#grey parrot Health Concerns

[tiktokparrot]

Looking for information on common medical disorders and diseases that can affect African grey parrots? Read our quick guide to learn about respiratory diseases, hypocalcemia syndrome, circovirus, nasal blockages, proventricular dilatation disease, and behavioral problems in African Grey parrots. Keep your feathered friend healthy and happy with our expert advice!

[louisepryor]

African Grey Parrot For Sale UK

african grey for sale (Psittacus erithacus); two subspecies Congo: larger body, light-grey coloration, all-black beak, and bright red tail feathers Timneh: smaller body, darker-grey coloration, flesh-colored top half of beak, and dark maroon tail feathers Weight: 330-500 gm Young birds have dark grey irises that turn pale yellow at 1 year of age Sexual maturity: 4-6 years Avg. life span: 25-30 years Maximum recorded life span: 50+ years

Enclosures should be as large as possible, such that the bird is able to fully extend it’s wings and flap without touching the cage walls Cage should be clean, secure, safe and constructed of durable, non-toxic materials Perches should be of variable widths, heights, and textures. Also provide a concrete perch to help to maintain the toenails. Avoid placing perches directly over food or water to prevent contamination Access to natural light is preferred, and supplemental UV light may be recommended to treat or prevent feather picking or hypocalcemia. Avoid drafty areas. Parrots should stay in their cage or a “bird safe” room when they are not under direct supervision. Birds with unrestricted access to the home are at risk for accidents such as toxin ingestion, electrocution, pet attacks, and drowning. Preventive Care.

Physical examinations every 6-12 months Consult a veterinarian with experience in avian medicine if you have any questions or concerns about your bird’s health. Annual fecal examination for parasites, yeast, and bacteria Vaccination for Polyomavirus, as directed by your veterinarian Routine blood testing Wing, nail trimming as needed

african grey parrots for sale UK Common Medical Disorders

Behavioral problems (e.g. feather picking, fearfulness, aggression) Respiratory diseases Hypocalcemia syndrome Circovirus (PBFD virus) Nasal blockages (bacterial, fungal, secondary to malnutrition) Proventricular dilatation disease (PDD)

[juliatozier]

African Grey Parrot For Sale UK

african grey for sale (Psittacus erithacus); two subspecies Congo: larger body, light-grey coloration, all-black beak, and bright red tail feathers Timneh: smaller body, darker-grey coloration, flesh-colored top half of beak, and dark maroon tail feathers Weight: 330-500 gm Young birds have dark grey irises that turn pale yellow at 1 year of age Sexual maturity: 4-6 years Avg. life span: 25-30 years Maximum recorded life span: 50+ years

Enclosures should be as large as possible, such that the bird is able to fully extend it’s wings and flap without touching the cage walls Cage should be clean, secure, safe and constructed of durable, non-toxic materials Perches should be of variable widths, heights, and textures. Also provide a concrete perch to help to maintain the toenails. Avoid placing perches directly over food or water to prevent contamination Access to natural light is preferred, and supplemental UV light may be recommended to treat or prevent feather picking or hypocalcemia. Avoid drafty areas. Parrots should stay in their cage or a “bird safe” room when they are not under direct supervision. Birds with unrestricted access to the home are at risk for accidents such as toxin ingestion, electrocution, pet attacks, and drowning. Preventive Care.

Physical examinations every 6-12 months Consult a veterinarian with experience in avian medicine if you have any questions or concerns about your bird’s health. Annual fecal examination for parasites, yeast, and bacteria Vaccination for Polyomavirus, as directed by your veterinarian Routine blood testing Wing, nail trimming as needed

african grey parrots for sale UK Common Medical Disorders

Behavioral problems (e.g. feather picking, fearfulness, aggression) Respiratory diseases Hypocalcemia syndrome Circovirus (PBFD virus) Nasal blockages (bacterial, fungal, secondary to malnutrition) Proventricular dilatation disease (PDD)

[wingedauthor]

I am 100% down for the Headcanon that Gavin is a cat person. But I might I also raise him being a bird person? 

Meet Dipshit. The foul mouth, bitey, rescued African Grey whom many have compared to his owner. Hates everyone except Gavin (though he still gets bit). Nines is a very rare exception to this fact. Partially inspired by parrot swearing videos like this one. 

Headcanon below. Feel free to add:

As stated Dipshit is a rescue parrot. Three years prior to the revolution, they found him during a Red Ice Ring Raid. He was trapped in a small cage no bigger than him in a very dark room. Due to stress, he had plucked out most of his feathers. It was Gavin who found him and let him out of the cage despite the bird’s angry hissing. 

The bird bit him of course but having dealt with feral cats, Gavin remained calm ignoring the pain. Dipshit ran up his shoulder then and refused to get off; biting anyone and everyone who got too close to Gavin

Gavin took him to a local exotic shelter to see if they could find him a good home. Dipshit seemed... heartbroken seeing Gavin leave. Gavin stayed in touch with the shelter to see if anyone tried adopting him. Meanwhile he started doing research. After a few weeks of no one being willing to take in the angry bird, he decided to bring him home. 

Dipshit was uncharacteristically happy seeing Gavin again. Especially when he took the bird away. 

Gavin spent a good chunk of his savings getting the biggest cage that would fit in his apartment and an assortment of bird toys, perches, treats, food etc. That first night together, Gavin learned Dipshit was afraid of the dark and hates being locked in his cage. He pretty much screamed until Gavin turned the lights back on and opened the cage. Though not the best for his health, Gavin decided to just leave the cage door open at all times and leave a nightlight on for bird. 

Gavin still has a cat named Asshole. She was curious about Dipshit at first but much to Gavin’s relief, she really has no desire to chase Dipshit. He’s pretty sure Dipshit could take her on in a fight though. Slowly his feathers started to grow back but there’s still a few missing patches. Unlike most birds, Dipshit was quite content going long hours without seeing Gavin. As long as Gavin spent most of his time with the bird when he was home, he was fine. He has free range of Gavin’s apartment though will mostly sit on top of his cage or on a free standing perch in the living room. His wings are clipped just for safety. 

Dipshit did not help Hank’s fear of birds. 

The bird has picked up Gavin’s dislike of the lieutenant and attacks every time he sees Hank. Connor came over to apartment once to collect some case files and was attacked by Dipshit as well. He completely understands Hank’s fear now of that bird.

Nines was an interesting case. Maybe part of it was Gavin didn’t really have a seething hatred of the newer android and Dipshit picked up on that. The first time he came over, Dipshit put on his threatening dance. 

Gavin: Careful he bites Nines: I cannot feel pain Detective but I appreciate your concern Gavin: I’m not worried about you dumb ass. Dipshit can easily bite through your plastic fingers and thirium is extremely poisonous to birds. Nines: Noted.

But Nines showed no fear. Dipshit obeyed a very stern command to not bite and step up. Gavin was completely shocked. Dipshit never listened to anyone. Not even the vets. 

To rub salt in the wound, Nines was the first person who was able to give Dipshit scritches. He explained that sometimes angry creatures just needed a kind but firm tone. (Not unlike a certain detective). Nines now visits regularly to help Gavin train Dipshit. 

[littleoldrachel]

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) - part three

you are all TOO NICE TO ME i can’t cope with how kind you are!!!

here is part three!

(i'm having a pretty hard time with my own bad brain at the moment so pls don't hate me for the typos, etc. i will fix them when my brain is less yoghurty, pls forgive me)

good news: the next chapter will only be a bit more angst and then it's all comfort from there on out i PROMISE he's gonna be okay <3

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) [on ao3]

summary: in which virgil falls apart, learns how to put himself back together, and realises he doesn’t have to do it alone.

word count: 6.7k ish ( part 1/5 | part 2/5 | part 3/5)

warnings: mental health issues -  look so there is some pretty intense mental health stuff in here so please. go careful. also trigger warnings for some super brief suicidal ideation. you are loved and i am here if you need a reminder of that <3

timeline: i suppose this is set in early TAG verse?  jeff is missing and nobody is Coping Well.

happy belated birthday, nutty!! <3

iii.

The days that follow are an enigma. 

Later, in therapy, he'll struggle to remember a single detail. There is simply a gap that promises pain should he poke it too hard, and he will shy away from reliving a single minute of it.

At the time though…

It’s a waterfall of suffering; he is cascading down, down, down, and every time he grabs a hold, his hand slips on smooth rock and agonising memories. Relentless misery beats down on him until he stops even trying to raise his head, because it is always stronger than him. Hitting the bottom, he is submerged, unable to distinguish the surface from the floor because of the murky grey all around him, and he can’t breathe down here, he’s alone down here, he’s going to die down here. 

So. The days that follow feel a lot like drowning - and Virgil would know. 

He can’t breathe and his limbs are too heavy and everything is muted, grey, useless, but himself most of all. He cannot feel much of anything at all beneath this crushing despair, but he knows that he is utterly sick of himself, beyond exhausted of feeling so terrible, desperate for a way out but unable to communicate this to his family.

