Birdy

in one day and the first egg is laid that night.
    She lays five eggs again. She sits this clutch rather lightly and I’m half hoping they won’t hatch. I watch Birdie carefully for signs of fatigue but she peeps at me friendlily and, despite a certain frantic air, appears happy and content with her lot. I wonder if she realizes that the whole aviary full of singing, screeching, scrambling birds, with the exception of Alfonso, came out of her somehow. It’s as if it all came out of nowhere. I still can’t believe it.
    The whole clutch hatches again. I have to leave the doors open all the time so Alfonso can help with the feeding. I don’t think Birdie could make it without him. Alfonso keeps the other babies out of the breeding cage and stays with Birdie in the cage most ofthe day and all of the night. I’m getting so I hate to open the boiled eggs in the morning and smash them into the pablum. The smell of the two, mixed with the smell of the fork I mash with, is too much.
    This nest is very dark. There are three as dark as Alfonso and two light ones with head markings. They have the same crowded nest conditions and it’s even hotter. I take Alfonso out as soon as the first bird climbs up to the edge of the nest. I find an old cage at the dump and fix it up. I don’t want to scare him by catching him. I’d certainly lose any points I have if I chase him around the aviary and grab him with my hands. He’d probably bite and give me blood poisoning. So, I put the cage in the aviary with some egg food in it, wait till he goes in on his own, then jump up and close the door.
    I take the cage out of the aviary and hang it over my desk by the window. There’s all kinds of peeping and queeping back and forth. Alfonso is sure I’ve finally shown my true colors. I wonder what he’s telling Birdie about the situation. She’s torn between abandoning the nest for Alfonso and taking care of the babies. She flies over to the screen of the aviary and looks across at him. Alfonso breaks into a song of great bravado. I feel terrible. I hate it when people tell me they’re doing something for my own good, and here I am doing it to Birdie and Alfonso. I’m almost ready to put Alfonso back in the cage and take the chance. But, I know, they’d have another nest and it’d probably kill Birdie. It’s getting time for both of them to go into the yearly molt and they shouldn’t be having babies during this time. It’s a tremendous strain on birds when they molt and change their feathers.
    Birdie finally resigns herself to the fates, that is, me. She goes back to feeding the babies till they get out of the cage. As soon as they’re all down on the floor, I take out the nest. This time, Birdie shows no signs of nesting again. She goes out in the aviary and flies around.
    As soon as the birds are feeding themselves, I remove Birdie from the aviary and take out the breeding cage. I put Alfonso back in with the young ones. I want Birdie to have a complete rest. AnytimeI’m in the room, I let her fly free. It’s like old times. She sleeps in the cage up on the shelf above my bed where it used to be.
    Al and I take the job dogcatching and I make enough money to pay my feed bills. I spend all my free time watching the birds. I’m trying to figure what’s the next thing to do.

When I go for my session with Weiss, I can smell right away he’s going to work on me. I know for sure I’m not going to tell him anything; I’m certainly not going to tell anything about Birdy. I don’t want him to find out about Birdy feeding himself or standing up and walking around. I’m convinced Weiss can’t do Birdy any good. If only I can stay a little longer maybe Birdy’ll come around.
    We salute and he leans back, crosses his hands over his fat stomach and smiles at me. He’s got the folder open on his desk. He has another folder there, too. I’m willing to bet it’s my records from Dix. He’s working himself up a thing OK. There’s nothing I can do but play it by ear. I try to get myself into a good Sicilian mood. I pretend we’re sitting at a cafe in Cambria with sunshine streaming down on us. Weiss is a tribal chieftain from the other side of the hills.
    ‘Well, Sergeant. How did it go yesterday?’
    ‘Fine, sir. I talked to the patient about how we used to ice skate in the winter sometimes. I think he might have been listening to me, sir.’
    ‘What made you think he was listening, Sergeant?’
    ‘Just the way he was