Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Eleuthera Visitors Guide

On the heels of my tell-all reliving of our favorite vacation of all time, I thought it appropriate to actually tell you about the where, what, when, and whys of this special piece of earth.

Eleuthera, which means "Free" in Greek, is a 110 mile long island, no wider than one mile long, due east of Nassau. It is considered an "Out Island" because it is not one for high volume tourism. I can't tell you why.

Christopher Columbus is thought to have first reached Eleuthera before sailing farther to the West Indies. The original inhabitants of Eleuthera, the Arawak Indians, were "removed" from the island in the early 1500's to work in the mines of Hispaniola. None remained and the island lay uninhabited for 100 + years.

A group of settlers from Bermuda, seeking freedom from social, religious, and economic persecution, settled in Preacher's Cave on the north end of the island. They struggled for many years until these "Eleutherian Adventurers" eventually resettled on Harbor Island or Spanish Wells, both small islands a short boat ride from the main Eleuthera island.

There are many places to stay if you would like to see the island for yourself. Continental, Delta, and American Airlines fly directly into Governor's Harbor, the capital, or into North Eleuthera. The flights connect through Miami or Fort Lauderdale and are not overly expensive. (We bought our tickets this year, on American (shhh!), because the schedule and price was better. Leaving from San Antonio, all the way to North Eleuthera, with two layovers in Dallas and Miami, cost us $520 per person, including all fees and taxes.)

Last time we went we stayed in the Pink House. It has 2 bedrooms, 2 full baths, and around 1200 sq. ft. It is not frilly or fancy but comfortable and well-stocked with just about anything you need. Except food. You have to buy your own food but who cares! Restaurants on the island are few and far between and cost be very expensive, especially for our family of five. We can buy the fixings for peanut butter and honey sandwiches and be set for a week! (Though you don't need to go to that extreme. The stores, though small like convenience stores, are well stocked, a bit pricey, but much cheaper than restaurants. Just buy like a local.)

The Pink House has two twins and one queen bed so it really only sleeps 4. But when Mandy, Wag and her two boys come in February to stay with us it will sleep 9! We're just going to bring blow-up beds and an egg crate for the big kids on the floor.

Oh, and Wallaces' Mom's Car will also be carrying all 9 of us. Three across the front, three in the back, three on laps.

EASY, Wallaces' Mom's Car!!!

If you want to go to a resort where there is a restaurant, pool, bar, and more activities, The Cove is a wonderful getaway. It's not overly pricey and you can stay per night. Most of the cottages are one bed/one bath, and are stylishly appointed. (Check out their website for more details. They may have 2 bedroom efficiency suites.)

There is a nice restaurant on the property at which we always enjoy a great breakfast. They serve lunch and dinner too, and have a fun bar to socialize with some travelers and locals. (The Pink House were we stay is only a short walk through the woods from The Cove and Jerry, ever the socializing type, loves to go hang out at the bar swapping stories on slow, quiet nights.)

The property managers of The Cove are terrific. They have been there for years, raising their two teenage sons in the most spectacular place on Earth. It's really something to see a 16 year old boy, man, yell, "OK! Bye Dad! I'm going to pick up my friend and go fishing!" as he jumps in a fishing boat and roars away into the sunset. Talk about freedom?! (Click on the link to read about these same boys saving a whale!!!!)

The Cove can also arrange for a rental car and off-site excursions if you are interested. They can do those things for you even if you don't stay there.

They have a private beach, many hammocks to lose yourselves in, and peace by the bushel. We love this place.

Or...if you would like to go hard core, you can stay in The Cay House. It's owned by a surfing guy we met and it is the most glorious house on the planet. If you could pull from my brain everything I dream of in a house, it would be this one. (We have not stayed here, but toured it just before it's construction completion. It was like stepping into my best dream. Seriously.....)

But this awesomeness will cost you around $4500 per week and you will have to supply the food. It does sleep 8-10 so you could split the cost with some friends.

It's on Gaulding Beach so you can go out your door and snorkel, scuba dive, kill you some lion fish for dinner, pick sand dollars, or burn yourself to a crisp.

And at the end of the day, come home to your deck and sit and look at this view.

(This house is my first purchase when I win the lottery. Or you can get it for me for Christmas. Thanks.)

If you would like more details or advice about visiting Eleuthera, email me and I'll tell you what I know.

Once you go, your life may never be the same again.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Zoo Beach

Our Bahamas, Part 4:

Zoo Beach

This is Gaulding beach. It's on the Caribbean side of the island so generally the water is calm, clear, and as blue as a crayon. The day this picture was taken must have been windy; see the waves?

