#For anyone interested: They're pretty sure birds were to blame

[everythingunderthesky]

Excuse me, I think you dropped this?

1 [You are here!] 3 4 5 6 

[happyk44]

Just thinking about Todoroki seeing his classmates get together and yearning for something similar but the only person who isn't taken that he mildly likes is a certain spiky blonde who has displayed no physical interest in anyone.

It's easy with everyone else. He's picked up the signs. Blushing faces, stammers, longing glances. Most of it culminates into a mutual courtship but for the most part, some of it fades and wanes into the next crush.

He doesn't really get it.

He wonders if Bakugou doesn't get it either.

Maybe that's why he doesn't turn red unless he's screaming and why he doesn't preen himself like a bird when someone specific comes in the room. He never stammers. He's too confident. He sweats but he always sweats.

The more Todoroki watches him, the more he can tell that Bakugou is pretty. He knows what pretty is - what other people say it is at least - and Bakugou fits.

But it's somewhat more than that, isn't it? It's not just his face, it's his voice. There's a deep melody to it even it's only heard when he's hollering. And he has nice hands. Sure, they're calloused and tough, but always clean, deliberate black fingernail polish on his nails.

He smells good too. Strong. Like caramel.

He's never been one for sweets but Todoroki is always a little tempted to lick him just to see if it is anyway.

And his hair looks stiff but he's grazed it enough times to know how soft it really is. Uraraka is obsessed with Midoriya's curls and, if Todoroki transposes that onto someone else, he understands why. There's this forbidden element in Bakugou's whole stature. Off limits to everyone.

And he's pretty.

And Todoroki likes him in all his screeching brash honesty and aggressive manic grins and sparking popping hands and swears so dirty his sister would plug his mouth with soap

"Take a picture, Icy Hot," he seethes and Todoroki blinks out of his staring. Bakugou stares him down. "It'll last longer."

He cocks his head and then does so. Bakugou's face burns and he swats Todoroki away, snapping at him with no real heat. Todoroki bounces back and leans against the counter again.

Bakugou is always focused when he cooks. Can he blame him for staring?

"We should date."

Bakugou's hand goes so white around his spoon, for a moment Todoroki is certain he's going to snap the wood in half. "Hah?"

Todoroki pockets his phone. "Everyone else is dating."

Bakugou rolls his eyes. "So, what? You're a fucking sheep now, Two-tone?"

"No." With his eyes, he traces the outline of Bakugou's arm - the way his muscles twitch under his skin.

"You sure fucking sound like it," Bakugou mutters. "Everyone else is dating so we should. Ha!" He snorts - an ugly sound if it were on anyone else. "As if."

"Do you not like boys?"

Bakugou waps at him with the spoon again. Todoroki flees to the other side of the kitchen, spicy red sauce stinging his wrist. He licks it off his skin and resists the urge to hiss. It's really hot.

Bakugou watches him with a careful eye before turning back to his food. "Who I do and don't like is none of your business, Weak Tongue."

That's a new one. Todoroki chews on the edge of his tongue to regain any sensation that has now been dulled before answering.

"You like me."

Bakugou looks a second from blowing off his head. A usual reaction when Todoroki says they're friends. It's been a year of it though and his reactions have toned down.

He doesn't scream denials anymore.

That should count for something.

"I tolerate you," Bakugou snaps back. "I tolerate all of you."

Well, that's not true. He's not the opposite of who he used to be but he's changed. He doesn't growl during rescue training as much as he used to. He teams up with the others effortlessly - even if he still grumbles and shouts at them. And, although testy about it, he does let others take the lead when needed. Infrequently and only a couple people - Midoriya, Iida, and Momo.

Everyone else is usually relegated to "convince me and maybe I'll listen" but even then, it's more than what it was.

He stretches his sleep schedule on weekends to hang out with the class and his own little group. He helps with studies.

He even cooks when asked - although it does take a little praise to convince him but it's very rarely a lie when it's done.

"You like me," Todoroki corrects and he ducks when Bakugou aims a small burst at his head.

