It never even opened its eyes…

Advertisements

The Baby Bird Has Feathers!

 

Here it is, begging for food. This picture isn't very good, but...

If you look closely, you can see just a bit of olive green there.

 

Shark teeth!

 

Though I am still mourning the loss of my other bird Carmen, I have some other news: The other bird has feathers! I took some pictures so you can see. The black things aren’t wings, they’re shafts, and if you look very closely you can see a bit of olive green at the back. There are also golden white feathers on its chest, too! It’s kind of hard to tell, ’cause the shafts there are the same color as the feathers, but its kinda cool. And, yours truly has shark teeth (for a limited time only, though). Awesome, huh? Also, what does a bird look like when it opens its eyes? Please leave a comment below, and I’ll be back soon. Peace.

My daily journal entry… Horses

I don’t know when it was that I stopped liking horses, though I suspect it was during the school year. It’s not that I don’t like horses. I love their majestic manes, their soft, glossy fur, their big black eyes. I’m just scared of riding them.
From the moment I got to camp, and clambered over the back of one of the horses, something just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was because of last summer, when I was unceremoniously thrown from Taffy’s back (and I don’t blame her, as I know exactly how it went down and besides, she was my favorite. I blame CB and Neville.), but I was scared. But I couldn’t back out of an activity I’d already signed up for, so I just had to cope. And please don’t give me that “conquer your fears” talk, ’cause trust me, it’s a lot harder than it sounds.
For some reason, I was calmest around Sheila, who surprisingly, had tossed off a rider and survived a backwards somersault. But when I was around her, I couldn’t see that side that had freaked and done a flip, ’cause she was extremely quiet and docile. She was perfect for me.
I had two good friends in my horse riding class: Lydia and Raya. Lydia has been my friend since last year, and Raya I had met in drama class.
I don’t think I’ll ever step foot in the riding area again.
It was Mom’s Weekend, when our moms came to our camp, set up tents, and watched us do our activities. Since Claire and I have different schedules, my mom had to split activities with us. She’d watched me riding.
My mom accidentally caught part of the fiasco on video tape, if you want to see it.
We were each doing a trot around the arena. That’s when my mom started recording. I got through it okay. Actually, I was just glad it was over with. It was Raya’s turn that got messy.
I’ve forgotten what her horse was called, but I do know that the counselors claim he is psychic. I don’t really know, as I’ve never actually ridden him, but I think I’m gonna have to take their word for it.
Raya had a good trot going about halfway around the arena, but that’s when her horse started to slow down. So she gave him a good kick… A little too hard.
Her horse’s trot turned into a canter.
The rest is just a blur of memories, but I can remember Raya’s scream, her frantic pull on the reins, spooking the horse into flinging her into the hard wooden fence. The rest of us were in a pileup in the corner, with a riderless horse charging right at us.
It made a smooth turn and rushed another horse.
Luckily, the riding staff caught both of the horses then. Raya and the girl on the other horse were crying, and Lydia, who was right next to me, raised an eyebrow.
To my embarrassment, I found myself crying.
The weaker baby bird died today.

My daily journal entry… sinamun

Some time ago, I was chatting with my friend, Kristen, on Gmail. I wanted to see her Zimmertwins videos, and she mine. But neither of us really knew how to view the others’ videos. So she gave me her username, and I gave her mine, which was sinamun. And then she asked me how to pronounce it.

I felt a little bit embarrassed then, ’cause although sinamun is a play on words (the word being cinnamon), it does come with its disadvantages.

Have you ever owned a webkinz? If you have, you will know that when you reach the tournament arena, your username is shortened to the first three letters. For example, if your username was volleyball9160, and you had a goldfish named Fluffy, you’d be vol with Fluffy with a picture of Fluffy.