On our first visit to this beach, we noticed something crunching softly under our feet as we waded through the shallow water.

When we reached under the sand what we found were dozens, hundreds, millions of sand dollars! And not the dried up kind you can buy at a tourist shop, but alive sand dollars of all sizes and colors.

We spent hours upon hours collecting sand dollars and comparing their colors, patterns, and sizes.

"Look at this one, Mommy! It's huge!"

"Ooooh, Dad! This one is kind of purpley with white spots!"

Paige, ever the organizer, would create small tide pools to hold the most interesting sand dollars while we were busy searching for more examples. One thing about sand dollars though is that they have tiny hairs, cilia, on their bottom side that they use to crawl across and down into the sand. We learned that the hard way when Paige's favorite sand dollar buried itself when she left it in a tide pool. We never could find the little sucker.

Maybe they had heard of us from the hermit crabs and so knew to run away from us as quickly as possible.

Sometimes the sand dollar wasn't the most interesting thing we would find when plucked from it's sandy keep.

This crab was alive, though tiny! No bigger than a pinto bean, this crab put up a mighty fight with its immature little pincher's!

I'm not really sure what this freeloading starfish is. It had finger like projections on the front and sides, and on the bottom were really long clear feelers that propelled the star around quite quickly. After this shot was taken, the star pushed itself upside down and had to be rescued with my hand.

After holding the star on my bare skin for a few minutes, I noticed my fingers starting to tingle. After putting it down, er, throwing it as far away from me as possible, my entire hand went numb for about thirty minutes.

I didn't like that ONE BIT!! (Neurotoxin and no doctors or emergency rooms? Yelp!)

Here's the wanderings of a hermit crab through the sand. I love the sunshine shape it made, the beauty of the design in the sand.

Starfish were plentiful in the shallow waters as were the occasional sea cucumber.

(I mistakenly called it a sea "penis" to Jerry as a joke, and unfortunately the kids heard me. We tried to correct them, but the rest of the trip they too called them sea penises. Especially after one "peed" on Josh, the nickname was stuck.)

On Harbor Island, the "fancy" island were the British Royals go and other snooty rich people, there are wild horses that roam the beaches.

One friendly tourist approached this pack of wild horses with his hand outstretched, I'm sure thinking, "Oh, look at the pretty horses! With all of these people around they must be friendly!"

Yeah.....no. When he got about five feet from the white horse, it reared up on it's back legs and would have stomped that nice ignorant man into the sand if he hadn't been quick on his feet!

This little fellow was also on Harbor Island. He's also lucky to be alive after he tried to steal my conch fritters.

I will rip someones legs off if they mess with my fritters!

Friday, November 26, 2010

Hermit Crabs Beware

"Our Bahamas: Part 3:

Hermit Crab Beach"

In the quaint neighborhood we plan on moving to in four years, there is a fabulous rock and sand beach. It has a name. It's......something. But to us, it's called Hermit Crab beach.

There is not a lot of sand to lay out on or for Jerry to dig holes in, but where there is a lack of soft, pink sand, there is an abundance of hermit crabs.

On our first afternoon in The Bahamas, we donned our suits and went to explore the local beach that is just one block away from The Pink House.

After a few minutes of beach combing we found a few hermit crabs. And then a few more, a few more, more, and more, and holy moly are there a lot of crabs on this beach!

The crabs came in all sizes, from as small as a marble to as large as a tennis ball.

The kids and I had a blast searching for and collecting our invertebrate friends.

At one point, because I am both a science nerd and a homeschooler in training, we decided to make a terrarium for our collection of hermit crabs.

We collected rocks, sand, and shells from the beach and put in a handful of poor, unsuspecting crabs.

It was my bright idea to paint the backs of the shells and then try and take the crabs out of their shells to see which crab would go back into which shell.

Kind of a lesson in dominance and futility.

Just in case you didn't know, hermit crabs will not come out of their shells unless they want to. If you try to pull them out with eyebrow tweezers you will pull off their legs or claws.

I am very sorry, crabs #2, 6, and 8.

After our science experience failed with a few crab casualties, we decided to just leave them be and study their behavior.

A few hours the crabs had all managed to escape their pan of death and wandered off to some unknown location of relative safety.

By the end of our three week stay, when we would go down to Hermit Crab beach, we couldn't find a single hermit crab.