He spends a lot of time thinking about his parents. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t remember them, but it’s usually memories of their lives, rather than grisly and traumatic thoughts of their deaths. But now, he can’t seem to stop himself from fixating on the way his mother turned the snow around her berry-red as she first stopped shaking, then speaking, then breathing. Nor how his father’s final moments must have been elation-turned-fear, how the heat of the flames must have engulfed him all at once, if there was any relief that he would once more be with Lucy -

He never allows himself to think these thoughts. They're too upsetting, too raw, too painful.

But now, he is powerless to stop them. 

On the fifth day of this new low - though it is fast becoming Virgil’s norm and that terrifies him - the klaxon sounds and Virgil can barely drag himself to the lounge. He does so anyway, arriving in time to see Gordon disappearing down his chute. Scott casts a glance in his direction as he makes his own way to his ship, concern blossoming at the sight of Virgil’s blank eyes. 

“Go to bed, Virg, you look rough.”

(Virgil doesn’t argue, which only tightens the knot of worry in Scott’s stomach, but he shoves it aside in favour of the rescue).

Virgil returns to bed, avoiding all reflective surfaces he can. He knows how terrible he looks and he cannot stand the sight of himself, but he also can’t seem to bring himself to get in the fucking shower. 

He’s disgusted with himself - it’s no wonder Scott didn’t want him on the rescue.

*

Or any rescues, apparently.

“You’re sick, Virg,” Scott begins, when he arrives home late that night to find his younger brother hasn’t moved from his bed. 

Virgil protests (hardly, weakly), though he can’t find the conviction for the words. It’s like he’s going through the motions of a well-rehearsed play. “I’m not sick. I’m fine to fly.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Virgil sighs, rolling away from his brother and that horrible mounting worry. 

“You see, the fact you didn’t call me out on that language tells me just how horrible you must be feeling. I mean it, Virg. Grounded until you’re recovered. And I want you to have a medical first thing!”

It doesn’t feel like there’s any recovering from this sickness. 

*

Not having the distraction of rescues is punishment enough, but worse is the knowledge that Gordon keeps falling asleep over breakfast because Virgil can’t pull his fucking weight. He feels completely fucking useless - is being completely fucking useless - and yet, he still can’t bring himself to get out of bed. His brothers parrot concerned, loving questions he can’t answer and show him a kindness he certainly doesn’t deserve, and Virgil -

Virgil is a paradox: on the one hand, he is too empty to feel a single damned thing, no matter how much he wants to cry, no matter how hard he tries to put a label on these experiences, there is nothing there and therefore he is nothing. But on the other hand, Virgil is overflowing with raw, live misery so heavy he can’t take a full breath and so awful he stops caring about the fact. 

He’s not okay. 

He doesn’t know what’s wrong and he doesn’t know why, but he’s so far from okay, it’s laughable.

Only, he hasn’t laughed in weeks, and Gordon has stopped trying to make him. 

That realisation burrows into his heart, a sharp nasty sting of guilt and loneliness. He misses his brothers and he knows it’s his fault that they’re withdrawing - isolating yourself from them will do that - but it hurts all the same. 

It hurts because when Scott had started to count on neat whiskey to get him through the day, Virgil had dug his heels in and refused to let it be so. It hurts because when John had been relying on study drugs and no sleep to get through his PhD, it was Virgil who refused to let him hide away in shame. It hurts because Virgil has been there for more of Gordon’s panic attacks than he wants to remember, and yet he remembers them all the same. It hurts because Alan is too young to have lost so much, but Virgil refuses to let him shoulder that alone. 

Virgil loves his brothers with every single drop of Tracy blood in his veins, and he isn't afraid to show it by any means necessary. 

But he's so, so tired. 

Not of loving them - never that - but there's something so lonely and sad about this feeling and he’s exhausted by it and terrified of it and it all just hurts.

*

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” says John hesitantly, and Scott looks sharply at his younger brother across their father’s desk. “Don’t try and tell me this is fine, John,” 

"I know it's not fine," snaps John, “but I’m telling you that physically, he’s fine. A few bruises, but nothing some rest won’t fix.”

Scott begins to pace, frustration thrumming through his body. “He’s not eating properly,” He runs his hand through prematurely greying hairs in a motion learned from his father. “He’s just not Virgil.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t seen him paint or play piano in weeks, hell he isn’t even trying to get me to talk about my feelings. He’s alone all the time, constantly tired...”

“I know.”

“I just - are you sure? Nothing cracked at all? No signs of-”

“I had Brains run three separate scans, Scott. I’ve checked the results myself.”

“Could it be a concussion of some kind? He took a pretty big beating in Gen-”

“Scott. For God’s sake, listen. Physically, he’s fine.”

Scott stares at him, wishing not for the first time that the cogs of his brain moved at the same velocity as John’s. “Physically… so you’re saying this isn’t a physical thing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Scott swallows - this is okay, unexpected, but he can recalibrate and work out what it is that Virgil needs, this is fine. “So it’s a mental thing.”

John smiles in spite of the gravity of the situation. “I don’t think that’s the correct term, but yes, I believe so.”

“What specifically?”

“I’m not a doctor, Scott. Virg’s the one with medical training.”

“Yes, but he’s not telling us anything.” Scott stares at John, fear clawing at his throat, at the thought of his brother - his best friend - hurting so much and yet seemingly unable to voice it. “What do I -” his voice cracks and he clears his throat hurriedly. “What do I do?”

“This isn’t all on you, Scott,” John says, his turn to be sharp now. “He’s my brother too.”

Scott takes a deep breath; the weight of his one thousand responsibilities have never felt so heavy on his shoulders, and yet, they may as well be feathers for how unimportant they are compared to this bombshell. But. John’s eyes reflect his own concern, but there’s a determination in the set of his jaw Scott has come to rely upon - his younger brother has never met a problem he couldn’t solve.

“Fine. What do we do?”

“I… I’m working on it.”

“John. This isn’t all on you.”

“Yeah yeah, Kettle.” John rubs his eyes. “EOS and I are researching. There’s a lot out there and because he won’t tell us how he feels, I don’t - I don’t know if we should get him a therapist like Gordon had or meds like me or… I don’t know what. And our lives aren’t exactly normal, so it’s hard to say what will actually help.” 

EOS pipes up, her lights dancing somewhere between turquoise and green (Virgil would know what to call that): “The recurring theme across research is ‘being there’ for the patient. A strange concept since humans are so limited by their physical forms.”

John smiles again, but it’s strained. “I’ll explain later, EOS. But it’s like how Virgil always checks in with me after a bad day.”

The words bring a lump to Scott’s throat that he can’t explain. 

“I see. So, you need to ‘check in’ with him now?” EOS asks.

“Something like that.” John catches Scott’s eye again. “Normalcy is also good. Being active.”

“So I shouldn’t ground him?” Scott says, though the thought of Virgil piloting his ship in a poor mental state terrifies him. He’s not afraid of his brother’s skill - that has never been in question - but how is he supposed to protect him from something none of them can even see?

“I don’t know.” John says it like it’s physically painful - perhaps it is, John is always loathe to admit lack of knowledge on a topic. “Maybe not? Though I don’t want him flying a ship if he’s feeling like, well -”

Scott slumps back into his father’s chair - his chair now. “Exactly. I don’t know what to do, John.”

“Me neither.” Uttered quietly. Helplessly.

Scott hates this.

Silence stretches between them - uncomfortable, worried tension that neither of them know how to handle. 

Eventually, John sighs, “I should go, Scott. Duty calls and all that.”

“John…” His brother pauses in reaching to cut the commline. “You - he’d tell us if he was feeling really bad, right? This is Virgil we’re talking about. He loves all that feelings stuff.”

“Yeah. Yes.” 

But John’s voice is laced with an uncertainty that curdles the worry in Scott’s stomach. 

*

Virgil's not sure exactly how long it's been but it must be weeks and he's losing his fucking mind. 

Every day is the same and it’s all one neverending nightmare. 

With the morning birdsong, he locks himself in his rooms and sleeps - or at least tries to, because it doesn't count as sleep when he wakes even more tired. He rejects his brothers' concern and ignores the trays of food Grandma has taken to leaving outside his door.

Where he's able to, Virgil still attempts to check in with them all after difficult rescues, still tries to fulfill his role as resident caregiver, but it's becoming increasingly hard to field their nagging questions. 

He almost caves, when Alan slopes into his room and practically begs him to tell them what's wrong. His brother's wide blue eyes are a weapon all of their own, and it takes all of Virgil's resolve to shrug his worries off. He steeps in self-loathing for hours at the hurt in Alan's eyes. 

Virgil doesn't understand why it's so hard to say the words out loud. For someone who has always championed self care and mental well-being, this inability to communicate his own suffering is as unexpected as it is unmanageable. He doesn't know where it's come from, nor how he's going to fix it; all he knows is that he cannot bear Scott's judgement, John's worry, Gordon's probing, Alan's disappointment -

It's too much.

It's all too much.

And he despises himself for that.