The smell of burnt hair singes above him but he pats his head and feels nothing on fire and so counts himself lucky. He took out the entire top of Kirishima's hair once. Although he looked quite nice when Mina evened it all out. And it seemed the connection over hairstyling is what brought them together in the first place.

"Say it again," Bakugou hisses, "and next time I won't miss."

He's still prickly about friendship but if Todoroki cared about that, he wouldn't be doing this.

"We should date," he repeats, taking a tentative step forward.

Midoriya's self-sacrificing tendencies must be rubbing off on him.

"I don't date extras," Bakugou says.

Todoroki pauses. "How do I stop being an extra then?"

There's a pinched look to Bakugou's face that screams "don't kill him, don't kill him, don't kill him" and it's presence makes him warm.

Something to work through later but for now he settles into that feeling and steps closer and closer until he's pressed into Bakugou's personal space.

Bakugou cuts his eyes at him. "Back up." Todoroki does. By an inch or so and Bakugou seethes. "Annoying," he mutters.

But he doesn't tell Todoroki to back off anymore. So he hovers.

The silence isn't palpable but it is tense. It cuts around Todoroki's throat like a noose, attached visibly to the flexing fist at Bakugou's side.

Bakugou stirs his sauce without word and Todoroki hovers nearby. His heart beats with every thump of the spoon against the pan. It's a near quiet sound but in the silence it feels all too audible.

Maybe this wasn't his smartest thought.

"Why do you want to date anyway?" Bakugou says at last. "Because, as is fucking obvious, if I did date, I wouldn't date a fucking sheep."

"I'm not a sheep," Todoroki mutters. He wrings his wrist. "Everyone else just seems so happy."

"So? You need to do what everyone else is doing?" Bakugou smacks him, a short shot from the back of his hand up against his chin. His head knocks back but Bakugou keeps going. "That's a sheep."

"I think it would be nice to see why."

Bakugou snorts as he turns off the heat. The sauce is bubbling and he gives it a final stir before spooning it into a still hot bowl of rice. "Get a fucking clue and maybe I'll think about it."

He drags over the other bowls he'd laid out for his so-called squad and spoons the rest of the sauce into them. "And ask me better next time, idiot." He cuts his eyes at him, a ferocity in them that sends a chill down Todoroki's spine. "I don't take to demands."

"It was more of a suggestion."

"Do I look like I give a shit?"

He did not.

Todoroki shifts. "No," he says. "That's what I like about you." Bakugou pauses, his shoulders tensing. "You don't care about things like that. It's weirdly calming."

Bakugou snorts. "You sound like my old man." His eyes cut him again. "I'm not gonna date my old man, Icy Hot."

"I wouldn't want you to." Todoroki reaches up, grabs a box of rice crackers out of the cabinet and holds it to his chest with both hands. "Enjoy your dinner, Bakugou."

He's halfway out of the kitchen when a fork smacks him in the back of the head. "Oi, dumbass."

Bakugou points at one of the bowls. "You can't live on rice crackers alone, idiot."

He brushes past Todoroki with a rough push, his free hand hot against Todoroki's skin. Their fingers just barely glide across each other. Todoroki stills, catching Bakugou's eyes as he grins, all teeth bared. Then Bakugou turns and shouts out into the living room for his "incapable extras" to go feed themselves.

Todoroki is gone before they can even notice he grabbed a bowl for himself.

[rayveewrites]

Spoilers for Last Life.

Thinking about how the demigod Cleo thing would fit with it... I imagine it wouldn't change much. Cleo's not one to use her strange abilities to gain an advantage, at least not in this sense. Sometimes it's hard to tell where the zombie ends and the godly begins, but after 500 years she's pretty good at telling the difference.

Cleo has her own set of morals. She's fiercely loyal to her allies; to the death if it comes to it. She'll never turn on you unless you turn on her, but she'll do so with a vengeance. And she's not much of a liar. She's honest- extremely, brutally honest in a lot of cases. And in a sense she holds the others to a similar standard- she doesn't really expect them to always tell her everything, but she does expect a decent level of honesty.

And then BigB stabs her in the back. Literally and figuratively, and. well. It's more about the principle than anything.

She's on Red now. She could probably blame Joel for that, but Joel was open about what he was up to. He's sneaky, sure, but he was a known risk. BigB was her closest ally.

