The Velociraptor Diaries

September 24, 2021

Neither words nor pictures can accurately describe the ridiculous reaction I just got from Isaac and Hayes as I burst into their aviary singing “Defying Gravity” from Wicked at the top of my lungs.

Isaac: “Dude! It’s 9:30 in the morning! What is wrong with you?”

Hayes: “YEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!! Today, the aviary. Tomorrow, the world! AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

We all knew what we were signing up for going into this. 🤷‍♀️

Tuesday, August 17, 2021

[Yes, I know this now is even later than it already was.]

Dear You,

I am sure that all of you (and by all of you, I mean, most likely, my five loyal followers and my parents) have been worried sick about why, after two whole consecutive posts, I went radio silent. Talk about inconsistency! *dramatic soap opera hand to forehead* To be honest, I was unsure what to write about, as there is something very serious happening on the horizon that requires some even more serious background information, but I didn’t want to have my third post be…that post, especially since my last post was somewhat off-topic. After giving it some thought, I have ultimately decided to put that one off, at least for now, and talk about today’s…adventure? Sure, we can call it that. It’s actually not even confined to today…it has all just been leading up to today.

The net. Ah, the net. You…don’t need me to define that word for you, right? Oh, you do? Well, you know, a net…that thing that catches and holds things, usually made of some kind of rope, comes in various forms and sizes for various purposes…look at me, I’m a veritable dictionary! Right, so, shortly after the Dragons arrived at my house, I noticed that Hayes was having trouble staying balanced, and would fall off of the frame, usually during the night while she was asleep. (This obviously led to further investigation, and later, a diagnosis, but we don’t have to get into that now.) One of the solutions for this, aside from covering my floor with every soft thing in the house (seriously, I would have just slept on the floor of the aviary had it not been for, you know, all the falling poop), was to put up a big rope net underneath the frame. This was meant to act as a buffer, so that if she fell, hopefully she would land on the net instead of plummeting to the floor. It did end up working some of the time. I noticed on the security camera footage that sometimes she would actually hit the net and bounce over the edge…not good. Sometimes she managed to miss the net entirely. But sometimes the net would catch her, and that was certainly better than nothing.

Installing it was no easy task. To start with, the nets we use at the sanctuary, and subsequently, the ones that I use, are from a company called Aronico. They are really fabulous, and they employ craftspeople in the Philippines to make these incredible canopy nets by hand out of rope made from untreated abaca, specifically for birds to enjoy. They are rather expensive, but they are beautifully made, and the craftspeople are paid fair wages, which is insanely important, so of course I’ll shell out for that. Here’s where it gets complicated. Their biggest net is 4′ x 8′. Now, the Velociraptors have a frame that covers roughly 8′ x 8′ (ish, I haven’t really measured exactly), so I have to get two nets and tie them together in the center. Thankfully, the sanctuary gifted me with one in January to help with my setup post-adoption, for which I am incredibly grateful. To keep it from sagging in the center, and therefore preventing it from fulfilling its parrot-catching purpose on the edges, I added a lower level to their frame, giving them a beautiful, three-level, highly climbable habitat with an added level of safety as well.

They hated it.

They hated it, and they hated me for having the audacity to put it in their space. “How dare she?! What nerve! This…this…human–ugh!–thinks it can just waltz in, turn our spacious jungle gym into a pirate ship, and expect us to just…use it?! Absolutely not! We’ll show her! We won’t use it. We won’t even go near it! Let’s go as far away from it as possible!” So, in addition to attempting to murder me and eat my eyeballs while I spent hours troubleshooting how to hang up this net, and finally figuring it out–all for their benefit, mind you–they managed to find a place to sleep that was just enough on the edge so that when Hayes fell, of course she missed the net. I tried to adapt it to their new sleeping space. I drilled new holes in the ceiling and added new hooks to give it a wider area of coverage. I played with the tension in various ways to try to get it to sit flatter. I tried having the edges come up higher. (I would like to note here that, no, I’m not an idiot, I was not ignoring the very obvious potential of attaching supports to the floor. I couldn’t do that because, given access to the floor, Isaac and Hayes get very nesty, which also means they get very territorial. This entire setup is floating in the middle of the room for a reason, and that did make setting up this net exponentially harder.) Nothing worked.

