Lately, I have been falling into a nasty habit: I have started to mutilate my feathers on my chest and neck. Fortunately, I don't remove them, but I snap little pieces off, so that they start to look fringed on the edges. I am a very happy little creature and I have enough hobbies and toys to keep myself busy, but still I find the time to bite my feathers. The family has decided not to give it too much attention; they hope it will disappear again in time. They know I am healthy, happy and content. I get the right food and a great variety of veggies, am showered with attention and have a large cage, so that can't be it. They think the reason might be that I was taken away from my natural parents so young that I never got the change to learn what proper grooming means.
I had a major panic attack! Jan and Sophia continued where they left off yesterday: they took me in the car again, closed the door (gently) and Jan started the car. Boy, was I scared. I tried to fly through the car window, to the back seat and on the front mirror. Finally, I crept under Sophia's arm and stayed there, panting. I hate the car. It messes up all my feathers.