She doesn't use her powers to gain an advantage. She swore that to herself years ago. She can handle the Red better than anyone- it's not so different from a zombie's Hunger, after all. It still messes with her head a bit, though.

She stares at the castle- her castle. The one she built with her own hands. She sees movement, and knows exactly who's up there. Who doesn't deserve to be there. Fury boils in her motionless chest.

She doesn't use her powers to gain an advantage. But what's stopping her from using them to scare? What's stopping her from giving BigB a taste of her true form, of what he actually angered?

Nothing.

-

BigB sleeps lightly that night. Guilt and fear is an interesting mix, and even when he does doze off, he's plagued by nightmares of burning red eyes, green eyes, he doesn't know which, they're one and the same. He wakes up early, and he smells blood. There's writing on the wall, jagged letters painted in blood.

WATCH YOUR BACK.

He's scared. Of course he is. Who wouldn't be? He steps outside, heart in his throat. There's a dead cow on Cleo's his the doorstep. Something's torn into it with claws the size of the Ender Dragon's, strewn its remains all over the mountaintop, hung organs like tinsel on a tree. Patches of skin are tinged green from unknown venom.

It's not like Cleo's usual work; her cuts on the chickens were always clean, efficient, perfect for getting as much edible meat as possible from the birds. She does it with a skill born from years of practice, of trial and error. This is brutal, destruction for the sake of it, done by talons much larger than the zombie's claws.

He hides away inside, tries to clean the bloody writing off the wall, tries not to think about what he did.

WATCH YOUR BACK.

They're carved into the stone.

-

He hides with Ren. Cleo's discussed numerous times how flammable the fairy fort is, and he doesn't want to give her any more motivation to prove it.

He wakes up one night in a sweat to see Cleo standing over his bed. Her glowing eyes stare down at him, and, he thinks hazily, into his soul.

Is it his imagination, or is something wrong with her shadow? Part of him knows the answer. Part of him doesn't want to know the answer.

And then she's gone. He feels something on his head- a helmet? No.

He feels it pressing against his cheeks, his jaw, his ears. He touches it, and his hand comes away stained black. It's a wither skeleton's skull. He can't take it off.

Cleo has marked him for death.

[xanderwithanx]

Chloe does night-time diary posts on HER tumblr, so I'm going to start doing them here, sometimes. It would be nice if you read it, but, please, don't feel obligated! This is more for me to write.

(I got tired of my normal journal, I guess. It's full of bad poetry anyway. Besides, where's the thrill of losing anonymity in a physical notebook?)

I've basically been asleep and depressed for several days, because I had withdrawal after not being able to get my adhd meds. But, I got it today, and DID THINGS. (This is SO much better than before!)

Today, I went to a small café or restaurant (focused on tea) called Alice's Teacup that was Alice in Wonderland themed! My long-standing obsession with Alice in Wonderland knows no bounds. It was a really cute place. I got pumpkin pancakes, and some really good iced tea. Like... REALLY good iced tea.

Still, it seemed like the entire place was geared towards having a pot of tea and snacks with your friends, which left me a bit lonely. The person I asked couldn't come, and by the time I heard back, I was more than halfway there. Still, I read Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and watched Monty Python on my phone, so I still had a good time!

I dressed pretty eccentricly and effeminately all day, but, with my facial hair, I was ALWAYS coded as a man, even by people on the street! Pastels, a stupid hat, a crop top, and facial hair was a winning combination.

On my way, I was stopped by some guys soliciting for charity. I don't make a habit of stopping for strangers on the streets of Manhattan. What if it's a scam? What if I'm being pressured to buy something? What if it's a strange political rant? But, I had already taken my earbuds off, I wasn't in a hurry, and I'm terminally polite. The first guy said he liked my energy, which seemed to come from a genuine place, because I liked his too!

They were asking for donations for a breast cancer charity, the United Breast Cancer Foundation. After a discussion, it seems like the charity helps pay medical debt, medical bills, and other practical needs, which is much better than *some* others I could name. I regretted not being able to give their minimum there, as it was pretty high, but told them I'd give what I could when I got on the website.

