Having just gotten off the phone with my cousin and getting sick of telling the story, here's one for the ages. No, it's not about Shezad & Maria's wedding, though that was the reason for the trip down south.
It's about a bird.
Whilst taking pictures in the backyard at my cousin's house in St. Pete, I heard the sound of what I presumed to be an eagle or falcon or vulture or some other wicked nasty raptor.
It was a macaw named Pete. Boy, was he pissed!
She and I checked him out as he continued to shriek like a banshee. We left for breakfast at my favorite family restaurant, which coincidentally, is the only family restaurant left in my family. I guess the bar wasn't technically a restaurant, though the food made national headlines once. Too many hot peppers on a sausage sandwich for a local cop, and a waitress got arrested. But I digress...
Upon returning from breakfast, Pete was still pretty upset. He'd gotten lower in the branches, and we were still curious about his mood. Come to find out he was awfully territorial, and we were in his bubble.
Neighbor happens by, gives us a little background, and goes to get some kumquats for Pete to munch on. Meanwhile, he's getting lower and lower in the tree. Helpful Eagle Scout that I am, I decide to help Pete reach his perch by offering an olive branch (so to speak) for him to get out of the tree.
Bad idea. The second his weight was on the branch, he latched onto my index finger quicker than go. I somehow managed to get the bolt cutter strong beak off before he did any major damage. Though I sit here typing one hospital visit later, and I can only now actually type somewhat competently. Three days later.
That old saying, "Don't poke the bear," should be amended to, "or the short-tempered macaw." Both may surprise you with their ferocity and quickness. Guess I ain't climbing this week!