He tried just pouring it into my mouth. What a mess it made! It ran over my beak, down
my breast and got my feathers sticky. When I cleaned up by emptying my water bowl on them,
he complained I got everything soaked. When he resisted my attempts to gently guide the
spoon with my beak, the spoon ended up bent in half. Guess I dont know my own
strength. Eventually, he caught on that I could hold the spoon in my beak and then tip my
head back to control the flow. Mmmmm. Nice warm chicken broth. Honest dad, I didnt
bite down on the spoon - cant imagine how that dimple got into it even if it does
conform to the point of my beak.
Now that I finally taught dad how to feed me soup, I enjoy it often.