime between 1981 and 1983.  Not only does that show you that things were indeed built to last, it also explains some of the challenges I experience with refrigeration (not with fridges in general, just this one. I’m not that daft).  When I moved into my apartment – circa 2010 – the fridge that awaited me only had one shelf, although it was obvious it had contained at least four in the prime of its life.  

Not only did I have to scavenge a secondary shelf from a conveniently discarded refrigerator by the dumpster out back, but I also had to rig up a method of supporting this shelf.  It still sits to this day hooked onto a piece of plastic on the inner back wall, supported by two bottles on either side: Nonna Pia’s Balsamic Reduction (highly recommended), and Crown’s Golden Corn Syrup (expired in October 2019 but still good as far as I can tell).

Given the lack of convenience this fridge routinely offers, I was not surprised when I discovered that this one came with not a dozen, but ten built-in egg-holders.  Now, you might say that all fridges are made this way, but I choose to blame it on my make and model, and the sheer weight of age it carries with it.  Needless to say, I refuse to put my eggs in a container where not all of them will be held and where I still have to leave a carton of two on the shelf regardless.  The very thought of subjecting myself to its inconvenience offends me.

So as you may have guessed my egg-holders lie empty.  Well, mostly: they have been great for storing tubes of crazy glue and the odd lemon, and now, bottles of bird medicine.  If you’ve never seen one of these, they are tiny.  Think of a teensy-weensy bottle of essential oil, the ones you pay $12 for.  That size.  Except in my case I pay anywhere from $40 to $60CAD as the contents are somewhat more legit, and prescribed by actual doctors.

Seeing as you’ve paid a hefty amount for your 3mL bird prescription, you’ll want to be making sure you don’t lose a drop.  Egg-holders will do that for you, and more!  Being located in the fridge, they will also keep those KEEP REFRIGERATED bottles cold.  But best to double-check with your (qualified) (avian) veterinarian before making that call, as not all medications require it.

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Keeping Your Ducks in a Row (& Off Your Counters)

dedicating Space (And Your Life) to your birds

As a disclaimer, you should know that letting ducks onto your counter tops is an invitation for trouble.  As quaint as it may seem, it is a mistake unless you live in a barn.  A duck’s clumsy nature combined with their already low clearance is a deadly combination – their direct radius of havoc is about as wide as their wingspan, and the turbulence resulting from a gentle stretching of their wings is comparable to the rotor wash of a helicopter. So keep this in mind when introducing your house to your duck: best keep it to the floors (or couch, if you are watching TV together).

With that in mind, the things you place on your counters are of importance when it comes to running a house of various birds, mammals, or reptiles.  With the trending of tiny homes, it is a matter of necessity that you sort your priorities.  Space isn’t cheap for most of us, and living in a miniature world is the reality for plenty of people, whether it be by choice or mere misfortune.  We need to make the most of what we have.

As someone who has little storage space or surface area, I need to make sure the things I value the most are nearby and ready: in this case, bird supplies.  As you know, I weigh each bird several times a week, and two to three times a day I may have to administer medication. This grueling task can only be made easier by a strict code of order and organization. Without it I would have lost marble a long time ago.

I’ve taken the liberty of drafting out a not-to-scale rendition of my bathroom counter, for ease of explanation.

A clean counter is a clean mind, as a famous person once said

Thank heavens I consider this strict organization. If it became any more lax than this, I would be eating off the floor – simply for lack of space. And as we all know, one can’t be a proud bird parent while dining on the kitchen tiles; it just won’t do.

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Coping When The World Gets on Top of You

handling the threat of eviction with grace and eloquence

Certain people have the ability to slough off life’s hardships as if they were water droplets rolling off a freshly-minted Goretex, while other people – such as myself – take it as a personal form of rejection that can only be compared to events such as getting shoved into a locker, or wedgied in gym class.

Having endured rejection for the majority of one’s life does not necessarily mean that one is accepting of one’s circumstances, it only means that we are used to it. Sort of like Eeyore going along his merry way, knowing he is a loser and yet still continuing to get up every morning like he doesn’t know that today will be exactly like yesterday, and all the preceding days of his existence.

When one gets used to being a windshield wiper on the glass of life, certain trivial eventualities such as evictions, or speeding tickets, or bunions only serve to reinforce one’s conviction that life is a beach and we just happen to be the grain firmly ensconced in someone else’s swimming trunks.

Receiving a formal letter of rejection under one’s doorstep is distressing news, as it means having to dislodge oneself from the world one has firmly burrowed into in the hopes of escaping the world which exists everywhere else. It means having to endure the inconvenience of rearranging one’s vintage burlap sack collection, and finding a new location for your mini-couch and television arrangement (they have to go together, or else what’s the point?). Not to mention the humiliation of lugging all of your worldly possessions box by box under the malevolent gaze of your former landlord, who is no doubt enthused by your premature departure.

Being the unlucky sods that we are does not mean that we don’t have dignity – it generally means we just have less – so events such as untimely ejections from one’s place of residence can be ruffling affairs. For those who are not accustomed to living with others, it can be a jarring experience to have to move in with a fellow human. Knowing ourselves, and knowing what life has to offer us, it is upsetting to think that we will now have witnesses to our state of being. Up to this point, presumably, we had been living our lives relatively unnoticed and anonymously, sometimes going days without personal contact (hello, fellow introverts).