*

He endures John’s insistence he has a physical - and a second and third when the results are inevitably fine. He allows Scott’s anxious hovering as he answers Brains’ questions without complaint - another wrinkle to add to his brother’s worry lines, but he doesn’t have the energy to fight it.

For some reason, the medical proof that he is, in fact, fine, is damning. At least if there were some physical cause for his current state, he thinks it would be easier to bear (easier rather than fine, because he’s Virgil goddamn Tracy with a mile-wide stubborn streak) but instead he’s just falling apart with a single good reason.

(He hates himself for it). 

*

Scott watches his brother brush past his piano like he doesn’t even notice it’s there, flinch from the sunlight like it burns him, grow skinnier and more hunched beneath those tatty plaid shirts, and his heart aches. 

If their positions were reversed, Virgil would know what to do. Virgil knows Scott better than he knows himself, would have probably been able to resolve this before it even started. 

But Scott isn’t Virgil - he cannot untangle emotions and comfort weary souls like his brother can. 

He doesn’t know what to do with this shell of a man.

Scott spends what little time he has researching, learning, planning, but nothing he tries seems to help at all. Each time he broaches the topic of having someone to talk to with Virgil, his brother simply shuts down. He whines and begs Virgil to play him something but Virgil just sits before the piano, working on muscle memory alone. He stares at the medical reports until they blur and fade into restless sleep.

But he loves his brother just as fiercely as Virgil does him, and so it’s in sheer desperation that he tells John Virgil is back on duty. His brother blinks, schools surprise into an unreadable calm, and Scott feels the need to justify himself. 

“I just - maybe giving him a sense of purpose will help. Some structure back, you know?”

“Sure, Scott,” John says, though his tone is anything but. 

*

Scott’s announcement that he’s back on duty is a surprise to Virgil. His brother goes from you're not flying Two again until you're fit to, and you're not fit to until you goddamn talk to me to we need Two, now, Virg practically overnight. Alan and Gordon exchange similar looks of confusion, and Virgil is doubly aware of what a burden he has been to them all.

In Scott’s defense, they do need Two - and all of the ‘Birds to be honest. 

Virgil pushes through the foggy exhaustion that has become his waking state, and drops into his chute like he’s never been gone. By the time he’s adjusting his uniform, the fog has cleared a little, and when he’s settled in the pilot’s chair - his chair - he feels better than he has in weeks. Gordon flops down beside him, feet somehow already propped on the dash, and Virgil shoves them off automatically. 

He feels alive. 

Rescues help. For all the pressure and pain they bring, rescues give him a purpose. Even though rescues drove him to - no. Virgil doesn’t want to think about that now. All he knows is that without rescues - well. Actually, Virgil doesn't want to think about that option either. 

It’s been a while since he’s flown his ‘Bird, but she’s the same reliable dream she always is (a little worse for wear in her left thruster perhaps, from Gordon’s overeager antics, but nothing some tinkering won’t fix later. The fact that he is even interested in tinkering speaks volumes). The thrum of Two’s engines is practically medicinal and he revels in being able to breathe freely, think clearly - it’s been so, so long. 

The journey to the rescue zone is quiet, updates from John and occasional witticisms from Gordon are background noise to the beloved sound of Two responding to his lightest touch. Alan and Scott - speed junkies till they die - are far enough ahead of them that Virgil and Gordon exchange their usual eye rolling at Alan’s antics (“and the youngest Tracy takes the lead, a swift manoeuvre from Mr Alan Tracy proving once and for all that he is the true champ- hey, that’s not fair-“) and for a minute, it’s like none of the last few weeks had happened. 

Gordon bounces out of his seat as they begin their descent, practically vibrating with adrenaline as he dashes to his own ‘Bird. Virgil drops Pod 4 with a grin at Gordon’s whoop, catches a glimpse of sunshine yellow cutting through murky water, before sweeping round into landing beside Alan’s rocket.

In spite of the carnage around the Thunderbirds, Virgil feels the adrenaline stirring in his own chest, because finally, something he knows how to do, how to help, how to fix. 

It's an earthquake, the second one in this area in as many months. The hastily-reconstructed housing never stood a chance against tremors that tickled six on the Richter scale. In places the ground has cracked in two, dark zigzagging lines snaking across the desolate landscape. Piles of rubble, pools of dirty water, clouds of dust, and among them, people staggering hopelessly through the remnants of their houses. 

Families who have already lost everything are once again homeless. Virgil’s heart aches at the injustice of it all. 

International Rescue's task is simple, in theory. Virgil and Alan are to get the survivors out from the rubble nearest the epicentre, whilst Gordon takes Four up to the dam and assesses the damage done to the wall’s defences. Scott will be assisting with rescues from the sinkhole on the edge of the town - the result of overtaxing the land and the force of nature. And John, of course, as their ever-seeing eye in the sky. Simple. 

As simple as it can be when you’re surrounded by desperate people and their frantic hopes that you’ll save their loved ones. A quick word with Alan and Virgil dons his exo-suit, grimacing a little at the familiar weight of the Jaws of Life on his limbs. He’s reluctant to use the Mole given that it is likely bodies will be distributed at different depths in the wreckage - and Jesus, what a bleak thought that is. 

Alan begins tackling the top layers of rubble, using a combination of grappling hooks and jet blasters to clear the smaller chunks of rock, wood and dust from the area. Watching Alan work so efficiently and professionally sends a jolt of pride through Virgil’s chest; in many ways, Alan is and always will be their baby brother, but at times like this, it’s impossible to deny the man he is becoming. 

Whilst Gordon is Virgil’s usual partner on rescues, Alan is equally capable and hard-working, and between them and John’s careful scans, they begin locating some of the missing. Something loosens in Virgil’s chest at the sight of the first dust-streaked hand reaching towards them through the rocks - bruised, filthy, but unmistakably alive. As much as he tries to avoid superstition on rescues, beginning with a corpse is never a good omen. 

(Of course, this isn’t to say they don’t find bodies. A mother wrapped around her child, body misshapen from the weight of the rocks. An unrecognisable man, head bashed to a pulp - Virgil sends Alan to get some water at that point, nausea making them both shaky).

As is always the way, human kindness prevails, and soon the local people are involved in the rescue efforts. Virgil knows from experience that it’s best not to fight it, but he asks in a broken attempt at their language (that John then delivers flawlessly) that they stay away from the more dangerous sites.

As if it’s not all one big danger site.

Still. He’s busy and sweating and focused, and there is no time for self-loathing or guilt in his head at the moment. His arms are aching a couple of hours in, but he keeps going - has to keep going - because there are more people who need him and he needs this. It feels like it takes an age to clear just the stretch of what was once a row of houses, but once they have, Alan and Virgil barely stop for a rest before moving to the next place they are needed.

Virgil forces Alan to eat an energy bar, watching closely despite Alan’s glares to ensure it all goes down, but can’t bring himself to have more than a few bites of his own. 

Eventually, God knows how many hours later but late enough that there is but a slither of sun left on the horizon, John’s murmurs of heartbeats in the rubble grow further and further apart, and the number of bodies only continues to rise. Things deteriorate further with the aftershocks that rip through the land and Virgil clings to the person he’s in the middle of rescuing, willing them not to slip from his shaking grip. 

(He manages, just, though they have gone ragdoll limp by the time the earth resettles).

(But he keeps going).

Gordon has come to join them, tired but satisfied that reinforcements are in place, and Virgil smiles like it’s normal for him, claps him on the shoulder. “Good job, Gords.”

The grin he gets in return is a little bemused but bright and Virgil feels alive. 

*

The sky is velvety black now, tiny pinpricks of silver piercing it, and up there, one of those lights is his brother. Even with Two’s floodlighting, Virgil has to squint now to see what he’s shifting, his arms are leaden, and his head aches with dehydration. The end is in sight though; as brutal as it is to admit it from this point on, they will mainly be pulling bodies, and despite Scott’s insistence that International Rescue will continue their efforts, the local authority is equally stubborn that their crews can take it from here. 

(Virgil hears a mutinous, “fat lot of good that did last time,” muttered into Scott’s comm and can’t help but agree). 

He sighs, pauses for a second to stretch his muscles, and taps his own comms. 

"John, status update?"

"Two more life signs in the vicinity. To your left. Signal's faint… are they beneath that building?"

'Building' is a generous word for the structure that John has identified. Its stone walls are cracked from ground to roof, angry black tears through stone that has started to crumble. In places, the rock has already given way, revealing open sky and starlight through the gaps. It’s been reinforced with wooden shafts, which are crippled under the strain. The building is practically swaying in the breeze: a Jenga stack one block from collapse.

“Building integrity?” Virgil asks, though Virgil the Engineer is already running calculations on structural integrity and coming up with big flashing red NOs. Not even with the proper equipment - there isn’t enough of a structure to even hold onto, let alone hold up.

No way in hell is Alan going in there. Nor Gordon.

But someone has to.

“No way,” John says sharply, just as Virgil knew he would, but he’s already moving, squeezing through the space where a window once was. “Virgil - Virgil, no - at least wait for backup-”

Virgil swipes the connection away - he’ll pay for it later, but for now, he needs to focus and John’s audible yet uncharacteristic panic isn’t conducive to this.

