“Good morning, Squeaky Pie!” “It’s not a good morning. The sun’s hiding. It’s cold outside. It’s cold in here. Turn up the heat!” I fluffed my feathers to make my point. To other hootmans this sounded like squeals and whistles, but not to Momanita. She MOSTLY understood cockatiel speak. I MOSTLY understood hootman talk. “IContinue reading “A Helping Hand (Or Beak)”