UNTIL!

Until I added a dried white birch branch on the lower level. I wove it through the net on a diagonal, allowing it to push the net out on either end, and tied the net to it in the middle, and voila! Suddenly, their interest was piqued. Well, I say suddenly, but it still took them about a month to actually go down to the lower level and explore the net. In the meantime, I had found a relatively good solution to their edge-related stubbornness. Once they actually discovered that the net was something they could climb on, they were delighted! “Wow, why didn’t she tell us this was for us?!”

Wow. I wonder. *Sigh!*

It didn’t take long for them to chew through that birch branch (honestly, I can’t blame them, I’ve had birchbeer before), and I had to figure out another solution, but it was a little easier to do once they decided that the net wasn’t their sworn enemy. There were still net-related problems. These nets are fabulous when used as climbing walls, or even as “canopy” nets to climb on, as the name suggests. Their intended use isn’t necessarily to catch falling macaws. But you know what the nets are REALLY good at? I bet you can guess. That’s right…no matter how many times Hayes missed the net when she fell, the net has always been fabulous at catching falling poop. And let me remind you, these are two very large macaws (ie. there’s a lot of poop.) Very large macaws who don’t like people in their space. Now I had put myself in the position of needing to get WAY up in their space on a regular basis if I wanted any hope of keeping these nets clean. These very porous, poop-collecting nets. I have various ways of keeping them clean…I use a scraper, a scraper on a stick, a hard-bristled brush, a spray bottle (which they hate), the hard-bristled brush again…sometimes I’ll just bite the bullet, get on the floor, and crawl underneath it, shower of poop be damned. (My mom did always tell me, “soap and water works wonders. Just get dirty. You can get clean later.” Oh, Mama, if you only knew. Oh, wait…you do! Thanks, Mom!) All of these are just to put off the inevitable, which is, of course, taking down the nets and washing them, which I have to do about once a month. I will not sugarcoat this: It. Is. A. Royal. Pain. In. The. Ass. Not to mention, the first time I took them down, the Dinosaurs were furious with me! They were furious with me for putting them up in the first place, but god forbid I should take them down with the intention of returning them sparkling clean. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. (Psst! This is what it is like living with dinosaurs!) Then putting the net up again takes forever while I am dodging their attempts to remove various body parts that I thought belonged to me and trying to talk Isaac down from his “charge” stance. I always end up with a few extra holes in my shirt, and if that is all I end up with, I consider it a win.

So let’s fast forward. Lately, despite providing them with a variety of delectable and colorful things to destroy in various textures and flavors, the Velocidragons decided that the time had come to focus on what they hadn’t focused much on before: rope. And not just any rope, no no. Abaca. Beautiful, carefully crafted, hand-woven abaca rope nets. They had done a taste test at the beginning of their net discovery period and destroyed a few edges, but it was nothing I couldn’t fix with a little creativity. This time, they were going for complete and total destruction. Ignoring the much more durable sisal rope that is all over the frame, wrapped around perches, sticking out of toys, even holding parts of the net together, they went for broke. Literally. Literally in more than one way. I came into the aviary one afternoon to find Hayes on the floor underneath the frame. Confused, after getting her back up to her perch, I noticed that there was a sizeable hole chewed through the net under her favorite lower-level spot. However, there was no way she could have slipped off of the perch, as there was too much rope to hold onto. I checked the camera footage, and discovered that the perfect storm of stupidity had aligned in the most ridiculous way. You see, their favorite spot on the lower level is under the platform, which they like to climb on. She was climbing down to get to her spot when she slipped and fell right in the exact spot where she had chewed through the net. If she had slipped six inches in any other direction, she likely would have landed on the net and been able to catch herself. Nope. Not this time. Chewed a hole, then fell right through it. Thankfully, it was from one of the lower spots on the frame, so no damage was done. Well, not to Hayes.

