Companions do communicate

Every little thing we do sends a message.

Companions do communicate

There's something comforting and familiar in the sound of a neighbor mowing their lawn.

There's a preening macaw on my head.  There's also a lovely cascade of white fluff feathers and feather casings drifting downward in front of my face.  It's like a snowy Christmas morn. If a snowy Christmas morn includes 2 pounds of macaw on your head.

Felix is one foot up on his tent that's parked to my left. He's trying to fall asleep, but I keep trying to catch him falling asleep. So he can't fall asleep because he refuses to let me catch him.

There's a piggles 15 feet away giving me the hairy eye over the top railing of his piggles condo. This could mean I failed with the morning breakfast greens. I failed with the timothy/orchard hay. I failed with the pellet ratio, or I failed to scratch his nose long enough.  Whatever the cause, by the looks of him, I'm in big piggles trouble.

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