It’s even darker inside, and Virgil makes a mental note to thank Brains for installing the headtorch in the suit. Eerie shadows bounce off the walls but at least he can see where the stairs have semi-collapsed against an internal wall - where the two victims must be buried.

“Hello?” Virgil tries, picking his way through the damage as best as he can in the gloom. “Can anyone hear me?”

There’s a pause, and then - unmistakably - a sob. A stream of words in a foreign tongue, far too quick for Virgil to understand, but he knows the universal language of fear and he moves. 

He grunts as he begins shifting rocks. “I’m Virgil, I’m with International Rescue. I’m going to get you out.” He repeats it in a clunky version of their language, and gets a further panicked babble. 

John appears again as he spots the leg of one of the victims - torn trousers and tiny feet, a child - and he does not look impressed. “Firstly, Virgil, what the fuck? Second, Scott is on his way and he will kill you for not waiting for backup-”

“We might not have time for that, John,” Virgil pants, shoving slab of the wall away. It has uncovered the whole lower body of the child and it’s a sharp twist in Virgil’s chest to see the duck patterns so dirty and ruined. 

John pinches the bridge of his nose and breaths out noisily. “This is incredibly dangerous, Virgil.”

“So let me do my job and get out of here,” Virgil snaps back, and John recoils. Virgil regrets the words the second they leave his mouth - he’s tired and dehydrated and stressed and he didn’t mean it, of course he didn’t - but John’s already gone blank with carefully-concealed hurt. 

Virgil hates when he does this. 

“John, I-”

“Don’t, Virgil. Do your damn job.” 

As John closes the connection, Virgil swallows down his guilt and focuses on the task at hand. There will be time to make it up to his brother later. 

They’re both children, it turns out, wrapped up in each other’s arms, tear stains tracking their cheeks, and scared shitless, but alive. The boy has a head wound that’s bleeding sluggishly and the girl is cradling her arm protectively, but it’s okay, Virgil got them out, they’re going to be okay.

“I’m Virgil,” he tells them, kneeling before them and tapping his chest. “What are your names?”

“Faroqh,” the girl says, pointing at the boy and then at herself. “Leila.” She adds something on the end - a plea, he thinks, though it’s too quick to catch anything.

“I’m going to get you out,” Virgil says, keeping his voice calm and soothing. He holds out his hands and the boy reaches for it, scrubbing at his eyes. 

John pops up again and the girl leaps back in shock. “Virgil - get out, aftershocks incoming, get out-”

The ground is already moving beneath them, juddering, groaning, and Virgil seizes the boy, scooping him against his chest, tries to reach for the girl through the clouds of dust rising -

Quiet.

For a split second, he thinks they’ve escaped it. 

And then it all goes wrong.

The ceiling caves first, then the walls, collapsing inwards like dominoes. There’s no time to think, Virgil just reacts, throwing himself blindly in the direction of the girl, cushioning both children as best he can against himself as the rocks rain down. 

In his mind, he��s vaguely aware that this is more of a Scott-move than a Virgil-move. Scott is the one who’ll fling himself into danger without a second thought, if it means someone else gets theirs. 

And yet, here he is. 

Even with the suit, it hurts. Jagged lumps crash into his back, pelt his already aching arms, bash his head further into the rocks. 

It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care, just let them live, take him instead -

(Wait, what-?)

He doesn’t remember losing consciousness, but the next thing he can recall is a ringing in his ears and the realisation that the ground around them is still. 

“Virgil, get out of there!” John’s voice cuts across his comms, and Virgil opens his eyes.

“Faroqh?” he murmurs. “Leila?”

He feels one of them say something in his chest, senses slowly coming back online. Unfortunately, the fact that every single part of his body is in agony also makes itself known, and Virgil groans, shifting against the weight on his back.

“Virgil? Jesus, Virgil, talk to me. Scott - do you have eyes on him?”

“Almost,” Scott’s voice is tight with poorly-concealed anger and concern. “Virgil, do you copy?”

“Y- yeah,” Virgil manages, then coughs harshly.

“Status?”

“I think - I think they’re both fine. One is definitely c-conscious.”

There’s a pause and then Scott says, even more tightly. “And you?”

“Nothing broken I don’t think.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Scott says grimly.

Virgil closes his eyes again, because he’s so tired and he doesn’t have the energy for Scott’s hypocritical bullshit right now, but he must have lost more time because the next thing he knows, the weight on his back has lifted and strong arms are dragging him upwards.

His older brother is there, eyes a battleground between worry, fury and yet more worry. Virgil loosens his grip on the children, looking up at Scott. “Scott, I had to, they’re just kids-”

Faroqh stifles a cry and Scott’s eyes snap to him. “Give them to me.”

“I just - can you - Leila wasn’t speaking - is she-?”

Scott presses his fingers to her throat and there’s an agonising pause. “She has a pulse.”

“Thank God,” Virgil murmurs, slumping back and releasing his grip on the children.

“Thank God?” Scott repeats incredulously. “Virg - I don’t - I -”

“Don’t do this now, Scott,” John’s voice is quiet but authoritative. “Wait for me, please.”

Scott closes his eyes briefly. “Deal,” he mutters, and then picks up Leila’s body, stretching his other hand out to Faroqh. “I’m going to take these two out to Gordon and Alan. And then I’m coming back for you. Don’t you dare move.”

Faroqh accepts Scott’s hand but looks anxiously at Virgil, who does his best to smile encouragingly. 

And then Scott is gone and Virgil is alone in the mess he’s created. 

The weight of realisation comes crashing down around him, even harder than the building fell, and it’s a punch to his already fragile ribs. He does his best to focus on breathing rather than the swell of shame and self-loathing that’s ballooning in his chest because he really fucked this up. Virgil can feel his control beginning to slip and digs his fingers into the bruises on his legs. The pain grounds him momentarily, but only leaves him emptier when he stops. And so he only stops when Scott’s silhouette fills the entrance once more.

As Scott approaches, furious concern has him practically vibrating with emotion. Virgil takes a deep breath, choking down his own self-loathing for now, accepts the hand up and staggers into his brother’s side as the pain hits him in full. He may not have broken anything but his entire body feels like it’s been used as a punchbag and it hurts. 

Scott’s grip tightens around his waist and the worry intensifies. “Can you make it out?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. (Probably is more honest). 

Leaning heavily into Scott, they make their painfully slow way to the door, out to where a pair of anxiously-hovering brothers are waiting for them. 

Alan barely restrains himself from lunging at Virgil, eyes overly bright. “Virg - are - are you okay?”

“Fine, Allie,” Virgil says, pointedly ignoring Scott’s irritable snort of disbelief. 

Gordon’s expression is caught between relief, worry and anger, but the former wins over and he hurries to Virgil’s other side. “What were you thinking, Virg? Going in without backup?”

“Not now, Gords, I promised John we’d wait for him. Let’s just get this moron home first.”

Virgil’s mind is struggling to compute the words whilst also concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. “Wait - John’s coming.”

“Yup.” Scott’s mouth is so thin it’s a grim slash. 

Well, shit. 

*

“You’re not flying home. No fucking way.”

“She’s my ship.”

“I. Don’t. Care. You just got injured and you’re not fit to fly.”

“Scott, it’s just bruising-”

“And a probable concussion,” chimes in Gordon, standing his ground when Virgil shoots a glare at him.

“You’re not flying and that’s an order.”

It’s not often that Scott pulls rank on him - it’s a cold day in hell when he has to - and it’s the shock of it that causes Virgil to spit “yes, Commander” with such venom. He loathes himself for the hurt he knows will be in Scott’s eyes but stalks to the passenger seat without meeting his gaze. Scott watches him for another few seconds and the stare burns right down to Virgil’s soul, scorching across his anger and burrowing right into his guilt. 

But he still can’t meet his brother’s eyes. 

Scott turns, leaves and Virgil sags in his seat. He doesn’t say a word whilst Gordon starts Two’s engines, not even when he revs a little harder than is necessary. He can’t bring himself to answer a single one of Gordon’s attempts at humour and eventually, Gordon lapses into silence too. 

Virgil’s head is in turmoil and his chest is heavy - heavier than it’s ever been. There’s a mounting dread about the screaming match he’s about to have with his brothers (because he knows it’s coming). Guilt and shame over what he put his brothers through with his antics (because that haunted look is back in Scott’s eyes and Virgil hates that he put it there) battling a self-righteous assurance that he did the right thing in rescuing those kids. Embarrassment that he fucked up the one thing he thought he could do. Gnawing anxiety over nothing he can place specifically but it’s there and it’s overwhelming. Misery that he failed, yet again, sending him straight back to the pit he’d been stuck in before all of this happened.

Above everything though, spreading insidious arms and draping its poisonous cloak over all, is an exhaustion so intense and so absolute that Virgil does not want to exist. 

(God, he’s so tired). 

*

In the infirmary, Scott helps Virgil out of the exo suit at last, sucking in sharp breaths at the sight of his brother’s skin mottled purples and blues. 

