No Empty Nest Here

Drat!  Celeste moved while I was trying to find the camera in the dark.  She had been lying on the pillow to the left, Bessie's usual spot.  That left Bessie very little room to move over after her nightly back rub, so Bess squeezed into the middle, leaving very little room for me on the right.  A strange phenomenon happens when an animal settles in; they suddenly gain a ton of weight and become immoveable.  If they give any notice at all, it is to open one eye and say, "Wha?  You talkin' to me?"  Trying to change position last night, one leg was pinned.  Finally dislodging the weight that held me down (the struggle woke me up), I flipped over and was immediately rammed again by whichever cat was chilly and wanted to snuggle.  I suppose I should be grateful for the little space the furries give me in this nest I call "my" bed.

I thought the adolescent barn sparrows' squat-and-flutter dance was funny, but nothing compared to a bluejay birdlett, and a young crow outdoes them all.  While on a phone call yesterday, suddenly there was such a racket of squawking and screeching outside that I had to go make sure something was not attacking the chickens.  It was so loud that the other party on the line could hear.  Turned out to be a teenage crow, obviously feeling a sense of entitlement and giving his parents hell because their service was slow.  All three were on the ground by the feeding station, with Baby stamping his feet and yelling in a classic temper tantrum.  While staying close, the parents turned their back on their kid and let him wear himself out.  They'd evidently decided that it was time for Baby to fend for himself, but didn't want him to come to harm.  When the kid saw that his antics had no effect, he shut his beak and flew up into the tree to pout.  Having raised their chick to adulthood, the parents flew off in another direction; probably a vacation in Hawaii.  I doubt they'll suffer from "empty-nest" syndrome.