You get it, don’t you? So other people see me as sin with Sabine. Sin. Owch. But I can’t talk about that right now ’cause Daisy found some baby birds and we had to feed them bread saturated with milk and-

Calm down. Calm down. Okay, so here’s how it all started. I was writing in my journal at the black table, when Daisy came in from the kitchen holding a small, origami made box, probably made from a magazine page (we always keep a few of those on the microwave) and plonked it down next to the water jug. Naturally, Claire and I looked in. And what were in there? Baby birds. And I’m not talking about those adorable fuzzy little chicks you see in movies or stuff like that. No way, Jose. I’m talking two featherless, miniscule babies, who haven’t even opened their eyes yet, with reddish-brown transparent skin so you can see their body parts (internal). Their limbs are so feeble it’s all they can do to scoot around on their backs and wave their legs and twist their necks. But they are cute, I suppose, in that ugly duckling kind of way. At least, that’s what I thought. And the moment I saw them, with their petite yellow beaks and their black rimmed wings, a crazy, half-formed thought danced through my head: did Daisy find these when she was cracking eggs?
Look, I know it was stupid. And for a few reasons. One, why would Daisy be cracking eggs? We had tortellinis for lunch (this is a note I made afterwards). Two, If they were found in eggs, they’d be covered in sticky stuff. And they’d be dead. But still, don’t blame me. Blame my imagination.
“Woah, what are those?” Claire and I woahed.
After we called for Mom, Daisy explained she’d found the baby birds in our yard, soaked with water. Quickly she’d went inside, grabbed a box and a paper towel, and gently laid them inside. She had no idea what to do with them now.
We peered more closely into the box. One bird, a darker reddish color, was craning its neck and doing that thing birds do when they really want food. The other was paler and stirring feebly. They looked like they were going to die.
My mom launched a bird website, wondering if we could get worms from the bird store in time, and quickly dialed the number of my father, the bird expert, in the family. Daisy, Claire and I could only watch the birds, and wish and pray.
We could hear Mom in the other room: “Soak bread in cow milk? Okay… what about regular milk?” Quickly, we grabbed the milk and a piece of bread for her. She said, “Thanks,” and hung up.
The first piece of bread was a fail. The second, however, was okay. Using a chopstick and what looked like a plastic tuner, she attempted to put crumbs of saturated milk into the begging bird’s mouth. After a few tries, she did it. Yay! We fed the other bird as well, but their future was still unclear. But feeding them was fun.
Later, at lunch, my mom commented on and concocted a mixture consisting of egg yolk (as a solid), canned tuna, and a little bit of water which we used to feed the birds every quarter hour or so. But I don’t think they have a very fast digestive system (considerably fast by our standards, though), as right now both of their bellies are full and we’re expecting messes (yes, we can tell. Isn’t that gross?). But they both seem very healthy, and though the bird website says that 90-95% of birds taken in by humans die, I think these two might make it. Keep your fingers crossed.

Hey, guys,

just wondering,

How come for all my posts, either you don’t comment, or if you do, they all have two comments? Actually, for my last post, that was partly my fault. But I didn’t mean it that way! It’s so weird.

Now, you’re probably thinking (along with yours truly), what is the point of this entry? The point is, there is no point. It’s just used to extract random thoughts from my head. For example, right now Alex my pet parrot is going crazy. There’s no explanation. He’s just weird that way.

You’ve probably noticed that my blog looks a bit different- and if you haven’t you’ll have noticed now that I mentioned it. But it is! And it cost me… eighty-five bucks. Nah, just joking. It was free. It was an upgrade of my previous theme and it’s called Twenty Eleven. Please comment if you like it. Stand by for journal entry.

Random Moment In My Life

Ok, so, a few years ago, I was watching the second High School Musical movie with my family, and I had my favorite stuffed animal with me. So, we were watching it, and we were at the part where Gabriella is having a row with Troy. And she’s all like, “You don’t love me, boo hoo hoo,” and he’s like, “No, it’s not like that!”

So we’re watching them, and I look at my lap, and find my stuffed animal has torn. And since I was young, I started crying.

Now, if you were watching this movie, and you were watching this part, and you saw me crying, what would you think? Would you think of my stuffed animal? No, you’d think that the sad movie broke my heart! And so that’s what my mom thought.

“Don’t worry, honey, they’ll get back together,” she said soothingly.

