My sweet angelic little Citron hen. Haven't you heard? Looks can be deceiving.
Lately, she has been quite determined to break the sound barrier. And let me say she is quite close to achieving that goal. I admire her ambition, detest her determination. And it is not just a blast of ear-drum piercing shriek. She carries on long, obnoxious monologues where no interruption can faze her. All at the same decibel level, without any pause for breath or thought.
If we didn't have skulls, the sound waves would have caused a massive cerebral explosion. It is so loud, I can only describe it as blinding. And just how far does it travel? I have heard her yodeling away while walking Janka in the park. The park! It is down the path from our apartment, and across the road. Above the traffic din, serenading birds, human chatter and the bubbling pond, there it is ... the pervasive melody of an irate, nagging parrot scolding nobody in particular.
In suicidal hopelessness, Bryan asked what was the best course of action. My succinct reply? "Ear plugs, buddy." A set of earplugs for us, as well as the neighbours.