This chewing frenzy continued until they had chewed clean through the entire width of the net. I wove some thick sisal rope through it and pulled it back together. Nope. They pulled that behind them and went to work on the next row. I would come in each day to see piles of dust on the floor that were once rope, and pieces of sad, stringy rope remains hanging off of what was eventually just…a rope with a few knots in it.

The time had come for a new net. Two, in fact. The other one was hanging down to the floor, with similar stringy bits falling from it daily. I had attempted to satisfy these cravings by making a “ropetopus” at my mother’s suggestion. They want nothing to do with it.

Today, the new nets arrived, and I am out $330 (again, money well spent.) I am afraid to put the new nets up without a significant amount of new toys to distract them, however, as I genuinely cannot afford to buy new ones more than twice a year. I was struck with a brilliant idea. Perhaps I could salvage what was left of the nets and make toys with them that the Dragons could destroy at their leisure without compromising their safety! Yes, I would try that. So I pulled the front net down (the one in worse shape) and left the back one up for now. The look of indignation on their faces…”I’ll bring it back, I promise!” I kept trying to reassure them, but to no avail. I was, once again, the enemy. “Isaac, the dust is making you sneeze! You are literally turning these into dust and it is making it hard for you to breathe, you silly bird.” “No! I refuse to see reason, despite the fact that I am sneezing while you tell me this. Achoo! I did that on purpose. To prove a point. Achoo! Dammit…”

I took the Item Formerly Known As Net outside, draped it over a ladder (with some difficulty, I admit, as it is, as I mentioned, no longer a net), and POWERHOSED IT. Dust, poop, food, none of it stood a chance against me and my trusty…honestly, it’s just a garden hose, but hey, it has that “stream” setting that we all know is way too powerful for plants and is clearly meant for defending yourself against zombie attacks or nosy neighbors or, in this case, bird poop. I left it to dry in the driveway, draped over the ladder, and put the hose away. I came around the corner, saw it out of the corner of my eye, and was momentarily startled. I’m sure you can see why. It looks like a large, scraggly muppet.

And now we are here. I am sitting in the aviary with the Dinosaurs that probably intend to sell my entrails to some crows in exchange for some blueberries, and I cannot give them a new net until tomorrow at the earliest.

In the meantime, let’s hope bribery works, and let’s hope I can whip up some really nice toys that will satisfy their bloodlust. (For the record, I just heard a quiet crunching sound, looked over, and saw Isaac staring me right in the eye while simultaneously dissecting a sizeable piece of red pepper until he was finished, dropped the skin on the arm of my chair, and walked away from me. Heh…I’m not nervous at all. Please send help!)

And thus concludes this iteration of my adventures in trying not to die at the beaks of my prehistoric companions. I wish you all a pleasant week. Hopefully I survive long enough to tell you all how this ends, which is preferably not with my untimely and grisly demise.

Don’t forget to eat meals, drink water, take your medications, vitamins, or both, stretch and move your bodies, and get plenty of good rest. Also, please do your best to avoid death at the beaks of your prehistoric housemates, should you have any.

I love you all so very, very much.

Love,
Julian

Dear You,

Hello again, and welcome to the second installment of The Velociraptor Diaries! Like any good writer, I am already veering off the original topic. BUT. Isaac and Hayes are still relevant, and I will tell you why, of course. Just not yet. I’ll tell you when it makes sense to the story. So here we go.

Monday, August 2, 2021
Something thoroughly and completely magical happened to me on Friday, and it just got more and more magical throughout the entire weekend, which is also, conveniently, how long it took me to write the entire story out. I am very excited to share this with you! Buckle up, though, because this is a long one. I think it’s worth the read, but I am certainly biased.

