This cockatoo has been visiting us every day for over a week now. If he lands on the balcony and there's no food, he lets out a couple of loud squarks. Then we come running, in my case bearing huge great handfuls of trail mix, though Darren's not too pleased I'm picking out all the best bits for the local birds.
And for the record, this fella (who Darren wants to call Lemon and I want to call Qantas) loves almonds and peanuts but won't be seen dead with a cashew. Dead as in expired, ceased to be, polly-gone.
Arf Arf.
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