Dear somebody: your escaped pet (I can only assume that’s what it is) is doing fine, shooting the breezes, and has fallen in with a flock that thinks he’s a goldfinch on steroids. He let me open the door finally to try to get a better shot but that was it.  I was quite amused when he bossed the squirrel a bit.
All is well. Happy Mother’s Day!
(Ed. to add: the parakeet’s been back twice now. I’m hoping it makes it a habit.)