On Friday, after I left the sanctuary, I took a detour to drop off a trumpet I had borrowed from a former musical director (that is another fun story, but very irrelevant, so I won’t get into it.) As I turned onto his street, I noticed a monarch butterfly in the middle of the road (it was a very busy road with one of those center turning lanes in it…the butterfly was in the middle of the center turning lane, right in front of where I needed to turn.) The butterfly was flapping its wings very slowly, and that didn’t seem normal to me, so I was concerned. I seem to have a knack for noticing these things from my car, no matter how small they are. I was two minutes away from my destination, and I kept going, which I immediately felt guilty about, but I promised myself that I would come back and grab it if it was still there. I quickly dropped off the trumpet and said I had to run, and promptly rushed back to the end of the street, where I stopped the car. Sure enough, the butterfly was still there, in the middle of the hot road, flapping its wings, and generally in distress. I thought, “well that definitely doesn’t look right.”

I waited for a couple of cars to go by, rushed out into the middle of the road, and offered the butterfly my hand, saying, “hey, friend, let’s get you out of the street, OK? This isn’t a safe place for you to be.” It quickly climbed onto my fingers, as if it had said, “yes, thank you, this is very unsafe,” and I blocked the wind with my other hand and ran back to my car. I heard a quick honk from behind me, and when I turned around to look, someone in another car who had seen me do this gave me a thumbs up. That was refreshing, as I have had the cops called on me for checking an abandoned pet crate in the meridian of the highway before. (There was no pet inside of it, thank goodness, but people get very upset with me for doing things like running across the highway to pick up raptors or check an an abandoned pet carrier. That one was fun because, having done nothing wrong, and finding no animal in need of assistance, I drove away before the cops arrived, and called my mom and said, “Mom, I’m on the lam!” For the record, I have never stopped or blocked traffic or done anything illegal. People are just funny about that stuff, I guess. I don’t know.) Anyway, I was trying to take a look at this butterfly, but the wind was strong and it kept trying to fly, but was having some serious trouble, so I brought it into my car to take a closer look. It turned out that the very end of its abdomen looked slightly squished. Its exoskeleton was cracked and its inside bits were definitely visible in a way they shouldn’t have been. Its back wing also kept sticking to the injury, which left residue on the wing and threw off its balance, making it impossible for it to fly. However, this injury didn’t appear to be fatal on its own somehow, in that the butterfly was in good shape aside from being, uh…gutsy. It was crawling all over me in the car, so I found an empty cardboard fruit carton to put it in for the car ride (perfect!) and covered it with my watercolor pad, promising that I would take it out as soon as we got home, which I did.

I gave her (I learned that she is a she — her name is Clementine) a more thorough assessment when I got home, and wanted so badly to find a way to wrap up her back end, but experts all say it is better not to mess with them when they are injured, as painful as it may be to see them like that. There was no way I could release her outside, as I don’t have any flowers blooming, and she definitely cannot fly. She was very eager to step onto my hand, but then would try to flap, and would flutter to the floor with a tiny, butterfly-sized “thunk,” which I couldn’t bear to see. No way I was leaving this little creature outside. But I knew absolutely nothing about taking care of butterflies. I posted on Facebook asking for some help, and who should message me but a very beloved sanctuary volunteer and dear friend of mine, who of course has a friend who hatches, cares for, and releases butterflies! They offered to get in touch with their friend for me, an offer which I happily took them up on. They passed a great deal of very valuable advice to me from said friend (thank you again, you know who you are!) and I was able to gather enough information to set Clementine up nicely for the night. I put her little cardboard fruit carton inside a bird carrier. (I have a “Wingabago” — a very nice, acrylic parrot carrier — that was generously given to me to use as a makeshift oxygen tank if I ever need one for Isaac, so Clementine was set up nice and proper.)