Maybe the kids had "picked" them all. Maybe they were hiding. Maybe they ran away.

Whatever the reason, the hermit crabs of Hermit Crab beach better watch out. Phoebe is two now, so there will be three crazy redheads running around collecting them.

Until Sam and Carson come and then their will be FIVE redheaded kids.

The crabs don't stand a chance.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Jerry Should Have Been a Marine

Continuing the tour of Our Out Inland in a non-boring fashion, I bring you:

"Our Bahamas: Part 2:

Jerry Should Have Been a Marine"

In case you didn't know, Marines are known for their holes. These men and women are taught from day one how to dig a good hole. Holes for hiding, holes for pooping, holes, holes, holes.

While in The Bahamas, Jerry must have been tapping his latent Marine spirit as he dug holes in every beach we went to. No beach trip was complete without a nice, big hole.

Sometimes the holes morphed into sculptures as evidenced by this mountain man that spewed sea water with each rush of surf.

But most of the holes were simple and straightforward. Simply straight down. And DEEP!

Here's a live action shot of Jerry quickly digging a giant hole. (I did not clean it up because on this day the kids were going neckers.)

One thing you should know about beaches is that voices carry forever across the water and sand. As Paige, Phoebe and I came back from a walk along Ben Bay beach, I heard Jerry telling Josh, "Hurry! I'm going to dig this hole really deep so we can hide in it and scare the girls!"

As we approached the hole we could hear snickers, laughter, and snorts.

Let me tell you, they were so NOT sneaky!

(Look at Josh's face. He's having the absolute time of his life!)

Oh, look girls! THERE they are!

You boys are so sneaky! (NOT!)

Yes, honey, you ARE the man!

Nice hole, by the way.

Oh, no! Not you, too Wag!!!

From this trip I learned that Jerry would have made a great Marine.

Or, a Jack Russell terrier.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Wallaces' Mom's Car

In honor of our upcoming TWO WEEK vacation to "The Land Where Our Hearts Live", I've decided to enlighten you to the fabulousness which is Eleuthera.

Like zoo or birthday pictures, peoples beach and vacation pictures can be quite boring to look at if you were not directly involved in the trip. So I will try not to bore you by being creative about my presentation.

With that, I give you: "Our Bahamas, Part 1:

Wallaces' Mom's Car"

This is Wallace's Mom's car. It's a Chevrolet of unknown model and year. It has at least two-tone paint, maybe more as I don't have any pictures of the other side. It has four doors, seats six, and a trunk big enough to old a seventh, and unlucky, passenger.

Two years ago, when Phoebe was only 6 months old, we spent three weeks in The Bahamas as we "practiced" Out Island living.

Before our arrival, we called our friends at The Cove, and our friend Wallace, the bartender/local/hook-up man, agreed to find us a loaner car for our stay. As this part of the island is not very touristy, there are not many car rental companies, and the ones we knew of wanted WAY too much per day for their Jeeps, we thought we would do better by hiring locally.

When we arrived at the airport, there she was, Wallace's Mom's car!

We arrived in Governor's Harbor, it was late afternoon and we would have a 45 minute ride up to our house. Before leaving GH, we stopped at the local market to stock up on food and supplies. With our mountains of luggage already in the trunk of the car, we had to squeeze our purchases into any available nook or cranny we could find.

There were bags across the floorboards, 2 gallons of milk sat shotgun with me, bags across the back dash, and a few stuffed under the seats.

On the way out of town we passed a liquor store. Jerry ran inside to pick up some rum and other "essentials" before our drive North.

Jerry has never bought the appropriate amount of anything in his entire life.

Thirty minutes later (OMG I was so mad at him! I knew he was in there just flapping his lips with the locals), he finally came out with three brown paper bags overflowing with alcoholic purchases.

"What in the world did you buy so much for? We don't drink but a cocktail or two a week!?" I asked/yelled quietly at him. "Mandy and Wag are coming soon! I wanted to make sure we had enough!" he replied.

Somehow we managed to find MORE nooks and crannies for our hooch.

Until the local came out carrying our case of beer.

That's right. My husband who rarely if ever drinks beer, bought an entire case!!!

But since all of our nooks and crannies were full, where were we going to put it?

I tried to tell Jerry to just return it or come back for it another day, when the local came up with a brilliant solution:

"Here. Put it here. The boy can just sit on it."

Yep. In that picture above, the reason Josh is sitting so high is because he rode 45 minutes on dark and winding roads with no seat belt ATOP A CASE OF BEER!!!