As someone who has defined themselves on the basis that they do not live with men, preferring instead to visit them in their own home and then leave afterward, the threat of expulsion from one’s lodgings brings with it more than simple debates over paint colour or furniture arrangement; it is the actual dissolution and extermination of identity and existence, the very crux on which all life is based. It is as volatile as the formation and disintegration of the stars upon which our constellations are formed (though an admittedly less attractive sight to behold).

Having the rug pulled from under our feet is a great way to discover the pleasures of backpacking, squatting, and shoplifting at grocery stores. Or, depending on your personality, you may instead ascertain a new appreciation for fridge labels, communal chore-lists, and closet alcoholism as a way to cope with your loss of freedom.

Differences aside, we can’t really get much lower than we already are. So our landlord’s smug attitude notwithstanding, it is not in our best interests to simply go silently into the night. Although that may be where we end up, at least we can make the journey a notch more exciting by putting up a fight. Especially rousing when an eviction falls during the season of a global pandemic, one is pretty much obligated to take advantage of the disorienting effect that goes along with such circumstances.

At least in Canada, evictions are illegal during a state of emergency. When that ends it will be a free-for-all, but as the saying goes, when life hands you lemons, politely return them.

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Protecting the Antiques You Have Successfully Acquired in Life and Do Not Wish to Desecrate

my foray into the adult world of prized possessions

If I haven’t made it clear already, any kind of poop on a wooden or otherwise antique creation, is an atrocity and a crime.  The decent thing to do would be 1) give the furniture up for adoption to a safer home, or 2) cover it with layers of indestructible, impenetrable materials that create a sufficient protective layer so as to preserve the unique qualities your antique undoubtedly possesses.

First off let’s be clear: never punish a bird for destroying your precious possessions: it was your fault your valuables were left out, or left unattended, or not kept bolted down.  I mean really, you were asking for it the moment you brought your bird home.  So the least you can do is batten down the hatches and fortify your bases. 

Are the giant art pieces on your wall getting their frames shredded by happy beaks?  My step-dad solved this problem by taping down tiny cat food tins along the tops of paintings so that no bird could alight.  This was a method similar to the pokey bits installed on top of streetlamps in an attempt to dissuade determined seagulls from settling in, or the awkward lumps on public benches to make a night’s sleep that much more uninviting (let’s be real – we’re still going to do it, we just won’t be comfortable).

In this wood-shredding instance, the tins on the painting in our kitchen added a certain edgy quality to the already unconventional vibe that came with the piece.  They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but it can also be said that art is in the eye of its creator.

Now this antique sewing-machine-in-a-table from my step-dad’s mother (circa 1940), lives with me in a very small space. As I do not have the capacity for tables which are simply antiques and tables that support my birdcages, I have meshed the two: art meets function.  Given the age and value of this delicate creation, I have taken these crucial steps to protect its value and worth:

An ounce of planning is worth a penny of rest, as a famous person once said

The materials need not be costly, as you can see, but just good-looking enough to not stand out. If I’d had the choice, I would not have gone with blue as the bag colour, but we are not all afforded such options. Happy crafting!

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Further Tactics to Foil Your Messy Birdlings

behold, the invention of cardboard

Considering how excited these little beans get over houseplant soil, it’s disappointing to have to ruin their fun.  It’s a struggle as I want my little ones to be free to follow their hearts’ desires, but I have to draw the line at eating dirt and other similar items that belong in the garbage.  We may think our domesticated companions know what’s best for themselves, but the truth is they are so far removed from their wild ancestors, that they would not survive were they to return to the plains of Africa (Banana), the warm climes of the Canaries (Red), the nomadic flocks of Australia (Sky and Yellow), or the arid western coastline of Timor (Puff and Tweedle).

Soil is teeming with fungal spores and bacterial colonies, not to mention toxic fertilizers – none of which should be living in our birds – so it is with a great amount of urgency that I vault across the room when I hear the distinct and unmistakable sound of a beak masticating vermiculite.  To make matters worse, I discovered that not only is Banana a hazard to himself, he also offers lessons to the budgies on the finer aspects of soil selection.  I can’t be angry, because everyone knows that idle beaks are the devil’s playground, so I need to ensure that all beaks are occupied with appropriate and approved bird-safe items, even if we do disagree on the definitions of those words. 

In a desperate attempt at foiling these beaks, I have tried: a) dish towels (so shabby I could hear my property value drop), b) newspapers (those snippy snappers ate right through the editorials into the dirt) and c) bird skirts (merely inconvenient).  But shortly after the newspaper debacle I discovered that cardboard had been invented years before (an embarrassing oversight on my part).  The results were low-effort but high-function, contrary to all my previous endeavours.  My rendition of the design is as follows:

This is just what I did.  You might want to measure where the middle of the plant is so you don’t get something like this.  But because I’m lazy I just carved a bigger and less attractive hole to fit where the actual plant was.  So you basically just make the outer circle as big as your pot… and I’m pretty sure the rest is straightforward.  

Don’t forget to cut a line in the cardboard so you can get it around the plant , and poke some holes in it to promote air flow (one doesn’t want to encourage vicious swarms of fungus gnats to set up shop, which some would argue are as difficult to eject as hippies taking up long-term residence upon one’s couch.  Which reminds me of a joke I heard: How do you know if a hippie has been to your house?  They’re still there.   Much like the fungus gnat).

Maybe next week I will have a prettier version, if I find time to play around with it.  Some cute fabric might look nice glued over the hideous brown of the cardboard.  If you do decide to experiment, just remember to use non-toxic Elmer’s glue, and hide the unfinished seams of your fabric on the underside of the cardboard so no one eats threads.