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My buddy

 

Kelly Mahan Jaramillo and Bobby D. the Crow photo by Tomas Hradcky

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Hello – it is the Bob here.  I am wrestling control of my blog back from the Mom – she just goes off on tangents that have nothing to do with the Bird, and I have had it.  She has two other blogs, plus a book to work on, she has plenty to do.

I have been threatening to write a bi-weekly book review for months now, and although I have been reading, as you can see below, I have not reviewed anything.  It has just been too damned hot, I am molting, and my idiot mother seems to think that if I am outside splashing in a bowl of water, that will help me feel better.

(It does, but do not tell her – she thinks she is right about everything).

But my ART is suffering, people!  My VISION!

So, I promise you, we are going to be up and running this week.  As you can see, I am perusing what to review first……

hmmm, which one, which one which one.........

hmmm, which one, which one, which one.........

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And it was.  And he was.

happy-jack-road1

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This is a quiz I like to send to my couple of close friends.

 

Q.  HOW CAN YOU TELL THIS WOMAN USED TO LIVE IN LOS ANGELES?

 

3755-kel-walking-in-snow

 

A. SHE IS WEARING DECK SHOES!

Go ahead and laugh, Bob, the next post will be the picture of you in the snow.

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Just kidding.  Tomas and I went downtown to pick up the Volvo, and the Voter registration place was not far from the Volvo garage, but we were tired and had about a million errands to run that day, so we said we would give them one more day.  If it was not in the mail when we got home, then we were going to start raising hell.

It was in the mail, yahoo.  I have my voter I.D. card, tucked safely away until Nov. 4th.  I really was gearing up to be sent to jail for barging through and voting come hell or high water, but alas, alak – my little Irish drama queen scenario got squashed.

 

On another funny/odd note, my blogs and Tomas’s web page have been visited numerous times from a place in the San Fernando Valley called Phillips Graduate Institute.   I only know one person who works at Phillips Graduate Institute – I wonder why she is spending time at her job, on their computers, obsessively surfing my blogs? She took her money – unlawfully took SSDI money, at that.

 It is a good thing I have a printout of how much time she has spent at work doing this – I may have to send it to Phillips Graduate Institute if she does not stop it, along with proof of stolen SSDI funds.  I do not think they would think too highly of one of their employees surfing the net on their nickel.  Neither would Pierce College.  She might want to think about that……………….

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Way back when we found Bobby, he was a small guy, and when we rescued him, we took him to the Vet, who told us he was somebody escaped pet Mynah Bird.  Mynah Bird?  My grandmother had a Mynah Bird when I was young, and although Bobby did kind of look like my grandmothers bird, we were pretty certain he was a crow.

We took him to another Vet, who also said he was a Mynah Bird, due to some funny sounds he was making that were decidedly un-crow like.  I still did not quite believe it, so we took him home after they tried to patch up his wing, and we decided, well fine, if he was a Mynah Bird, he was going to talk.  

We put up signs in the neighborhood where we found him, advertising a “Found Mynah Bird”, along with his description, a picture and our phone number.

 

Nobody ever called, and to this day, Bobby has never spoken.  When people ask, I tell them that the “Professionals” told us with absolute certainty that he was a Mynah Bird, but to me, he is a crow.

 

But sometimes he makes a little sound that sounds like a “hi!”…….or a little grumble that sounds like “quit it, leave me alone….”

Is it possible that a Mynah Bird can mate with a Crow?  I ask Bob, but the Bird is not talking.

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The Bird is BORED

Before I continue the saga of chasing and ultimately catching Bobby, today I have to say, it was made very clear to me that he was bored, and I couldn’t bribe him with toys or food. He is in the dining room, and I am back in my office, and he is hollering. He hollers at dawn every morning, but that is just to inform us that it is time to wake up. Over the years it has become part of the dreams at the bottom of the sleep cycle. I have a background soundtrack of a crow in my morning dreams, every morning.

But he mellows out once we are up, and usually keeps himself very busy, and I go along my business knowing he is a self sufficient little soul.

If I do this for two days in a row, Bobby starts letting me know that I am neglecting him, and he is about to call 1-800-for-a-bird and report me.

If I still do not pay attention, he will climb down from his condo and walk across the stove and start throwing vitamins, pens, anything in his path. He will attack the bowl of garlic and onions, stabbing holes in them then tossing them onto the floor. He will snatch a corner of the paper towels and roar back up onto his perch, effectively tee-peeing the sink and stove area.

SO – since I am not in the mood to do more cleaning than necessary, I brought him back into the office with me, where he hops around and waits for me to crook my finger at him and say “juh-guh boy” which means, in our human to crow language, “I will pet your head if you come here”.

Problem is, it is so much fun that I stop working on music timing notes and start playing with him.

We shall get back to how this all came about next time. Today, the bird was bored, and my job was to wear him out so he would take a nap and let me work in peace.

See? Not a whole lot different than a three year old child.

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