I... did not. Money is tight, because I'm bad and irresponsible with money, even though this is more than a worthy cause. I didn't NEED to go to that tea place, and I don't NEED to spend so much money on food. Sure, I can justify it: I wanted to go to that place for so long, and it was near the college anyway! But, if I was responsible with money, you KNOW my friends direct fundraising drives would go first, worthy charities second. Still, I feel bad about it.

Then, I went to the college library, to get books to start my thesis research. I have literally been unable to go to the college itself, aside from getting my ID, so this was great! There just wasn't a reason. It was... very empty. I went to the library stacks, which was deathly quiet and deeply haunted by the old books. I half expected something to pop out at me, as I turned the stacks, but I wasn't even paranoid or anxious. It was like I was in something else's house. I was welcome, but on thin ice.

I picked up an irrelevant psychology book on the "schizophrenia problem" from the 1930s, out of morbid fascination, and quickly put it down when it threatened to shatter in my hands.

Some students walked past (which was a suprise in those monastic basement library stacks), and I added something to their conversation, in a totally natural and casual way. But, omg the poor girls, I made them jump! Luckily, I'm the least threatening person on earth, and we laughed it off.

After a lot of hunting, I got 5 out of my 10 books (for the most part)! (The rest are, sadly, online. I like to read physical copies.) Strangely, I only came in with a list to get 3 books out of 6.

Most of the books I got are about art in the AIDS crisis, which is the core of my thesis, I think, all with different value. One about exhibitions, one about the larger narrative of those gay artists, and another contradicting the larger narrative.

I also got a book about "Art and Homosexuality". Just, the parallel construction of both "art" and "homosexuality" across cultures and times, from earliest history to the modern age. It wasn't on my initial list, but I'm really excited to read it.

Finally, I got a book called "The Thief, the Cross and the Wheel", about the pain and spectacle of punishment in Medieval and Renaissance European art. I'm mainly interested in Italian Renaissance art of the crucifixion--and its masochism--for the second quarter of my thesis.

The rest are online, and Should mostly focus on Bacchus in the Italian Renaissance (especially through art) and what I call the art of "gay liberation", concurrent with the AIDS crisis (i.e. The Cockettes). These two topics make up the last half of my thesis.

I'm SO excited to get started!!

I even got to cross the college's sky-bridges! (The college is a few skyscrapers.) Still, the loneliness and novelty were kind of the same thought. Imagine if I had been here before COVID, or, if COVID hadn't happened. Who would I have been able to meet? What would the college buildings mean to me? Because, for now, they're just buildings. But, I got to see the street from above, and that was amazing!

Just walking through New York--the Upper East Side--on a cool, sunny day was beautiful. It takes 20-30 minutes to get from my place to the college (and the tea place), but it was great being able to listen to my music (a lot of They Might Be Giants on the playlist today) and see the city. You know, people, super cool old architecture being pushed out by terrible new architecture, and pigeons.

Oh my god, the pigeons. I took pictures, but none of them are good. I kept thinking about how pigeons and doves are functionally the same. We domesticated pigeons, which is why they're here, and no one is stopping to notice them? Even the ones that were splotched with pure white, like doves? There's only so many pigeons you can take until they're just white noise and a nuisance, I know, so don't think I'm blaming anyone! But it's so hard to look away from these quirky little birds.

Also, at one point my walk, I was vaping very strategicly. The mental task of searching through library stacks will do that to you, when you already have an addiction to nicotine. I made sure no one was around, and no one would be affected. I stopped on a corner next to an old, ornate Catholic church while the traffic light changed, and I almost juuled right next to a priest! I'm glad I stopped. I don't believe in Hell, but, I would have walked down there myself had I vaped at a priest. Still, the church advertised itself as LGBT+ friendly, so maybe they aren't so trigger happy on the damnation. Either way, I DIDN'T vape at a priest today, which is good.

Once I got back, I spent a few hours watching things with my amazing girlfriend Chloe, who you may know here as @cisphobiccommunistopinions. She is so beautiful, and I love her more every day, every time I see her. God, it's almost been 5 years!

