Spring is in the Air

And so is yet another of my birds. After the lovebird flew the coop last week, I decided to try spend more time training the cockatiel in the link above. Whenever you stick a hand in the cage instead of stepping up on your finger, it dips its head to the ground so you can pet it there. I was gently trying to get it to do the former. Bad idea. It got out of the cage and flew up on top of my head (its default resting place). Knowing I only had seconds, I slowly made my move to secure it, but before I could do so, it was off to the races!

This bird was cute but pathetic and not too bright, always allowing the much smaller lovebird to bully it. No sooner had it taken off, it was being chased by a sparrow half its size that had it scared to death. I don't give a very high chance of survival.

Maybe for the sake of fairness and ceremony, I should just open the cage door of my remaining Indian Ringneck (not a Conure!) and let it fly off too. If I could keep these things in the house it would be easier to secure them, but allergies became a concern.

Heart-Breaker

Yesterday I briefly shared for 5 or 10 minutes again at the afternoon children's outreach of the Presbyterian church I've been beginning to partner with the last couple of months. They do a such a wonderful job in entertaining and sharing with the kids every week for 2+ hours (they need prayer for wisdom in avoiding burn-out, however).

Yesterday one older child I sat beside for two weeks who sort of seemed to have latched onto me from the first week introduced me to his younger brother, who hasn't come nearly as often.  He had a nasty bruise on his face just under his right eye.

Later I learned from the young woman who heads up the ministry that the bruise is the result of what you may have already have guessed: a father who beats him often.

Evidently these two brothers have a sister who is disabled, which qualifies the family for free governmental financial assistance. Unfortunately, the mother and father only use it to finance their drinking and gambling habits. Breaks your heart. I'd prayerfully like to pay them a visit with the children's worker sometime in the not-too-distant future.

Indiana Jones and our Vanished Attention Spans

In the Washington Post article Indiana Jones and the Meaningless Void, Hank Stuever strives in vain to find ultimate meaning in the Indiana Jones movies:

"He's changed (thicker torso, craggier face) and we've changed (vanished attention spans, deadened senses). He's 60-something now, and we all think we're 23... Perhaps it was only ever about the fedora. Indiana Jones wasn't about anything, except the triumph of brown leather jackets, and the way men felt wearing them on their adventuresome, tiresome Casual Fridays....Every office still has that guy who thinks he looks great in a fedora."

Why am I reminded of some of the more recent  pseudo-Christian John Eldridge books? And what were/are the Indy movies ultimately all about? What movies are generally about: escapism. Fun. Like Spielberg and Lucas have said it since 1981: All we wanted to do was have fun. I'll look forward to seeing it eventually.