While this happened, another friend of mine messaged me with some info from their experience hatching butterflies, and recommended grape Gatorade as a nectar drink. Grape is apparently the sweetest. I went to the corner store, but they only had “low sugar” grape, which was the opposite of what I wanted! So I drove to the pharmacy/grocery store, and on my way, I passed a house I have passed perhaps thousands of times before. It’s a magical looking house with an absolutely MAGNIFICENT garden. Just bursting with flowers, but it also has some fun little additions that make it just Fae enough for you to tell that it’s magic. There is a perfectly crooked “Black Lives Matter” sign hanging on the porch, and one of those, “in this house, we believe…” signs in the garden, partially hidden by the flowers. Throughout the garden were sprinkled these very tall, spiral wooden stakes that added an air of whimsy that I was personally very drawn to. I impulsively turned the car around and stopped in front of the house. I decided that it couldn’t hurt to knock on the door, so that’s what I did. I had never met the owner(s) of the house or the cultivator(s) of the garden. The door opened to reveal a small-framed, older woman with shiny, silver-blond hair swept back into a wispy bun, pink-rimmed glasses, a small, fluffy, white dog behind her, and a smile on her face that was shining like the very stars themselves. She was just dripping with magical energy. It was flowing off of her like waves of moonlight. She was so beautiful, and she had such an incredible presence. Even her little dog had a magical glow. This is the kind of person I want to be like when I grow up. Yes, I’m 30. I know what I said. “This…makes so much sense,” I thought to myself. Awestruck, I said hello, explained that I had an injured butterfly but no flowers in my yard, and I was wondering if I could take a few flowers and some milkweed leaves from her beautiful garden. Before I even finished asking, she was nodding, smiling. She said, “of course, yes. Thank you for saving the butterfly.” She even asked if I needed something to cut them with. I also thanked her for her magical garden and asked if she was a fairy. Eh…I’m not sorry for asking that because she laughed a magical, jingling laugh that sounded like little bells (my favorite sound!) As I was talking to her, a man walked by and said, “excuse me, I just want to thank whoever is responsible for this. *gestures to the garden* It is so beautiful, and I love walking by, especially at this time of night.” She thanked him, laughed again, and said, “well, this is…heartening.” Her starlight smile was so lovely. I asked if she recommended any flowers in particular, and she said she thought everything blooming right now was something that butterflies like. I told her I would be sure to bring by something as a thank you, and she countered by saying, “let me know how the butterfly does.” I said I would. I want to have tea with her. What a wonderfully magical encounter. This whole thing has been magical. And there is MORE magic in this story!

Fast forward to when I got home. I arranged the flowers in a little vase of water, and they smelled wonderful. Clementine was perched on the top corner of her fruit carton, ignoring the piece of juicy plum I left out for her, and generally looking very sad. I carefully put the container of fresh-cut flowers in the center of the carton, and WHOA. She came ALIVE! Not that she wasn’t alive, but she was still and sad, and I have never seen anything like this before. It was as if the scent of the flowers uplifted her in a magical way (I said this story was full of magic!) She turned, opened her wings, and practically hurled herself upon the little bouquet, proboscis out, and dove head-first into some pink phlox. I didn’t know that butterflies were capable of expressing emotion so vividly, but this butterfly was undeniably delighted, which made ME undeniably delighted! I was enthralled watching her gleefully move from flower to flower, and then she finally came to rest on the flower stalk of some sweet-smelling mint, where she stayed for the night. I put a shallow dish of water in the carrier with some rocks in it for her to rest on, and wished her sweet dreams.