I just wish I could spend more time with her. She's in Virginia, and I'm in New York. Like she said to me earlier, I'm flighty at the best of times, and, with my lack of object permanence for the digital world, I find myself not giving her the attention I deserve, or, the full connection I long to have with her. We used to live together. Luckily, someday we will live together again! All these problems won't be forever, and we can live together again.

We watched a lot of things, but we're pretty deep into Serial Experiments Lain right now. It's a postmodern anime from the 90s, and, wow, do I have no idea what's going on in it. It's about the internet, and potentially schizophrenia as well. However, I'm obsessed! One day I'll be able to crack this artistic code, and it's unreality, thematic knots, and double-meanings. I will probably understand it better on the second watch. I don't see myself in Lain, but I see my 14 year old self in her, when I had just developed schizophrenia. Her cyberpunk fate seems like it's railroaded towards tragedy, but I want to save her, even if it's silly and irrational.

I told Chloe that I was scared about spilling apple cider on my library books, and she referred to it as "The Great Apple Juice Disaster of September 11, 2021." To which I said that it was the second worst thing to happen in New York on that date. It was funnier if you were there, and also were in my brain at the time.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm meeting some online acquaintances from the college's "Queer Srudent Union" at a Japanese Culture Fair in a park. (I do not know which park.) It emphasizes "fun"! I don't know them very well, but they're friends with the one person I know irl, so it should be good.

Tomorrow night, I should Probably head downtown to check out a gallery show by MFA (masters of fine arts) students at Hunter! After all, I was in a group project with one of them, and they're absolutely brilliant. I missed the Thursday gallery opening by a landslide, because of the aforementioned lack of adhd meds and Being Asleep, which I infinitely regret. I could have listened to all the artists and curators talk about their art and exhibition! Maybe I could have even talked with the artists and curators. But, it's best for me to go sooner, rather than later, so I don't forget. And, I REALLY want to go.

It's "This dialogue which happened to be present in all other dialogues" at the Alyssa Davis Gallery. From the email I got, "Each of these works observes a threshold of transition. [...] [These] intimations [are] of a frame of mind shared by the artists. These works perform, record, access, engage, document, and entrap, embalming the viewer within the gallery space."

sgp is a really good artist, by the way. Their work is just next-level. Be sure to check out their art, if you have a chance. Let me link their portfolio: https://saragracepowell.com/

(I highly suspect spg and the other member of my group project ghosted me afterwards, but I understand. I was really in over my head. Still, they're both really sweet and kind people, don't get it twisted!)

I ALSO really want to see The Cake Boys. They're performing at the 3 Dollar Bill in Brooklyn on September 26th. (It's only $15!) They're the only all drag king collective in NYC! (Are... there any Other all drag king collectives out there?) Other than the fact that a lot of them are trans or nonbinary, which I love, this show is a totally non-judgmental competition for over 40 drag kings! I've heard their shows are hilarious and unique.

I just have to wait until I have $15 to spare. I... didn't eat dinner tonight, because I'm irresponsible with my money and don't want to ask my parents for money... again. Don't worry, it's literally fine, and I don't make a habit of doing this!

Which reminds me! For my birthday, my parents gave me a gift card to Lush! I'm definitely going to Lush tomorrow, which will be great. I would describe my personality as "Lush store employee acosting you about a bath bomb demonstration", so I'll fit right in.

I also made a transition timeline, to show how much I've changed on testosterone. For the better, I hope! I really believe I'm becoming, if not Have Become, the man I was always meant to be. It's so strange to look back at who I was not too long ago, and to know the absolute pain I was in. It's also strange, in a good way, to see the man looking back at me in the selfies. I'm so much happier now! Much more candid in my pictures, at least. But, I know that I'm so much more comfortable as myself than I was even 6 months ago. It's strange. Sometimes I think to myself, "I don't pass yet; I'm not who I Need To Be yet." Then, I look at my selfie from today, and... I'm THERE. My mind just hasn't caught up with my amazing, natural, normal reality.

The end. I have to get ready for bed, (even though I could be partying on a Saturday night in the city. I'm lame.) If you actually read this, I am kissing you on the mouth right now. I hope it made you calm down tonight, like a terrible bedtime story. If you didn't read it and just skipped to the end, don't worry: you did the rational thing.

