On the avian front, Iris is finally growing her tail feathers back (she molted and quit laying a month ago). She no longer resembles a giant Guinea Hen. This morning at first light the local gang of rogue feral parrots swarmed our end of the street, squawking and hooting and calling maniacally to each other for about a half hour. Gordon says the crows were a bit befuddled by it all. Unless you were raised in a jungle, it's pretty near impossible to sleep through such a racket. I didn't. Gimli sat out in the front yard looking up in to the parrot infested trees with a stunned expression.