(“Jesus fucking Christ, Virg”).

Scott is as gentle as possible whilst checking for cracked bones and yet Virgil still has to grit his teeth not to wince at his touch. Eventually, Scott seems satisfied with his findings - as satisfied as it’s possible to be when his younger brother looks like a messy oil painting of angry bruising - and allows Virgil back into a sitting position to run through some mental exercises. 

It’s as Virgil is answering Scott’s questions without complaint that John bursts through the doors, heading straight for Virgil like a missile. 

John grabs him by the shoulders and shakes, uncharacteristic panic blazing in his eyes. "What the hell, Virgil? It's never you! You're supposed to be the one I can trust not to pull stupid shit!”

“Johnny, you - you shouldn’t be up yet,” Virgil says weakly, “gravity-”

“No, you don’t get to tell me to take care of myself right now-”

“Less of the shaking please, John,” Scott cuts in. He’s taken a step back, arms folded. 

John nods, releasing Virgil apologetically, but the verbal assault continues. “What were you thinking? No, scratch that, you obviously weren’t thinking at all.” In contrast to Scott’s, John’s anger is quiet. Virgil would rather be shouted over by Scott than reprimanded by John any day; John knew exactly how to let you know that you had disappointed him. 

Virgil takes a deep breath in spite of this. “I was thinking that there were two people who needed to be saved.”

“Are you being serious? That’s your excuse for going in alone, without telling anyone where you were going or waiting for backup? That aftershock could have killed you, Virg.” John’s voice trembles and he swallows viciously. “For a moment, I was so afraid it had.”

There’s a pause, in which the guilt might swallow Virgil whole, chew him up, spit out his bloody remains before his brothers. There’s nothing he can say but Scott and John look so expectant that he feels compelled to justify himself.

“I didn’t know there would be an aftershock.” 

“That’s not the point, Virgil, and you know it!” Scott explodes. “You didn’t tell us what you were doing, you had nobody watching your back-”

“They were children. They were children and they needed me.”

“We need you.”

“Stop acting like you wouldn’t have done the same, Scott!” Virgil doesn’t know when they started shouting but now he can’t stop. “Don’t act like you haven’t pulled this shit on me a hundred times! Stop being such a goddamn hypocrite-”

“It’s not the same, Virgil. It’s just not.”

“Oh sure, because you’re Scott Tracy, you get to do whatever you like, fuck the consequences-”

“Because I have you watching my back,” Scott yells.

It all goes very quiet and Virgil’s mind is blank.

“What?” he whispers.

Scott looks physically pained, forcing his answer out like pulling glass from a wound. “I’m not saying it’s fair or right, Virg. But I know that whatever stupid thing I do, I have you stopping me from going too far. Pulling me out when it goes wrong. And I know it puts too much pressure on you, and I am sorry for that - I am. But what you did today - you didn’t let us help you. You didn’t let me help you.”

(This is about more than just today and Virgil can feel it in every exhausted cell of his body but fuck, he doesn’t have the energy to hash that out now. He just wants to go to bed and sleep and sleep (and never wake up?)).

John speaks up now, holding Virgil’s gaze with the same anger, only it’s not really anger, Virgil realises. It’s love, marred by fear and stress. “Going into that situation without backup was suicide, Virg.”

A pause. 

“I’m not - you don’t think that I’m -” Virgil splutters, though he doesn’t know if the denial is more for his benefit or theirs. They’re wrong, he’s sure of it, they have to be wrong.

“We - we know there’s something going on with you,” John says, glancing at Scott. “And - and after today, we’re even more worried.”

“We care about you, Virg.” Scott’s eyes are wide, pleading. “Why won’t you let us help you?”

(Because I despise every single thing about myself, but most of all how much I’m burdening you all. Because you deserve better than my weakness. Because it’s not worth it). 

(He says none of that, obviously. Even if he wanted to, his throat has gone dry and his brain seems to be stuck on John’s words like a scratched record).

He needs to get out.

The realisation sucks all the air from his lungs. 

Anxiety rising so fast he thinks he might be sick, Virgil stands. “I - I can’t -” (breathe)-

Shove past Scott and John who are looking at him with such lost expressions Virgil can’t bear it. Inhale around the tightening band of guilt and panic-

Almost at the door and they haven’t tried to stop him - he’s not sure why this hurts more than their protests would have. Exhale and feel lungs constrict even further-

He makes it to the door, and now, exit strategy in his grasp, he can breathe. He stops, one hand on the doorframe and half-turns. Scott’s eyes take on a hopeful gleam and Virgil feels terrible for being the one to stamp that out. “They were children. Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, stumbling on autopilot back to his room, sinks down into his duvet and succumbs at last to the panic attack. 

When it’s done - for now, at least - he lies in his own sweat and taut muscles, drained in every sense of the word. 

What the fuck is he doing?

Virgil doesn’t understand why he’s pushing away all the people who love him, nor why the thought of exposing this ugly, aching part of himself to them is utterly unbearable. Existing like this - so miserably and shamefully - is unbearable and he can’t face it anymore. He wants to cry. His chest aches with it and yet he can’t even muster the energy to do that.

Instead he lies there for hours, mind racing with reminders of his uselessness, body aching from his failings, soul longing for an endless sleep. 

[fionamccall]

Hester Thrale remembers Dr Johnson

I’ve joined the Chawton House reading group which discusses the work of female writers of the 17th/18th/19th century.  This month we were reading  Hester Lynch Piozzi/Thrale, Anecdotes of the Late Samuel Johnson (1786).  It was full of funny anecdotes of Johnson, perhaps less familiar than those in Boswell.  Here are some of my favourites.

Johnson’s comments against the Scots are legendary, 

Another famous reply to a Scotsman who commended the beauty and dignity of Glasgow, till Mr. Johnson stopped him by observing, “that he probably had never seen Brentford”.

Our group felt that Johnson advocated surprisingly modern ideas on the upbringing of children, against too much homework, or being forced to parrot off their knowledge to adults, as he had been forced by his parents to do. You get the impression there were some awful parents of this type about, from the story of a friend who told him his two sons should repeat Gray’s “Elegy” to him alternatively, for him to judge which one did it best, “No, pray, sir, said he, let the dears both speak it at once; more noise will by that means be made, and the noise will be sooner over”.

John Aubrey claimed that the idea of adult children being forced to kneel down in front of their parents went out with the Civil War.  But even in the 18th century some still had expectations that children show their parents singular respect: 

Mr. Johnson caught me another time reprimanding the daughter of my housekeeper for having sat down unpermitted in her mother’s presence.  “Why, she gets her living, does she not, “ said he, “without her mother’s help? Let the wench alone,” continued he ... “Poor people’s children, dear lady,” said he, “never respect them.  I did not respect my own mother, though I loved her … when in anger she called me a puppy, I asked her if she knew what they called a puppy’s mother.”

Similar obeisance was also apparently expected to college tutors (I wish!) 

Meeting … Mr. Jordan in the street, he offered to pass by without saluting him, but the tutor … stopped, and inquired what he had been doing, “Sliding on the ice,” was the reply … He laughed very heartily at the recollection of his insolence.

But Johnson had regard for his tutor in other ways:

Mr. Jordan, his tutor, had much of his affection, though he despised his want of scholastic learning. “That creature would,“ said he, “defend his pupils to the last: no young lad under his care should suffer for committing slight improprieties, while he had breath to defend, or power to protect them.”

Good principles, indeed, for any university tutor.

Mrs Piozzi gives many examples of comic parodies Johnson composed extempore, including the following piece of silliness:

Hermit hoar, in solemn cell

Wearing out life’s evening grey

Strike thy bosom, sage! And tell

What is bliss, and which the way?

Thus I spoke, and speaking sighed,

Scarce repressed the starting tear,

When the hoary sage replied,

“Come, my lad, and drink some beer.”

Piozzi’s account has been described as having touches of bitterness. She characterises Johnson as indifferent to the minor cares of his friends, including those mourning for the dead, but extraordinary generous (and useful) to those living in genuine need,

... he was called abruptly from our house after dinner, and returning in about three hours, said he had been with an enraged author, whose landlady pressed him for payment within doors, while the bailiffs beset him without; that he was drinking himself drunk with Madeira to drown care, and fretting over a novel which, when finished, was to be his whole fortune; but he could not get it done for distraction, nor could he step out of doors to offer it to sale.  Mr Johnson therefore set away the bottle, and went to the bookseller, recommending the performance, and desiring some immediate relief; which when he brought back to the writer, he called the woman of the house directly to partake of punch, and pass their time in merriment.

... something in Dr. Goldsmith’s behaviour struck me with an idea that he was the very man, and then Johnson confessed it was so; the novel was the charming “Vicar of Wakefield”.

Johnson did not always suffer fools gladly:

A young fellow, less confident of his own abilities, lamenting one day that he had lost all his Greek - “I believe it happened at the same time, sir,” said Johnson, “that I lost all my large estate in Yorkshire”.

