"She was not what you would call refined. She was not what you would call unrefined. She was the type of person who kept a parrot. -- Mark Twain"
We went to St. Clements today - I am now the proud owner of a baby crimson-bellied conure (temporarily called Potential Parrot until we think of a name for him/her). Voila:
The breeder I had wanted, it seems her pair won't get it on this year, and this little guy was the sole survivor of 2 clutches the bird store had - apparently new conure parents aren't good at feeding their babies. He was a little dozy, and after about 15 minutes of being held, seemed to have acute over-stimulation and was desperate to go back to bed. But that seems to be pretty normal for a 4-week old bird. We won't know if it's M or F for a few weeks (but I'm hoping M - then no possibilities of egg-binding complications and other nesting issues.)
Possible names include Chucknorris, Jango and Mister Rogers (check the adult pics and you'll see why - anyway, then you could teach it to say "Welease Wogeah!" every time you let it out of the cage). Nothing feels right though...
Readin' "Equal Rites" (Pratchett)
Listenin' to nothing
Thinkin' about Potential Parrot, obviously
Most recently I was 
