This here is a cardboard box. But it's not just any cardboard box. It's a special cardboard box, the top of which is coveted real estate (by the bird). You see, if the bird perches on this box by the plastic gate, he sits in a prime spot where he can peer through the gate and into the glass door of the entertainment stand you see behind me. He sees a reflection of himself in that glass door, and he finds nothing better to do than gaze at his handsome self throughout the day.
This cardboard box also sits on top of another box. The other box is longer than this one. It is long enough that I can use the bottom box as a step to get up onto the special box and take a picture of myself like the one you see above.
Since I'm bigger than the bird, when I climb onto the special box, he moves out of the way. He stands in the background, pining for his spot, even planning a devious plan for how to get rid of me. His plan goes something like this: He hops back on the box, between the glass door and me. I giggle really loudly and hold my finger out to him (which is what he wants me to do, of course). He huffs and unfolds his wings to get as big as he can and entice me over to him. I giggle even louder and put my finger closer. Then he strikes!
Only, the bird knows better than to bite me hard. He knows the pecking order in this family, and, unfortunately for him, he comes last. He doesn't want to suffer the consequences if he does hurt me. So, when he does nip at me, I only giggle more, and keep poking my finger at him. And sometimes I poke my toes out. Mom used to be the one to taunt the bird. Now, it's my job. And I take it very seriously.
Too bad for the bird, I have claimed the top of the special cardboard box as mine. When I get bored up here, I'll share the space. But for now, he'll just have to keep looking on and sulking in the background.
(Post edit: Mom wasn't very happy with my ability to climb onto this box. Nor was she happy with the bird using it as a perch because he would more than occasionally chew at the cardboard while indulging in his narcissistic behavior. Mom pulled the special box forward so I can no longer use the other box as a step, then she put another box on top of the special box so the bird can no longer get access to the glass door. I guess, in the end, she was the one who ultimately won the turf war.)