I gave Clementine some watermelon before I left for a meeting at the theatre the next afternoon, where I planned to stay for the show that evening. The friends of mine who came to see me in the previous show will remember the beautiful garden surrounding the patio, which doubles as an outdoor stage. Of course, after the show, I asked the owner of the theatre if I could take a few fresh flowers for Clementine. He said of course. (This is when I learned that the pink and purple cluster flowers are called phlox.) When I came back, I discovered that she hadn’t moved from where she was when I left earlier that day. Growing concerned that she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink, I took her out of the carrier, along with the water dish, and put together a sugar water concoction. I was told by my friend that I could teach her how to drink it by using a toothpick to gently unroll her proboscis, but as soon as I put her on the water dish, she started to drink, and when I put the homemade “nectar” in front of her, she immediately switched to that, and I was glad I didn’t have to get so close to her with something pointy. Cue the scary part of the story:

As I was moving her off of the water dish to put it and her back in the carrier, I think I got her foot stuck in between one of the rocks and the edge of the dish. Her foot and the bottom of her leg were suddenly useless! (Don’t worry, this part has a happy ending.) I was absolutely devastated. I had been so grateful that I was able to retrieve this poor little butterfly, and I was amazed that she survived having a cracked exoskeleton, but knowing that she couldn’t fly, I was absolutely beside myself that I had taken away her ability to walk properly. I tested her foot, and it was unresponsive. The other feet worked fine, but her back left foot/leg was dragging, and she wasn’t hooking her little prongs (did you know butterfly feet are like little two-pronged forks? I didn’t until Clementine!) She wasn’t moving much anymore, and I was frantically messaging my THIRD butterfly expert friend, worried that my sweet girl wouldn’t make it through the night because I had taken away her remaining ability to get around. I couldn’t stop crying. There was nothing I could do for her physically, so I put her on the water dish with the nectar solution in front of her. I cried and cried, and I apologized profusely, and I told her how much I loved her. I am not a religious person, but when I am dealing with animals and insects, I feel most closely connected with the Fae. I begged the fairies over and over to please help, to take away any pain she might be experiencing, to heal her foot and leg, that she didn’t deserve this, she was so strong, and this was my fault, but I didn’t mean to, etc. I did my best to give her some reiki before turning off the lights and dragging myself to bed, weeping. I couldn’t fall asleep until after 4am. When I woke up, I went downstairs to check on her. Prepared for the worst, I was astonished to see that not only was she still very much alive, she had climbed up the side of the wall (I put some big leaves up the sides) to the top of a leaf, and her leg was as good as new! I was amazed! It was like that fairy tale where the cobbler goes to bed and discovers in the morning that the elves have made him all these amazing shoes to sell overnight. I don’t know the details of butterfly physiology and how well they heal from injuries, but this was pretty incredible to see.

Yesterday (Sunday, August 1), on my way to the sanctuary, I stopped at a plant nursery and got her a wide variety of potted flowers (including phlox!) so that she can enjoy the normal ways of being a butterfly. I also ordered her a special butterfly enclosure made of mesh so she can climb up the walls, which also arrived yesterday. I haven’t had a chance to set up/transfer her to the new habitat, but was hoping to do that today. She’s a lovely little darling. I have found that she won’t really eat or drink unless I take her out and put her on the dish outside the enclosure, but I think she enjoys the company and the interaction (as do I!) She becomes very active when she sees me and hears me say hello to her. When I reach my hand in, she eagerly climbs onto my fingers, and she really likes sitting on my hand! (How silly is it that I now have a butterfly that will “step up” and two birds that will do nothing of the sort? ) Bonus: every time I open the enclosure, I am greeted with a wave of sweet smells as the fragrance of the flowers fills the air around me. I think that must be nice for her to be surrounded by.

I am so grateful that this story turned out to have a happy ending. Well, mostly. As all creatures eventually die, and butterflies have a short lifespan, after writing the previous paragraph, I came downstairs to discover the inevitable. Unfortunately, my sweet Clementine died sometime between last night and this morning. I am, of course, heartbroken, and I miss her like crazy, but I am heartened by the fact that I was able to give her a few extra precious days, and I know that she died a happy little butterfly. I don’t know how long she was supposed to live, but I know she lived longer than she would have if she had stayed in the middle of that hot and busy road. Plus, I have experienced people show some real loving kindness towards a well-meaning gal and her little butterfly friend. That is truly invaluable.

