My Dad Gives Birds to People 🐦

G’day all you people persons! I hope you still remember me. I’m Poops the perky punky parrot ... well cockatiel actually, but most folks don’t know their birds from their middle finger. That’s what my dad says and he should know, cause he “gives the bird” to lots of people who are digitally challenged. 

Some of you may know my dad  He tells me he’s an ambassador bee who makes honey by telling stories on beBee.com and that he visits hives. I’m not very clever but, when my dad’s in the shower, I can see he doesn’t have a pointy tail and black and yellow stripes. He doesn’t even have wings. He does call my mum Honey, however, so maybe that’s what they make in the big sleeping room. 

I hope all you peoples have read the blogs that I made with my dad before. He says that he put them in his Cafe beBee hive and that lots of you found them there. They’ll pop up if you click on these funny shaped blue letters below. My dad says that they're 'Italy-sized'.  Gee whiz, Italy must be a really small country!!!

Another-spiel-from-the-tiel

My-dad-says

My-dad-likes-honey

Anyway, I’m talking to you peoples again because I miss you, especially the ones who wrote nice messages to me before. My dad says that lots of you have stopped going outside and have lots more “time on your hands“. So maybe you’ll type to me (you know, on that long keyboard thingamy that my mum tells my dad is "permanently glued to your hands"). Maybe you can tell me what you do with all these time things on your arms? My dad has a big piece of ‘time’ on his wrist, with a face and two hands. My dad says it’s a ‘watch’, but he doesn’t watch it much.  He also says that this watch lets him know when it's time for him to come and go, but I’ve never heard it say a word. If you have lots of these time things on your hands or arms do they talk to you?

My dad says that all you peoples don’t go out much anymore, because of a Mexican beer that can make you sick. My dad used to drink beer a long time ago. I'm not sure if the beer made him sick, but he used to spend a lot of time afterwards, looking at the big white porcelain throne seat, up very close, and talking to his good friends “Ralph and Huey”. 

I don’t go out much, so this Mexican beer virus hasn’t changed my life much. My dad, however, now spends much more time at home, which lets me talk to him much more than before. I don’t use ‘people speak’ but squawk a lot to get what I want. Dad understands and knows exactly what I say.  He also knows when I want seed-food, water-food and people-leftovers-food. He gives me boiled rice, boiled egg white bits and crushed almonds which are all yummy, and he scratches my head, which I really, really like a lot. 

But I don’t think my mum likes my squawking. She keeps saying “shut up”, even when my cage door’s closed. This confuses me cause my cage door swings out and in and neither ‘up’ nor down. 

I’m getting quite old for a cockatiel. I don’t fly much these days, but I can still jump up and down and ring my bell, and run across the floor faster than my mum’s vacuum cleaner can chase me. My dad calls me a “silly blogger” (well that's what I think he says) when I run across the floor, but I think my blogs are real cool. What do you peoples think?

My dad says that many bloggers who used to be on beBee are now "in Active", drinking Mexican beer.  I'm not sure where Active is, but it can't be near where we stay in Brisbane, or my dad and I could pop round and visit you all.  I'd bring some of my special spring water that my dad gives me, so you don't have to drink that horrible Mexican beer, and some of that nice seed from the supermarket for you, in case you're hungry.  My dad says it's sometimes hard to find seed, cause it runs out.  I don't understand why the supermarket peoples allow the seed boxes to run away.  Perhaps they don't treat them very well?

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Oh, yes, and my dad says that I should add something at the bottom about him. So here is something I found on a post that he wrote from his own bottom.

http://ken-boddie.squarespace.com "

Poops' dad, Ken Boddie, besides being a sometime poet and occasional writer, is an enthusiastic photographer, rarely leisure-travelling without his Canon, and loves to interact with other like-minded people with diverse interests.

Ken's three day work week (part time commitment) as a consulting engineer allows him to follow his photography interests, and to plan trips to an ever increasing list of countries and places of scenic beauty and cultural diversity.