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Training Dad to Feed Me Soup by Prism Schwartz
prism2.jpg (25449 bytes) One of my favorite foods is chicken noodle soup. For the longest time dad only gave me the thick part in a bowl because he didn’t know how to feed me the broth. He knew I liked broth because I licked it from his spoon. My tongue went a mile a minute.

He tried just pouring it into my mouth. What a mess it made! It ran over my beak, down my breast and got my feathers sticky. When I cleaned up by emptying my water bowl on them, he complained I got everything soaked. When he resisted my attempts to gently guide the spoon with my beak, the spoon ended up bent in half. Guess I don’t know my own strength. Eventually, he caught on that I could hold the spoon in my beak and then tip my head back to control the flow. Mmmmm. Nice warm chicken broth. Honest dad, I didn’t bite down on the spoon - can’t imagine how that dimple got into it even if it does conform to the point of my beak.

Now that I finally taught dad how to feed me soup, I enjoy it often.

Copyright: Birds of A Feather Avicultural Society and Author Feb 1999

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