[cotestuck]

Listen, guys, I would really rather those of you who are going to block me based on a malicious anon with a cherry picked, albeit very well written call out doc just go ahead with the block than ask me about it and block me half way through answering.

For those of you who don't know, I have been raising, rescuing, and studying dove and then pigeon behavior since 2012.

I've documented all of that on The Ramsey Loft, formerly Ramsey Rringnecks, when I just raised doves.

I think I started that blog in 2013?

The Ramsey Loft is an instructional blog, where I have documented every aspect of keeping, raising, breeding, showing, and rescuing, including and especially what can go wrong, and what did, for me.

I think breeders should be as open as possible, both so that people who want to buy from them know what they're getting, and people who think they want to breed or rescue know exactly what they are getting into.

I posted near daily updates of life in the loft, through changing species of interest from doves to pigeons and breeding goals from pets and show birds to pets and therapy animals, after a street pigeon taught himself to alert me for anxiety attacks and blood sugar spikes.

For the sake of personal medical records and other potential breeders information, I necropsied and documented every bird that died.

Between rescues and purebreds, I've documented some pretty wild shit, which has been shared with my vet and the state vet, when particularly interesting.

My own health, and its effect on the care I was able to maintain have also been very frankly, free form documented.

Some one combed through all that information, cherry picked several accidents, the necropsies of rescues that passed on or shortly after arrival, and "this went wrong, here's how" accounts with the "what I've done to prevent it in the future" parts left out, and it looks really monstrous.

So monstrous, in fact, that I don't even blame anyone for taking it at face value and blocking me.

No, really. No hard feelings about that at all.

But the way it's framed, I've just plodded blithely along for the last near decade, changing nothing, and putting on a really good surprised pikachu face in public.

If that's actually how things had gone, I really would be a monster who should never be allowed in contact with an animal.

The first outbreak I dealt with was Coccidia. A mild annoyance in otherwise healthy pigeons, but fatal on its own to ringneck doves.

Because the quarantine procedure that worked for new Ringneck Doves was inadequate for Pigons.

Ringneck Doves have a frankly piss poor immune system by comparison, and I could generally trust that if, after four weeks in insolated observation, a dove had not developed symptoms, that bird was safe to join the breeding flock.

That's not how that works for pigeons.

Pigeons can carry and spread a great many pathogens subclinically that will immediately sicken a Ringneck.

So the quarantine procedure changed to include fecal and throat swabs, which were done both in house, and confirmed by the vet, so I could be sure I knew what I was looking at.

Four weeks total, with swabs on arrival, and pre release from quarantine.

That was insufficient to cover for Salmonella.

Another pigeon passed through quarantine with exit swabs all clean, bright eyed, and clean feathered.

And within 12 hours, the first dove fluffed up.

We lost as many birds as we did because the exotics vets I was seeing at the time only came to work on Tuesday and Thursday, and the first doves fell ill during Master's week, when they were both on vacation.

None of the emergency vets would look at anything but dogs or cats.

Salmonella is fatal to Ringneck Doves within 48 hours of exposure.

Y'all do the math.

But salmonella (paratyphoid) and PMV both have vaccines available, which I immediately started keeping on hand and administering as recommended.

For birds I hatched, initial shots at 6 weeks, boosters at 9, then every 6 months for Paratyphoid and every year for PMV.

New adults get initial vaccines on arrival, and boosters 3 weeks later during their quarantine period.

I got out of Ringneck Doves for a few reasons, but most importantly:

I had a fucking heart attack!!!

Managing the cages was physically just... more than I could keep up with.

I tried to for a while. I got to a point where I could keep the loft and quarantine room pristine, but I physically couldn't deal with that and all of the house.

So I had to pick a species, if not get out of them entirely.

Pigeons are more intelligent and personable, and I enjoyed working with them more.

Without the doves, who need to be caged in pairs as adults because they are very aggressively territorial, and for protection from pigeons who are big enough to hurt them in their attempts to court and drive, I wouldn't need any cages at all.

And one less bill to pay for the license (which is required for doves, but not pigeons) would free up funds for feed and vet bills and such.