Clementine insisted on spending as much time on my hand as possible before bed last night. Perhaps she knew her time was coming and wanted to enjoy as much as she possibly could before she left this plane. I do genuinely believe she was having a grand time…I have never seen a butterfly do what she did before, but I think “happy” and “having fun” are certainly accurate ways to describe some of what I watched her experience.

If a butterfly joins you, know that it is a blessing. If a monarch pays you a visit, I hope you think of my special little lady. Whoever says you can’t make a butterfly strong never had the pleasure and privilege of meeting my sweet, magical little Clementine.

Some words of Love for Clementine:
Rest peacefully knowing you are loved, sweet darling. I love you so much. Thank you for bringing so much extra joy and knowledge to my life in the short but meaningful time you shared your existence with mine, and thank you for letting me bring you into my home. Sweet dreams, precious one. Fly free and enjoy your wings again. I know some sassy birds that I’m sure would LOVE to meet you!

I loved to sing to her, of course, so I will share with you the updated lyrics of the classic “Clementine” song that I adapted to better fit our particular situation, and sang to her as often as I could, and will sing to her to send her off:

Oh my darling, oh my darling,
Oh my darling Clementine,
You are here, so safe forever,
Glad I found you, Clementine!

Here is a short video of her drinking happily (I’m sorry it’s an external link, I can’t upload it directly to this page as of right now, but I promise the link is safe.):
https://photos.app.goo.gl/Tkfeng1aCFuCBjjaA

I did promise you that Isaac and Hayes were relevant. Here is where they come into play. You may be surprised to learn that aggressive, untouchable macaws can be incredible emotional support companions. Surprised or not, believe it. Isaac and Hayes have a very special ability. Like most parrots, they can sense when a human is feeling “off.” They know me very well now. After I found Clementine, I went back upstairs to grab their food and water dishes to change them. I sang them their usual morning songs, and in the middle of “I Love You, a Bushel and a Peck,” I broke down and started to cry. They have seen me do this before. It is interesting, because they mimic my laughter when I laugh, and when I cry, they sort of do the same, briefly, as if it helps them register what’s happening. As is their usual behavior when they see me cry, they stopped what they were doing and rushed to the edge of the frame to where I was. They must have been a little confused, as I don’t think I have ever broken down in the middle of a song before, but they didn’t seem too fazed by it. They cocked their heads to the side, made their little “what’s wrong?” noises, and switched places with each other a few times. This is their support routine. Then I tell them what’s going on and they listen. This time, I sat down on the floor in front of the frame and sobbed for a moment. They just waited patiently, occasionally mimicking the sounds I made, this time as if to express that they were present with me, that they were still there. Every time they hold space for me to cry, it makes me cry harder for a little while, because I am so overwhelmed by their capacity for emotion and love. Then they listened as I told them why I was so upset. They deserved to know. If they are able to understand that I am in distress, they deserve to know why, and I fully believe that, to a degree, they absolutely understand when I tell them. Why else would they listen so carefully? These “little monsters,” as I jokingly call them, aren’t monsters at all. I joke that they are, mainly because they are feisty little rascals and can be jerks sometimes, but they are really two of the most incredible, magical creatures I have ever had the privilege of knowing. They are people. They just also happen to be parrots. Well, dragons. Well, velociraptors. You know what I mean. I love them, and I couldn’t have asked for better support for a broken heart today, especially after losing a friend that I couldn’t really touch, but loved all the same.

If you’re still reading, thank you for sticking it out to read the whole story! There is a podcast version of this blog, also brand new, and also called The Velociraptor Diaries. You can find it on Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts! Episodes will follow blog posts, and will be pretty similar, if you prefer to listen to your blogs on your music app or podcatcher. There will be things in the podcast that won’t be here, though, just like the audio and writing here includes things that the podcast won’t. 😉 And of course…

Don’t forget to eat meals, drink water, take your medications and/or vitamins, stretch and move your bodies, and get plenty of good rest!

I love you all so very, very much.

Love,
Julian, Isaac, Hayes, and Clementine