Mrs Piozzi gives many examples of Johnson’s Latin compositions in poetry and monumental inscription, but says that he professed so ‘loudly’ his lack of skill in Greek, that when a Danish nobleman was brought to meet him the man thought to attack Johnson on his ‘weak side’, but came of the worse for the encounter, “Oh, no, he knows nothing of Greek”, Johnson was heard saying afterwards “with a loud burst of laughing”.

He could show surprising sensitivity to the feelings of those of lower status.  According to Hester Piozzi he kept for many years a cat called Hodge, 

but so exact was he not to offend the human species by superfluous attention to brutes, that when the creature was grown sick and old, and could eat nothing but oysters, Mr Johnson always went out himself to to buy Hodge’s dinner,

that his black servant Francis’s,

delicacy might not be hurt, at seeing himself employed for the convenience of a quadruped. 

Johnson eventually left his estate to Francis, although quotations in the book show that he shared the racial prejudices of his time in seeing black people as inferior.

Our group speculated, given the examples of Johnson’s eccentric and often difficult behaviour, and his mental health issues, whether he might have been on the Asperger’s spectrum. His love of arithmetic perhaps might fit with that:

When Mr. Johnson felt his fancy, or fancied he felt it, disordered, his constant recurrence was to the study of arithmetic, and one day that he was totally confined to his chamber, and I inquired what he had been doing to divert himself, he showed me a calculation which I could scarce be made to understand, so vast was the plan of it, and so very intricate were the figures; no other, indeed, than the national debt …

Johnson’s greatness of spirit came from his charity, both literally to the many poor people he supported in his modest London home, and in terms of his understanding, akin to Shakespeare, of the natural human inclination to weakness and error.  As a great Tory and Church of England man, the following quote is thus hardly surprising:

how comes your Puritanical spirit so offended with frivolous and empty deviations from exactness? Whoever loads life with unnecessary scruples, sir,” continued he, “provokes the attention of others on his conduct, and incurs the censure of singularity without reaping the reward of superior virtue.

I loved the description of how a laboratory was set up at the Thrales’ house at Streatham for chemical experiments one summer, ‘drawing essences and colouring liquors’.  But Johnson having such extreme short sight that he burnt all his wigs reading books closely by candlelight, these experiments were a menace to all concerned. Common sense soon prevailed, and the laboratory was shut down by sensible Mr Thrale.

Mrs Piozzi’s anecdotes, written quickly, act like a stream of consciousness rather than being organised in any particular fashion.  The author anticipates our criticisms.  “Stories of humour do not tell well in Books”, she writes, 

The cork model of Paris is not more despicable as a resemblance of a great city, than this book ... as a specimen  of Johnson’s character.  Yet everyone naturally likes to gather little specimens of the rarities found in a great country; and could I carry home from Italy square pieces of all the curious marbles which are the just glory of this surprising part of the world, I could scarcely contrive, perhaps, to arrange them so meanly as not to gain some attention from the respect due to the places they once belonged to.  Such a piece of motley Mosaic work will these anecdotes invevitably make.  But let the reader remember that the was promised nothing better, and so be as contented as he can.

[fbwzoo]

I don’t know what to do because my mom wants to get an African gray and I’ve heard how difficult they are to care for and how they really shouldn’t be pets at all. But whenever I tell my family about this they say telling mom would be rude and to let her do what makes her happy (I’m known as the know-it-all and Debby downer of my family because of issues like this haha). I keep subtlety suggesting to get an easier, more ethical species but she wont have it. Any suggestions would be appreciated.

Oooof, that’s always a difficult situation. I would definitely try to talk to your mom alone, without the rest of the family around to make comments & be discouraging or insulting towards you & make it more likely for her to dismiss your concerns.

When you talk to her, maybe come prepared with some websites that have info on care needed, enrichment, intelligence, etc. You know your mom best, so how to present the information will depend on what approach you think will work best for her. Being direct & telling her that you’re concerned it’ll be too much & here’s the evidence for why; saying that you were curious because she was so excited about the idea, so you looked them up & found some good info; explaining that you want to help make sure the bird gets what they need & so you went looking for info to help out; so on. 

That said, if she can handle the demanding care & emotional and cognitive needs of an African grey (well, as much as human caretakers can, anyway), it’s not necessarily bad as long as she looks to adopt one. There’s a lot of them out there in rescues that need homes, due to how long-lived they are & how demanding their care is.  A good rescue will be able to prepare your mom further by explaining what the individual bird needs, as well as giving her more information about that bird’s history, personality, likes/dislikes, and health. And good rescues are also pretty cautious about who they’ll adopt larger parrots out to, due to their intense care needs and how intelligent & social they are. The one near me requires that their basic care class be attended by most interested adopters (except for  finches, canaries, doves, quails, budgies, lovebirds and cockatiels). So they’ll likely put your mom through a long adoption application, questioning about care knowledge & plans for providing parrot with care, and possibly more (like the class or visits/volunteering for parrot handling practice).

So if you can at least convince her to look into a good rescue for this endeavor, that may do a lot to help your situation, either by making sure she’s as ready for the situation as she can be, or by making her realize what she’d be getting into & deciding against it. 

Good luck! ♥ I hope all ends well either way. 

[demonicfrustration]

// This prolly won’t concern you unless you’re one of the 3 people playing in my human verses BUT! I’m going to try writing an AU V as well because I adore him??

So his info will be under the cut! 

THE BASICS

Full Name: Vitale Sparda Nickname(s): V, Vee Age: 22 Gender: Male Pronouns: he/him Orientation: bisexual Occupation: college student. He’s majoring in both English Lit and Drama

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Owen Hamze Hair Colour: grey, dyed black Eye Colour: green Height: 6′4″ Build: skinny Tattoos: two full black and grey floral sleeves and a matching chest piece Piercings: nipples and ears Clothing Style: every piece of clothing in his wardrobe is black

HEALTH

Physical Ailments: widespread arthritis. he needs a cane most of the time to get around and on his worst days he’s bed bound. Sleeping Habits: Either he’s up for 3 days running on nothing but coffee or he’s slept for 13 hours and you’re left wondering if you should call the doctor Eating Habits: picky and with no set schedule, his meds can sometimes fuck with his stomach Sociability: Despite being the quiet type, he actually really enjoys the company of others. If you start talking to him, he will not try to run off– In fact, if you get him going he can chat for hours.

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: scholarly, empathetic, humorous Negative Traits: stubborn, quiet, proud Goals/Desires: his main goal was to be a stage actor, but with his pain he’s now switching to become both a playwright and a poet Fears: his body becoming so useless that he’ll become both a burden and unable to do the things he likes Hobbies: reading, watching old musicals, taking care of his pets Habits: underestimating others and overestimating his energy levels

FAVORITES

Weather: warm and breezy. anything too cold will cause him pain. Color: black and dark forest green Music: goth rock, alternative, musical theatre Movies: drama, horror, period pieces Sport: Eeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhh Beverage: he’s a tea junkie for sure Food: anything easy on his stomach and gently sweet Animal: cats

FAMILY

Father: Vergil Sparda Mother: Unnamed. Siblings: Nero Biancardo (half brother) Pets: Griffin (a very chatty and rude parrot), Shadow (a black cat, big baby), Nightmare (a big fat mean sphynx)

[benjamin46wise-blog]

Baffled About An Individual Finance Situation-Get Assistance Here!

소액결제현금화 Few subjects have the sort of influence on the lives of people and their families as that of individual financing. Education is important if you want to make the best financial relocate to guarantee a safe future. By utilizing the suggestions contained in the article that follows, you can prepare yourself to take the needed next steps. It is necessary to bear in mind not to risk more than 2 or three percent of your trading account. This will help you to keep your account longer, and be able to be more flexible when things are going great or bad. You will not lose everything you have worked hard to earn. Start saving money in a routine savings account. It will not help your credit report right now, but it will offer you the security to deal with concerns that may occur. The lack of a cost savings is what causes a lot of accounts to enter into default. Ensure you cans survive momentary issues that might develop a good emergency situation savings account. Prolonged service warranties can reduce your individual finance. Almost every product made, features a warranty that lasts for 90 days or even up to a year. This is when the parts are more than likely to break. By acquiring an extended guarantee, you might possibly simply be tossing money away. This is especially real with electronics because they enhance so quickly, that you will wind up purchasing a new one, before the warranty is up. A home and an automobile are most likely going to be the largest purchases you need to make. Payments on your home and vehicle are practically particular to comprise most of every month's budget plan expenses. You can pay them off faster if you add an extra payment or put any of your tax refund towards it. If you have more than one student loan, consider combining them. Consolidated loans can be secured at a low interest rate, frequently lower than the interest rates on your original loans. You likewise have the option of extending your loan payoff duration if requirement be. Contact the firm that holds your student loans to see if you certify. Trying to stay as healthy as possible and curing any minor sicknesses in the house will prevent one from making trips to the health center that are not necessary. These trips that are prevented will save one big quantities out of their individual financial resources. Any trip that is prevented will undoubtedly save one cash. Breeding birds can yield one excellent quantities of money to increase that persons personal finances. Birds that are specifically important or uncommon in the family pet trade can be specifically financially rewarding for a specific to reproduce. Various types of Macaws, African Greys, and many parrots can all produce child birds worth over a hundred dollars each. Personal finance is something that has been the source of great frustration and failure for lots of, especially in the mist of the challenging financial circumstances of current years. Details is a key factor, if you want to take the reins of your own financial life. Use the concepts in the preceding piece and you will start to assume a higher degree of control over your own future.

