bird brain

i'm house/pet sitting yet again, at a new location (nice, as always) in the big meadow under red and gold cliffs by my house. anyway, there's a bird at this sit (i've never birdsat before!) and at first it struck me-why would anyone keep a bird? i mean, i can see having chickens, or ducks for that matter, but semi tropical birds don't seem suited to southwestern dry mountain deserts. it just feels somehow selfish and cruel to have bird here.

so, of course it goes now that i'm bonding with said bird. his name is kiko, and he likes spinach (instant connection!). he also likes to sing--i put a few cds on rotation last night while i ate wild asparagus (its here now!) and mushroom risotto with a friend and looked at real estate pictures (because everyone i know is buying a house these days). we were very much occupied, but i noticed kiko singing every now and then. it wasn't until the second time the song came around in the shuffle that i picked up the song he liked to sing to: white winged dove (ooh, baby, ooh, ooh!) by fleetwood mac. he sang right on the parts where the bird was supposed to sing. how awesome is that?

anyway, he actually came out of his cage today and climbed into my hands. this, according to his owners, is very rare. i could feel the twitch of every muscle in his little body, and the racing pulse of his heart. this vulnerable little creature put himself in my hands. after a few moments, i discovered that i was holding my breath. am i worthy of such trust?

sometimes i panic in the face of the responsibility deferred to me during my stays at other people's homes. i wonder, when they return, if i will leave some trace of who i really am, and how foolish they've been to open their lives to me. i don't know myself what that trace would be, but i sense that somehow someone will find it one day.