It is so unfair that something as sweet-smelling and mostly cuddly as he is should be fronted with a beak, and that the more tired and cuddle-worthy he looks, the more likely he is to want not to be disturbed. That little beak, part way open in a threat, when all you want to do is scoop him to apologize for your imminent departure for the millet factory, even though he's so adorable you'd rather leave him on your lap and write a pointless paragraph in your online journal rather than disturb him by actually getting up and going to the millet factory...
He's fluffed out to about the size of a partridge, and he has no neck.
In other cute news, this morning two squirrels chased each other up and down the nectarine tree and leapt from it to my neighbor's roof and scurried across to jump into his tree and the second paused at the roof's edge, switching its tail with irritation while waiting for the branch to bounce predictably enough that it could gauge its leap. Evil little things.
Christ, that last paragraph, which I typed so I could watch Blake some more, only gave him time to tuck. Now I'll never get up.