So I sent the remaining doves back to two other breeders I had been working with on color and feather texture projects, decided not to show anymore, and redesigned the loft around the pigeons and what I was sure I could physically manage.

Sand floor I could sift the poop out of.

Stackable plastic nest boxes I could just pick up and clean.

Mats on the shelves I could take out and hose.

I had a screening process that was intended to ensure that birds that shouldn't be bred didn't go to someone who wanted to breed, and went all the way to size, sex, and personality of the birds, to be as close to absolutely sure as possible that a match would really be a forever home.

I had a no questions asked return policy that included mates and children, that was intended to protect the birds I had produced and any potential offspring to keep them out of shelters.

And I had a wait list that had 15-20 people on it waiting for babies at any given time.

I had never had more than four or five peeps of the same age at any given time, and rescues didn't come in super often.

I could physically keep up with the work, and was pretty sure I had set solid policies.

But some clients who had bought birds on non breeding contracts let them breed and asked me to take the babies.

Rescues got more frequent.

And when we switched the birds to Versele Laga, and fed them on the mesh (which is swapped out daily to keep sanitary) where they could get some elbow room and eat more comfortably, my breeding flock got a lot more productive!

And here's where I really fucked up:

As peeps bred for the people on the wait list failed to pass the temperament bar, everything should have stopped.

Everything.

All breeding, all rescue intake.

Everything.

Until the non-keepers I had went home.

Period.

End of.

But I just tried again for a peep to match that person on my wait list.

Which lead to more birds, more mess, physically harder to keep up with.

My own health got worse, which made everything harder.

So I hired help with cleaning on the days I physically couldn't.

And I just went straight to hell when I lost my Assistance Bird.

Ankhou didn't just alert me for anxiety attacks and blood sugar spikes.

He also regulated my mood, reminded me to eat, and went to get my husband if something was wrong that he couldn't fix.

He was the whole reason I started the therapy project.

It took a very long time for me to recover, but during that time, the person I hired to help was called more frequently, and a new ventilation system was installed in the loft.

The outbreak we have been closed from since March turned out to be Candidia albicans.

But my part of Ga was on covid lock down at the time, so my vet was swamped, most vets weren't taking new clients, and even the state vet was turning people away.

Getting those tests performed to figure out what we were treating took months.

Gram stain, then DNA screening on fecals for bacterial pathogens.

Necropsy on the last two birds to die, who I could only get in for euthanasia,

Second DNA screening for bacteria, DNA screening for fungi, DNA screening for viruses from the liver tissue.

That took until September.

When Candidia was confirmed, it was treated immediately, and we stayed on in case of virus lock down.

I documented the feces of symptomatic birds in quarantine every day before cleaning their hospital cages.

Laid out a stone path from my back door to the loft that could be hosed between passes.

Got the birds a new window unit AC so I could block access to the porch.

Got plastic disposable shoe covers that I put on my feet before entering the loft.

Threw out the mats and replaced them with shelf liners I could clean more easily in the sink.

Started fully replacing the sand at the beginning of every month.

The flock was confirmed clean in August, with some clarification confirmed in September.

No breeding or rescue work has resumed.

Nor will it, until we can fully rebuild the lofts, with floors I can pressure hose and nests I can take down and clean without disturbing any around them.

One for the breeding flock, a separate one for rescues and adoptables, and a third for quarantine.

In the meantime, I'm just taking care of the birds I have and adopting out the ones I don't plan to keep.

When babies are a thing again, one peep per pair is all I'll keep, and I will no longer be hatching on demand.

We will build the new lofts when we move and have space, which could take years, but pigeons can live to 20. I'm not in a rush.

The people who made that call out post they're sharing around knew about all of that.

All of the changes to quarantine proceedures.

The changes to the screening process.

The new ventilation system.

The new AC.

All the redesigns to make tracking pathogens in less likely.

The plans not to do any further breeding until the new lofts can be built.

The specifics of the redesigns planned for the new lofts.

And what the breeding plans are once the new lofts are built.

They were part of my Loft Server, and actively participated in the discussions involving all that.

They just left it all out.

Do with all that as you will.

There will be no hard feelings.