“No, it’s not that, my stuffed animal ripped!” I sobbed.

I was reminded of this tragic moment when watching the Muppet Show a few nights ago. And by the way, it’s only considered a little kids show ’cause it has a bunch of puppets. Avery Schreiber was making a guest appearance and was having an insult fight with a monster. So he defeated the monster, but the monster made a last insult and “Sir Avery” fell. So Kermit, who was commenting, said, “Oh! Sir Avery has been hit! Sir Avery has been hit! I think this may be a draw!”

But “Sir Avery” said, “He didn’t get me with his insult! It was his breath!”

See the resemblance?

Maybe “Sir Avery” and I were just at the wrong place at the wrong time, or in the wrong situation at the wrong time, or something like that. Think about it. Oh yeah, Sir Avery’s victory can be viewed below at 4:44. You can watch the second part of the video for the gorilla machine, and watch Nice Guys. It rocks!

Zimmertwins Video

Hey peeps,

Puh-Jah here. I finished the video I was talking about in my daily entry, and, so… here it is!

Listen, I know it’s kinda lame, but still. It’s by me, and that automatically makes it awesome.

P.S. The colon thing was a mistake.

 

 

 

A snippet of my daily journal entry… Zimmertwins Mishaps

Hey. It’s me again.
Well, anyway, let’s get down to business. There’s this website called zimmertwins.com which I wanted to play on but forgot what it was called. I knew it had two twins, a boy and a girl, and a cat, but I couldn’t remember any of their names. Well today, I remembered! The cat’s name was 13. So I searched Google for: twin girl and boy and cat 13 animation, and I found it! Booyah!  So I tried to make a video, which I’d done, but then I realized I had to create an account, which I’d thought I’d done, but then I realized I hadn’t made an account at all! So then I had to remake the video, after logging in, of course, but didn’t type anything in for the speech bubbles. I figured I’d do that later. But then, when I went back to it to edit it, I found I couldn’t! It was so infuriating! So now I have to redo it for the third time in a row. That was sad. I’ll post it when it’s done. Until then, sayonara!

A snippet of my daily journal entry… Reincarnation

My friend Kristen gave a poll about animals. She asked, “Which animal do you like best?”, and gave a list of choices. Here are the results of the poll:
the winner of the “which is your fav animal?” is dog w/ 8 votes!! any aquatic animal & owl comes in second w/ 2 votes…& in third place is cat & any other animal!!! Congrats to all who voted for dog!!
I didn’t vote ’cause I wasn’t sure, but I think my favorite animal is a lynx. They may not be the prettiest animals around, but I still love them, though I’m not really sure why. I also like cats, ’cause I have two at home, Fluffy and Fuzzy. Fluffy, for your info, is that cat who is always begging to be pet, not that other cat Fuzzy who stares at birds all day, eats table scraps, and who I’ve never, ever heard purr.

Yeah, that's right. This soft lovable furrball is related to wild carnivores. Hard to believe for a cat that only eats cat food, butter and canned tuna.

Fluffy, The Lovable

Fuzzy, The Fierce

Click here for a picture of a lynx:

A snippet of my daily journal entry… Purrrrrrrfect

Speaking of Ana, I remember the time she was at our house for a playdate in New York. We didn’t have Fuzzy then. Her parents came into our house to pick her up. And, they just had to bring Moe.
Moe is her Labrador Retriever. He’s pretty old now, ’cause back then he was really big.
So, they brought Moe in, and I think he was barking, ’cause he smelled cat, of course. Then, I think Fluffy got scared and ran somewhere, and Moe saw her, and he’s like, “CAT!!!!!!!!!!” So he wrenches away from Ana’s parents, and tears after Fluffy, still wearing his leash. I’m sorry Fluffy, but I was half petrified and half rolling on the floor with laughter. The memory’s kinda fuzzy, but I can recall tiny Fluffy streaking under the black table, while big Moe crashes into it, while somehow managing to go under it at the same time. In the end, Fluffy scampered under my parent’s bed as Ana’s parents held Moe back. Just something fun to remember.