[tiktokparrot]

African Grey Parrot’s Nail Biting!

Why is your African Grey Parrot biting its nails? Is it just regular grooming, or could there be something more going on? In this video, we dive into the reasons behind nail-biting behavior in African Grey Parrots and what you can do to help.

We’ll cover everything from normal grooming habits to potential signs of anxiety, boredom, and even health concerns. We’ll also discuss helpful solutions, like providing enrichment toys, and keeping their nails at a comfortable length.

Whether you're a new African Grey owner or have been caring for these intelligent birds for years, this quick guide offers valuable insights to help you understand your parrot's behavior. Enjoyed the video?

Like it if you did, leave your thoughts in the comments, and don't forget to subscribe for more African Grey insights.

[ourcounselindia-blog]

LONELINESS: The Ant Theory

Loneliness is a complex and usually unpleasant emotional response to isolation. Loneliness typically includes anxious feelings about a lack of connection or communication with other beings, both in the present and extending into the future. To be happy, we need intimate bonds; we need to be able to confide, we need to feel like we belong, we need to be able to get and give support. Of course, being alone and being lonely aren’t the same. Loneliness feels draining, distracting, and upsetting; desired solitude feels peaceful, creative and restorative. There are several types of loneliness. Of course, not everyone experiences loneliness in the situations described — for instance, not everyone wants a romantic partner. But for some people, the lack of certain kinds of relationships brings loneliness. Once we’ve pinpointed the particular kind of loneliness we’re experiencing, it may be easier to spot ways to address it. 7 Types of Loneliness 1. New-situation loneliness You’ve moved to a new city where you don’t know anyone, or you’ve started a new job, or you’ve started at a school full of unfamiliar faces. You’re lonely. 2. I’m-different loneliness You’re in a place that’s not unfamiliar, but you feel different from other people in an important way that makes you feel isolated. Maybe your faith is really important to you, and the people around you don’t share that — or vice versa. Maybe everyone loves doing outdoor activities, but you don’t — or vice versa. It feels hard to connect with others about the things you find important. Or maybe you’re just hit with the loneliness that hits all of us sometimes — the loneliness that’s part of the human condition. 3. No-sweetheart loneliness Even if you have lots of family and friends, you feel lonely because you don’t have the intimate attachment of a romantic partner. Or maybe you have a partner, but you don’t feel a deep connection to that person which in turn bring feeling of loneliness. 4. No-animal loneliness Many people have a deep need to connect with animals. If this describes you, you’re sustained by these relationships in a way that human relationships don’t replace. Many

people feel like something important is missing if they don’t have a dog or cat (or less conveniently, a horse) in their lives. 5. No-time-for-me loneliness Sometimes you’re surrounded by people who seem friendly enough, but they don’t want to make the jump from friendly to friends. Maybe they’re too busy with their own lives, or they have lots of friends already, so while you’d like a deeper connection, they don’t seem interested. Or maybe your existing friends have entered a new phase that means they no longer have time for the things you all used to do. For example, everyone has started working very long hours, or has started a family, so that your social scene has changed. 6. Untrustworthy-friends loneliness Sometimes, you get in a situation where you begin to doubt whether your friends are truly well-intentioned, kind, and helpful. You’re “friends” with people but don’t quite trust them. An important element of friendship is the ability to confide and trust, so if that’s missing, you may feel lonely, even if you have fun with your friends. 7. Quiet-presence loneliness Sometimes, you may feel lonely because you miss having someone else’s quiet presence. You may have an active social circle at work, or have plenty of friends and family, but you miss having someone to hang out with at home, whether that would mean living with a roommate, a family member, or a sweetheart. Just someone who’s fixing a cup of coffee in the next room, or reading on the sofa. Most of us can relate to that. Understanding Loneliness What makes us feel happy and content in life? Some people may point to fabulous fame and fortune. Yet hands down, surveys show that friends and family are the real prize. Even though our need to connect is innate, some of us are always home alone. On the flip side, a person could be surrounded by people throughout the day or even be in a lifelong marriage, yet he could still experience a deep and pervasive loneliness. Isolation affects all types and ages of people, but some are more in danger than others. Young people are at high risk of isolation. It doesn’t matter if a teenager has 500 Instagram connections, a vast network doesn’t ameliorate the emotional desolation of loneliness. Fewer and closer personal relationships are what really matter. Another age group at high risk is the very old. Research reports that more than 20 percent of people over age 60 feel lonely—frequently and intensely. As we age, friends and family age with us, and sometimes we are the last ones standing. Getting out to meet new people isn’t always easy for the very old. Yet it is imperative to connect, even a friendly exchange of smile with a neighbour can help.

Lonely Ants Die Young: They Don't Know What to Do When Alone. Socially isolated ants lose digestive functions and suffer due to this loss There are always "surprises" that cross my desk concerning the cognitive and emotional lives of nonhuman animals (animals). For example parrots dying very young when they're forced to live alone, Captive Grey Parrots Suffer from Social Isolation Loneliness. Now we know that an invertebrate, namely carpenter ants, also suffer from social isolation. In a landmark paper published in the journal Behavioral Ecology and Sociology by researchers Akiko Koto, Danielle Mersch, Brian Hollis, and Laurent Keller called "Social isolation causes mortality by disrupting energy homeostasis in ants," we learn that young ants who are forced to live alone die much younger than group-living ants. The abstract for this paper reads as follows: Social deprivation can have negative effects on the lives of social animals, including humans, yet little is known about the mechanisms by which social withdrawal affects animal health, resulted in important behavioral changes and greatly increased locomotor activity. The higher activity of single ants and their increased propensity to leave the nest to move along the walls suggested that the increased mortality of isolated ants might stem from an imbalance of energy income and expenditure. This view was supported by the finding that while isolated ants ingested the same amount of food as grouped ants, they retained food in the crop, hence preventing its use as an energy source. Moreover, the difference in life span between single and grouped individuals vanished when ants were not fed. The results show that isolated ants lived only six days, whereas group-living ants lived up to ten times as long (averaging 66 days of life). Group-living and food sharing may be important for survival This study on ants shows that social isolation and health are closely related and much more research is needed in this area. It's notable that "even ants" show a negative reaction to loneliness, as do many other species, including humans. It should also be noted that because ants show such negative responses to social isolation, they should not any longer be forced to live alone.

[charlottecampana]

African Grey Parrot For Sale UK

african grey for sale (Psittacus erithacus); two subspecies Congo: larger body, light-grey coloration, all-black beak, and bright red tail feathers Timneh: smaller body, darker-grey coloration, flesh-colored top half of beak, and dark maroon tail feathers Weight: 330-500 gm Young birds have dark grey irises that turn pale yellow at 1 year of age Sexual maturity: 4-6 years Avg. life span: 25-30 years Maximum recorded life span: 50+ years

Enclosures should be as large as possible, such that the bird is able to fully extend it’s wings and flap without touching the cage walls Cage should be clean, secure, safe and constructed of durable, non-toxic materials Perches should be of variable widths, heights, and textures. Also provide a concrete perch to help to maintain the toenails. Avoid placing perches directly over food or water to prevent contamination Access to natural light is preferred, and supplemental UV light may be recommended to treat or prevent feather picking or hypocalcemia. Avoid drafty areas. Parrots should stay in their cage or a “bird safe” room when they are not under direct supervision. Birds with unrestricted access to the home are at risk for accidents such as toxin ingestion, electrocution, pet attacks, and drowning. Preventive Care.

Physical examinations every 6-12 months Consult a veterinarian with experience in avian medicine if you have any questions or concerns about your bird’s health. Annual fecal examination for parasites, yeast, and bacteria Vaccination for Polyomavirus, as directed by your veterinarian Routine blood testing Wing, nail trimming as needed

african grey parrots for sale UK Common Medical Disorders

Behavioral problems (e.g. feather picking, fearfulness, aggression) Respiratory diseases Hypocalcemia syndrome Circovirus (PBFD virus) Nasal blockages (bacterial, fungal, secondary to malnutrition) Proventricular dilatation disease (PDD)

[paytonhand]

African Grey Parrot For Sale UK

african grey for sale (Psittacus erithacus); two subspecies Congo: larger body, light-grey coloration, all-black beak, and bright red tail feathers Timneh: smaller body, darker-grey coloration, flesh-colored top half of beak, and dark maroon tail feathers Weight: 330-500 gm Young birds have dark grey irises that turn pale yellow at 1 year of age Sexual maturity: 4-6 years Avg. life span: 25-30 years Maximum recorded life span: 50+ years

Enclosures should be as large as possible, such that the bird is able to fully extend it’s wings and flap without touching the cage walls Cage should be clean, secure, safe and constructed of durable, non-toxic materials Perches should be of variable widths, heights, and textures. Also provide a concrete perch to help to maintain the toenails. Avoid placing perches directly over food or water to prevent contamination Access to natural light is preferred, and supplemental UV light may be recommended to treat or prevent feather picking or hypocalcemia. Avoid drafty areas. Parrots should stay in their cage or a “bird safe” room when they are not under direct supervision. Birds with unrestricted access to the home are at risk for accidents such as toxin ingestion, electrocution, pet attacks, and drowning. Preventive Care.