(A lack of seat belt laws is one of the reasons we love the place. Those laws really get annoying! I know, I know, they're supposed to protect our children, yada yada. But I'll believe it when kids on school buses going 65 mph on the highway actually use seat belts, too.)

I wasn't thrilled with the situation, truth be told. I told Jerry, "If we get into an accident and my boy dies for a case of beer, I'm going to kill you. Kill you dead!"

But we didn't get into an accident, and wouldn't you believe it, by the time we left three weeks later all of the beer, and other "party makers" had been consumed.

(Jerry is very generous with his stuff and gave most of it away to new and old friends we had on the island.)

(At least that's my story. And I'm sticking to it!)

Many of the best beaches to visit, the empty ones that stretch for miles with nary a soul in sight, are not easy to get to.

First, you have to know where you're going. There is one main highway that runs the 112 mile length of the island, called the Queen's Highway. It is paved and mostly very well maintained. But to reach the hidden spots you have to leave the highway and drive, sometimes for miles, on unpaved, uneven, narrow, and sometimes scary dirt roads.

Most tourists would require a 4 wheel drive vehicle with high clearance to reach these magical spots. But not Jerry! He really is a wonder behind the wheel. With much grace, finesse, planning, luck, and mad skill, he was able to transverse the most difficult roads without scratching, bumping, or otherwise maiming poor Wallace's Mom's Car.

Sure, the car bumped up and down, and since we were mostly unstrapped, WE bumped up and down, often with a squeal and an, "EASY, WALLACE'S MOM'S CAR!!!!!!!"

We had so much dang fun riding around in that car!

The ride to Ben Bay beach was pretty flat and easy.

What a perfectly fantastic place that is!

The road to Surfer's Beach WASN'T easy. But worth every snail crawl, shimmy, and shake along the way.

No matter the location or destination however, at the end of the day, Wallace's Mom's Car got us home safe and sound.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

20 Things about Hippos

1. The word hippopotamus comes from the Greek words meaning "river horse".

2. Hippos are megafauna(large animals), more closely related to whales than any other terrestrial animal.

3. Hippo fossils have been found that date back to Africa 16 million years ago.

3. Hippos are artiodactyls, even-toed ungulates. They have 4 toes in which toes 3 and 4 bear most of their weight. Other artiodactlys include pigs, cattle, camels, and deer.

4. Adult hippos do not swim because of their low specific gravity. They propel themselves through the water by pushing off of the bottom.

5. Males continue to grow throughout their lives that range 40-50 years.

6. The oldest known hippo was a female named Tanga who lived to 61 years old at the Munich, Germany zoo.

7. Boom chicka wow wow! Hippos are one of the few mammals to mate underwater. The female stays submerged during the, um, process, only emerging to breathe.

8. Hippos surface for breath every 3-4 minutes and will automatically surface even while sleeping.

9. Hippos rarely eat aquatic plants, instead they emerge from their watery homes to forage on land for short grasses up to five miles away from their water territories.

9.5. That sentence above contains 6 prepositional phrases.

10. Male hippos fight for dominance over pods of females, young, and submissive younger males. Hippos are not territorial on land.

11. Hippo legend states that after God created all of the animals the hippos pleaded to God to let them live on the bottom of rivers to hide from the other animals who laughed at their ugliness. Afraid they would eat all of the fishes, God said no. The hippos counter-offered God, promising to become vegetarians, only eat on land, open their mouths wide to the sky when they are done to show there are no fish in their mouths, and allowing fish to clean the inside of their mouths after they are done eating to show how gentle they are. God agreed and that's why hippos are river horses.

12. Fish really do clean the inside of a hippos mouth after eating. The fish also nibble parasites and fungi off of the hides of the hippos as do some birds when they are on land.

13. Hippos are relatively high in numbers but land encroachment and poaching is a constant threat.

14. Hippo canine tusks are made of ivory.

15. Hippos are the most dangerous animal in Africa. They can run up to 30 mph and unlike other animals they are highly aggressive.

16. The Ancient Egyptians had a hippo-headed Goddess named Tawaret who protected pregnancy and childbirth owning to the intense bond between mother hippo and her calves.

17. Hippos at the San Antonio Zoo are so fun to watch!

18. If you can see them through all of the smeared fingerprints, dried boogers, and lick marks on the glass of their tank.

