Squawk! Heaven knows how I pluck, pluck, pluck.

One twig is not enough, neither two, and at three I’m just getting started.

I place them so neatly in my nest, but a harsh gust of wind can tilt some awry, and then I have to readjust it, only to end up misaligning others instead. I never find perfection: they can always be stacked more precisely, I can always add just one more, and then I end up exhausted after spending hours barely getting half a nest finished - leaving me dissatisfied, driving me insane.

Only tiredness or distraction can bring me out of it, resetting me for the next day when I hope I don’t relapse.

I try my best to not bother with the twigs, telling myself moving just one is alright. But I always end up getting to two, and then it’s hard to stop. I tell myself I can’t just leave the issue alone until the day comes when the whole nest is about to fall apart…

I know I shouldn’t, I know what happens, but at the same time, it’s just one more twig…

And my wings - squaaa… my ruined wings. I noticed one of the barbules in a feather leaning in the opposite direction to the rest. I could feel the chilly wind through that gap when I flew, distracting me enough that I almost collided with a tree trunk. So I tried to bend it with my beak, to align the barbule with the rest, but I was too rough, and instead it broke off and the gap got bigger. And when I tried to bend the next nearby barbule to cover up the gap, it all got further misshapen and now I can’t straighten it out again! Nothing is in order anymore!

Squa-awk, I’m miserable - how does one fly when feeling so naked and uncomfortable? How can I ever live in such a mess of a home? Squaaa- No, I have to redo it all. Wrong, wrong, wrong.