If I text you back fast its not because Im thirsty its because my phone was in my hand at the time. The waiting to text people back on purpose shit is childish
HEY remember in WWII when Jewish people were fleeing Germany and the USA put a quota on how many Jewish immigrants they would accept because they were worried there were too many Jewish people coming over to the USA???
Reminder that the USA has always been fucking garbage to immigrants and basic humanity
Baby bird season is incoming and I’d like to remind everyone that birds do not have a significant sense of smell. Bird parents will not reject birdlets because you have handled them.
If you see smol birbs with few or no feathers on the ground, you can safely put them back into their nest, bird parents will still care for them.
If you see smol birbs with some or most feathers on the ground, please leave them there, as bird parents are probably nearby watching and feeding.
nakey bird = accidentally fell out, is cold and scared, put back in nest! if you can’t reach the nest, try to put it on a wide branch or fork so predators can’t get at it as easily.
scruffy feather bird = starting to try the fly thing, not very good at it. only put in nest/branch if predators abound, i.e. you have four outdoor cats and they’re licking their chops.
fluffy feather bird = smol fly guy! do nothing. can probably get away from predators and will flip its shit if you pick it up.
Reblogging this because I’d always heard the ‘Don’t touch a distressed bird its mom will reject it’ thing treated as fact before now, I didn’t realise it wasn’t true…
It’s confirmed that the oil from human hands will make bird feathers fall off so please if you have to touch the bird be careful and put it to its home
I have no idea where you heard this myth, but it is not true at all… There is no component in a human’s skin oil that will cause feathers to fall off of a bird at any life stage. The oil may stay on the feather until the bird cleans it off, but feathers are actually attached under their skin very strongly and are not going to suffer harm from being touched. I say this as someone who has raised hundreds of fowl and several baby wild birds over the last two decades.
Baby birds are always anxious and will try to squirm out of your hands. MOVE QUICKLY WITH THEM.
People think that birds have disease, so they make up this bullshit to tell their children.
my perfect crime? I memorize the entirety of the macy’s store inventory. I then go on aliexpress.com and find exact replicas of every single purse in the store. I break in at 3am, and replace every purse with a cheaper version of the purse. I take my real purses home and open up an online store on the darknet featuring fake purses. I then sell these real purses as fake purses, making it so that when the feds catch on to my antics, they spend countless years trying to figure out who can replicate purses this well, and who is selling them. Soon an entire division of the FBI is dedicated to finding me and figuring out how my “fake” purses appear to be real. 45 years later they finally trace my ip address and break into my villa in texas and shoot me right in the leg when i attempt to flee. While this would normally not be a fatal wound, due to my constant devotion to my online fake real purse storefront i have suffered an iron deficiency for 35 years. My blood can’t clot and I start to bleed out. Turns out the woman who shot me was a girl who i made out with once in college, and she holds my dying body in her arms and asks me how my fake purses were so real. I spend the last moments of my fleeting life telling her about how every five years i break into a different Macy’s and replace all the purses, and that the purses I have been selling online for a severely discounted price were actually all real, and I have been doing this purely for the gag of it all. When my former college girlfriend gets home from work after rightfully murdering me for my crimes, she goes into her walk in closet, looks at the 13 gucci purses she owns, and realizes that they’re all fakes.