19. Hippos poop in the water. They are gross.

20. Humans are grosser.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

The Parent Trapped Pre-release

Before I started Chronicling The Desert, I was The Parent Trapped. My first blog which lasted a year, was my first venture into the blogging world and began simply enough as a desire to connect, vent, and commiserate with anyone willing to read my words. I enjoyed blogging very much while learning many new things about electronics and myself while also rescuing my brain from a slow Dora the Explorer demise.

When we moved to Del Rio this summer, I realized my Trapped-ness seemed to be relieved by the desert. That's when I realized Suburbia had been making me feel Trapped, not so much my kids and domestic responsibilities as I once assumed. You know, when you "assume", you make an "ass out of U and Me".

Anyway, that's when I decided to continue blogging but with less trappings and more Chronicling.

The Desert Chronicles is doing well and I'm enjoying it just as much as I enjoyed The Parent Trapped.

But it's time for me to release some memory space from blogger so I have to delete The Parent Trapped soon. But I didn't want it to just languish on my hard drive or on a disk somewhere, so I turned it into a book!

I made one book that is the complete blog, no editing, no fixing, just the blog as it really was. I have that one and only copy. It's really, really rough.

Next, I'm making an edited version where I deleted some of the junk, fixed some of the mistakes, and cleaned it up a bit. It will be finished late this week. Hopefully.

This second edition I will release to the public! I will give you all the details when it is ready.

In honor of the release, I have decided to post a few of my The Parent Trapped entries.

Enjoy the first re-issue today!

(Warning: The Parent Trapped was a bit edgier, more crass, sometimes ugly, and often offending. But it was fun, and sometimes funny. Or so I've been told!)


Redneck Baby, Part Doo (originally posted July 23, 2009)

This next blog consists of the grossest story ever to find its way onto the Internet. Really, extra nasty. Just a warning. If you are totally grossed out it's not my fault. Leave now if you can't handle some serious nasty business.

Here goes:

The other day we were on the beach, again, with all three kids fully clothed. (Yeah! Cheers in the background!) We were all having a swell time, playing in the sand, body boarding, snacking, and the baby bouncing around in her bucket of seawater. We were just happy as a lark minding our own business.

When the baby started fussing in her bucket I took her out and set her down in the sand. She started crab walking (hands and feet) toward the low tidal pool where all the other little ones like to migrate. (And now the skim boarders. Where the HELL did all these tween boys come from? Is that really a sport, anyway? Throwing a thin piece of plywood onto the low surf then jumping on and riding it until you fall flat on your ass or face? It's taking up MY beach, please move along.) Any who.....

Baby and I are playing happily in the water with Middle child who is taking a break from having Dad spin him in insane circles on his boogie board. We're bouncing, laughing, having a great time until I see a cloud following the baby's butt. Since it's kind of yellow, I'm thinking it's pee. We ALL pee in the ocean. When a mom who has been sitting all afternoon suddenly gets up, goes waist deep in the water while pretending to "jump" the waves, then suddenly gets out just as fast? Yep. She's peeing. The boy who is standing on the shoreline with his legs slightly apart while staring into space. He's not meditating. Pee city. My oldest plays no games about it. She marches out to the water, squats down and let's it rip. Piss-ola.

With pee on my mind I swash away the cloud trailing the baby, then on a whim, I check her swim diaper. OH MY GOD!! With one teeny peek thirteen raisins, 157 undigested blueberry skins, and four billion ppm of crap come SWIMMING out of the back of her swim diaper! I almost gag on the spot! Oh my god now what do I do? I grab the baby in the obvious "she's crapped her pants" hold, (you know, with one hand holding a shoulder and the other hand holding the opposite leg), and run-walk her to our chairs.

On the way, Mr. Wonderful playing in the surf catches my death glare I'm shooting him, and comes up asking, "What the hell is going on?" "I need some effing HELP!!" I plead in my most unsexy pleading/demanding voice. (When there is floating baby shit in the tidal pools there is NO room for manners or sexy talk, believe me!) He asks what's wrong when, no offense, any mom in her right mind would take one look at the babies position in my arms and know exactly what's wrong. But he's a Dad and great at lots of things but not aerial poop avoidance maneuvers. So I quietly scream the situation and it sounds something like this....

......"THE BABY-SHE CRAPPED IN THE TIDAL POOL! THERE'S POOP FLOATING AROUND, ALL AROUND THE OTHER MOMS AND BABIES! WHAT DO WE DO?" 1. Should I get the fishing net and "pretend" to scoop up fish when in fact I'm scooping baby poop? 2. Do I alert the lifeguard so he can blow his whistle, put up the black flag meaning water contamination so 5ooo other people's days are ruined? 3. Do I do nothing about the doo?