Physical examinations every 6-12 months Consult a veterinarian with experience in avian medicine if you have any questions or concerns about your bird’s health. Annual fecal examination for parasites, yeast, and bacteria Vaccination for Polyomavirus, as directed by your veterinarian Routine blood testing Wing, nail trimming as needed

african grey parrots for sale UK Common Medical Disorders

Behavioral problems (e.g. feather picking, fearfulness, aggression) Respiratory diseases Hypocalcemia syndrome Circovirus (PBFD virus) Nasal blockages (bacterial, fungal, secondary to malnutrition) Proventricular dilatation disease (PDD)

[livingcorner]

Birdbath, food or water? How to attract your favourite birds to your garden

This summer, when a rainbow lorikeet or kookaburra comes to visit your home, what will you do? Will you offer them a slice of apple, or simply watch until they take flight?

It brings many people joy to provide food and water for birds, to encourage them to stay a while and be given the chance to observe them more closely. But some people are reluctant to interact with birds in this way because they’re worried it might damage the birds’ health.

You're reading: Birdbath, food or water? How to attract your favourite birds to your garden

In contrast with other countries, little research has been done on the effects of feeding birds in Australia. As a result, there are no established guidelines around how to feed and provide water for local birds.

Kookaburra having a snack. Photo supplied by Wanda Optland, provided by author.

That’s why we ran the Australian Bird Feeding and Watering Study. We asked nearly 3,000 people to monitor the birds that visited their feeding areas and birdbaths. We wanted to know if there was a difference in the species that visited different types of gardens.

We examined the numbers and types of birds visiting:

birdbaths where no food was provided

birdbaths where food was provided

bird-feeders where birdbaths were provided

places where only food was provided.

The early results from the winter stage of the Australian Bird Feeding and Watering Study suggest that if you provide food and water, you will get more birds in your garden. But the species you attract will depend on what exactly your garden has to offer.

Common bronzewings like to eat seeds. Glenn Pure, CC BY-NC

Providing different combinations of food and water will attract different species.

Granivores

Granivores are seed-eating birds. They include species such as parrots, crested pigeons, sulphur-crested cockatoos, crimson rosellas and galahs.

Read more: How To Start A Monarch Butterfly Garden At Home

Gang gang cockatoos refresh themselves in a garden. Glenn Pure

We noticed a spike in the number of granivores in gardens where both food and birdbaths were provided. But when food was on offer, fewer granivores chose to use the birdbath. We don’t yet know exactly why this is, but it could be because these seed-eaters need less water, or they can get it more easily from other sources than they can food.

Also, most of the bird food sold in shops is seed-based. People who buy these products will naturally attract more seed-eating birds to their garden.

We were, however, surprised to see crested pigeons visiting gardens where food was provided. These birds are only recent urban arrivals, and were previously restricted to semi-arid environments as opposed to the more urban areas where most of our citizen scientists lived. But crested pigeons are very adaptable and now compete fiercely for food and territory with the introduced spotted dove in some Australian gardens.

Many people derive great joy from feeding Australian birds.

Nectarivores

“Small” nectarivores are nectar-eating birds that weigh less than 20 grams. The main birds in this group are New Holland honeyeaters, eastern spinebills and Lewin’s honeyeaters.

The early results of our study suggest small nectarivores prefer gardens with birdbaths more than their granivore and insectivore friends. In fact, it seems that these small nectarivores like birdbaths so much, they will choose birdbaths over food when both are provided.

“Large” nectarivores are nectar-eating birds that weigh more than 20 grams. These species including noisy miners, rainbow lorikeets and red wattlebirds – seem to prioritise food over birdbaths. This may be because they’re looking for a source of protein that they can’t easily find in their natural environment.

Rainbow lorikeets seem to prioritise food over birdbaths. Photo supplied by Wanda Optland, provided by author.

Honeyeaters – such as Lewin’s honeyeaters, blue-faced honeyeaters and noisy miners – will forage on nectar but will eat insects as well. They switch from one to the other, but once they have found their meal they will defend it vigorously from other birds.

Honeyeaters will forage on nectar but will consume invertebrates as well. Photo by Wanda Optland, supplied by author.

Insectivores

Insectivores feed on insects, worms, and other invertebrates. Some insectivore species include superb fairy-wrens, willie wagtails and grey fantails.

Insectivores are most attracted to gardens where both food and water are provided. While superb fairy-wrens were frequently found in gardens where food was provided, willie wagtails and grey fantails preferred to visit gardens where only water is provided.

The striated thornbill feeds mainly on insects. Glenn Pure, CC BY-NC

Many people have told me how confident fairy-wrens and willie wagtails can become around houses and gardens. These tiny birds can be bold and aggressive, and can work together to get what they want. A mum and dad fairy-wrens will conscript their older children into looking after younger ones – and siblings who refuse to help find food and defend territory may even be kicked out of the family. So these tough breeds have a competitive advantage in their new urban environments, and aren’t afraid to mix with or even chase off bigger birds.

Read more: Preparing a Vegetable Garden Site

Fairy wrens can become surprisingly bold around gardens and houses. Photo by Wanda Optland, supplied by author.

Bolder than they look – a fairy wren eats from a citizen scientist’s hand. Peter Brazier

You may be wondering exactly what type of seed to put out to attract which granivore, or which meat attracts a carnivore like a Kookaburra. I’m afraid we can’t yet say for sure, as we are yet to analyse the data on this question. Watch this space.

We don’t yet know exactly what offering will attract which bird. Janette and Ron Ford

Could birds become reliant on humans for food?

Many people worry that birds will become reliant on humans to provide food for them. But this mightn’t be as big a concern as we once though.

The birds turning up at feeding areas and birdbaths are species that are highly adaptable. Many Australian birds live long lives, and relatively large brains when compared to their European counterparts. Some experts have argued that some Australian birds have evolved a larger brain to cope with feast and famine conditions in the Australian environment.

White browed scrubwrens feed mostly on insects. Glenn Pure, CC BY-NC

Many Australian bird species can switch easily between estates and gardens in one area, be semi-nomadic, fully nomadic or seasonally migratory. This ability to adapt and switch between diets makes Australian bird species very resourceful, innovative and adaptable.

Of course, Australia also has birds that have highly specialised diets or habitats, and they’re the ones usually most threatened or limited to one territory – birds like the regent honeyeater or ground parrot. In this study, we’re concentrating on birds that are adapting to urban areas and turning up at birdbaths and feeding areas in gardens.

A crested pigeon tucks in. Brad Walker

Building our knowledge of bird feeding behaviour

We plan to develop guidelines around providing food and water for birds in a way that has the highest conservation value for our feathered friends. But before we can do that, we need more data from you.

So please take part in the summer stage of the study and pass the word around to others who may wish to be involved.

The summer survey will run for four weeks, beginning on January 30 2017. Visit feedingbirds.org.auto download the complete report on our early findings or to register to take part in our summer study.

Different species may congregate at a feeding spot. Brad Walker

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

source https://livingcorner.com.au/birdbath-food-or-water-how-to-attract-your-favourite-birds-to-your-garden/

[geenewshd]

The conservation group of World Wildlife Fund (WWF) has released a report indicating the 'catastrophic decline' in wildlife due to human destruction. Published by BBC, the report indicates that wildlife populations have fallen by more than two-thirds in less than 50 years. This loss of wildlife is generated due to habitat issues, including deforestation. The report has warned that the catastrophic decline in wildlife is not slowing down as nature is being destroyed by humans at a rate never seen before. According to Chief Executive of WWF, Tanya Steele wildlife is suffering immensely as humans continue to burn forests, destroy wild areas and over-fish our seas. "We are wrecking our world - the one place we call home - risking our health, security and survival here on Earth. Now nature is sending us a desperate SOS and time is running out,” she said. After observing thousands of wildlife species across the world, the report noted an average 68% fall in more than 20,000 populations of birds, mammals, amphibians, reptiles and fish since 1970. The largest declines in the wildlife are observed in tropical areas. The drop of 94% for Latin America and the Caribbean is the largest anywhere in the world, driven by a cocktail of threats to reptiles, amphibians and birds. The African grey parrot is endangered due to habitat loss and wildlife trade The report further stated that the recent coronavirus pandemic has reminded world of how nature and humans are intertwined. As per WWF, this loss of wildlife can be reversed if concerned authorities take urgent conservation action and change the way they live and sustain. https://www.instagram.com/p/CE8nsycF0nv/?igshid=udoh3iypotcr