The Star of the Show

Oh, yesterday how I loved you. Yesterday was the beautiful, marvelous, happy day in which eleven cute little brownies (the human kind, not the chocolate kind) came to see the Funny Farm. They were excited and delighted to arrive and glimpse a llama, an alpaca, a miniature donkey, a miniature horse, two sheep, and three goats. They struggled to keep their active little rear ends on their benches because these eight and nine-year-olds were just so enthusiastic. I loved it. Or I would have loved it if I had actually gotten to witness it.

No, I, Asimov, the beloved and devoted Umbrella Cockatoo of Kathy Gee, found myself shut up in the back of the Jeep enclosed in a little bitty cage sharing the trunk with a bunny and a bunch of cheeping chicks. All right, so I ought to be glad that it was even warm enough that I could go out on display at all. And I ought to be glad that my Kathy is so conscientious about my safety that she didn't leave me out there the whole time to catch a cold. But I admit I've never claimed to be a saint. (Well, maybe I have, but anyway...) I want my cake and eat it too. I wanted to see those little Girl Scouts and not just hear them.

I could hear their giggles, and peals of laughter, and shouts of observation, and random outbursts about their or their families previous animal experiences. I heard them ooh and ahh over the softness of alpaca fur. I heard them vie for their chance to pet Aramis the rambunctious neighing miniature horse. I heard their snorts of disgust when Kathy demonstrated how to clean a bunny's scent glands (and I don't blame them). I heard them attribute my musical demonstrations (okay, loud complaining) coming from the back of the car to the emu, can you believe it?! Emus have none of the finer acoustic qualities that I pride myself on. As you can imagine, I was miffed. Female emus sound like a bass drum and males grunt and growl. You can't even tell it's an emu making the noise. When I want to be heard and you can see me, then you know that it's me making the noise. None of this sneaking, weirdo noise-making for me. Ah hem. Anyway.

The moment came when I was unveiled for their viewing pleasure. And, as you can imagine, they adored me. With a little cracker persuasion (apparently there were no French fries available, but, hey, honestly I'm flexible where food is concerned) I waved, and turned, and kissed, and nodded to their endless delight. Then one of those perceptive and eager little mites asked my Kathy if they could hold me, and, while it hadn't been planned, she complied. A minute or so of holding for each of the girls for what you people call a "photo opportunity" and then a chance to pet my gorgeous feathers and then those girls felt themselves to be in something bordering on Heaven. And that basically ended their Gee Funny Farm experience.

Okay, they did get to practice goat milking with some plastic gloves. And, okay, they did get to watch Kathy milk a goat, but, psh, what's that? Nothing. I was the resolution, the finale, what you might call the star of the show. I only hope they come again soon. Honestly, I think I'm in love.