As we folded flat a lounge chair, stripped the baby, fielded curious questions from kid #1 and #2, and wiped up the biggest mess, we decided to go with option number 3. We did NOTHING!! I repeat, we left that baby poop just floating in the tidal pool with moms and kids and skim boarders all around. Oh my Lord I am so ashamed! Let me explain to you our thinking....

1. The poop was very runny so there wasn't much solid waste to recover.
2. The tidal pool was still "attached" to the ocean so fresh water was constantly flowing through the area and spreading around the "debris".
3. The closest third parties were 10-15ft. away.
4. The baby had no illness or contagious GI infection for someone else to catch if they were exposed to her feces.
5. Skimming the pool with a net would only reinforce the "Oh, that baby must have pooped", theory of anyone watching our abrupt exit from the area.
6. Why let a little poop ruin everyone else's day?

The damage was done, the baby was clean, so Jerry goes to rinse his hands in the water bucket we have for the baby to play in. Only, now it's cloudy and yellowish. EWWWWWWWWWWWW! After pulling his hands out, we both almost barf, and he says, "Um. Maybe I should put new water in this. What do you think?" Um, YEAH! EWWWW. Just think about it. Rinsing your hands in baby poop water!? AHH!!

The story ends with Jerry taking the babe into the ocean to rinse her off, dumping the poop-water bucket into the same ocean, and then burying a small but noticeable trail of pooh in the sand that leads from the bucket to the tidal pool. Then hand sanitizer, more hand sanitizer, a quick "Please forgive us for what we do" prayer, and then on with the fun.

I told you. Super GROSS!

Want to hear the really gross thing? Do you have any idea how often that probably happens? At the community pool, at the spray-ground, or at the beach? From a nerdy scientific point of view... Thank GOD our immune systems work as well as they do or we would be in.......


Saturday, November 20, 2010

Jerry's Lorikeet Experience

Just when we thought we'd seen it all at the zoo, we stumbled across another hands on, children friendly exhibit: The Lorikeet Experience!

(We are usually bird-haters. Not that we really hate birds but we're like typical families that enjoy the big five; lions, elephants, giraffes, zebra, and rhinos at the zoo. In our extensive zoo experience if you've seen one aviary you've seen them all!)

Lorikeets are like hummingbirds in that they drink nectar from flowers with their long protruding tongues and help pollinate the flowers they feed from.

Just outside the entrance doors to the exhibit is a concession stand that we've noticed is always very crowded. We thought it must have great hot dogs or something!

But once inside the Lory house we saw signs for nectar; only $1.25 at the concession stand.

Oh, that explains it!

Once you have your little cup of nectar, the lories will drink it right out of you hand. They have no fear. They have no manners. They do have pecking orders and will fight each other for the freshest cup of nectar, no matter how many times Jerry tries to feed the meekest bird.

Jerry held Phoebe so I could take pictures of the loud, messy mayhem.

OK. This is boring.

Let's play a game!!!!!

I'll post a picture and you have to choose the correct caption!



1. What is Jerry thinking?

A. This bird is so pretty!
B. Phoebe better be having a good time, this thing is messy!
C. I could be flying, I could be playing on the Internet, I could be napping!
D. If this bird poops on my back I'm gonna be pissed!

2. What is Jerry saying to me?

A. If that bird gets any closer to my face I'm gonna pimp slap it.
B. Phoebe is heavy.
C. Whose idea was this?
D. If this bird poops down my back I'm gonna be really pissed!

3. What is Jerry afraid of?

A. The bird pecking his face.
B. Spiders
C. Phoebe getting pecked by the bird.
D. This bird crapping on his new shirt.

4. Now what is he thinking?

A. Great. Another bird.
B. If you don't put that camera away and get this bird off of me I'm going to poop down your back!
C. The things we do for love....
D. Seriously, if this bird poops on me I'm going to go ballistic!

5. Now what?

A. How much more nectar can this bird drink?
B. Why did I buy so many cups of nectar?
C. Lord give me strength!
D. Oh, forget it. Just poop on me already!

If you answered "D" you are correct! Give yourselves a gold star!

We had fun in the lorikeet house, getting scared by low-flying birds with personal space issues, feeding birds with aggressive tendencies too much nectar, and watching the kids crack up when the dude in front of us got a huge turd right on his head!

In case you're wondering, Jerry did not get pooped on. This time.

But we'll be back to feed the lories so they can try, try, try again!