As many of you may know, Joanie Doss and flock recently left Alaska for the warmer climate of southern Oregon.

I have been called upon by ancient forces of nature to keep Joanie and The Boys in your thoughts by providing an alternative to Joanie's "Kodiak Moments" during her Internet absence.

Most of what I report comes to me in dreams and hallucinations, and so is as factual as anything found in the tabloid section of your favorite supermarket. Your mileage may vary. One size fits most.

Hitchhiking down the Alaska Highway seemed like a marvelous adventure back in March. At the moment, however, I have doubts.

While preparing breakfast for The Boys this morning, a cloud of mosquitos descended into the bowl of pasta and veggies I had just prepared. Kodiak immediately started asking "Is that good?" to which I could only reply by laughing and telling him to "Shut up!" as I crushed the life out of each miserable little insect.

We have a great system worked out for attracting rides. T.J. and Maggie stand by the side of the road and honk as if each passing car is the love of their life. When the drivers slow down to watch and listen to the strange-looking birds, the rest of us run out from the bushes and hop into the car.

Yesterday, just outside of Whitehorse, we got a ride with a long-haul trucker. All the boys except Kodiak climbed into the sleeper to catch a nap, watch TV, and chow-down on cold, buggy, pasta. Kodiak rode on the dashboard and kept himself amused by strutting back and forth while singing "Itsy Bitsy Spider." Suddenly, there was a loud clanking sound and the truck slowed to a halt, out in the middle of nowhere.

The driver said something about a "broken turbo-something." Kodiak listened, nodded his head as though understanding the problem, and then climbed into the engine compartment with a pair of leather strips, a popsicle stick, and a paper clip. Within half an hour, we were back on the road with Kodiak back on the dashboard screaming "Praise the Lord!"

I woke up early to the sound of ravens trying to say something like "Good bird! I'm a GOOD bird!" Each time they spoke, Kodiak giggled. At one point, he giggled so hard, he almost fell off the handlebars of the Harley, won by Pepper in a poker game two nights ago.

As Sydney and Maggie cooked breakfast, T.J. grumbled curses as he struggled to come to grips with his hangover. I busied myself by striking camp and preparing to resume our trip. As I was packing our gear, I discovered a brief leather garment which resembled nothing in my current wardrobe.

I held up the strange item and asked "BOYS -- WHAT IS THIS???"

Instantly, five pairs of Amazon eyes were staring intently at far away items in the sky, apparently too busy with the "unseen threat" to hear my query. Suddenly Kodiak cried out "Full Monty!" and all the boys were on the ground, rolling in bird laughter.

I pitched the garment into a nearby bush, realizing I would never hear a full explanation, much like a few nights before when the Crown-Zellerbach Toilet Paper Inspector chased us down the road screaming incoherent threats, much to Pepper's delight.

45 minutes later, we were back on the road, sitting astride the humming power of our Electra Glide Ultra Classic. With the white lines on the road melding into a continuous blur, and the wind whistling past our helmets (where The Boys found parrot helmets is beyond me, and I know it would be futile to ask) we headed south towards the border crossing near Abbotsford.

We made it to the border crossing in good time, stopping only once for lunch at McDonalds (Sidney, T.J., Kodiak, and Pepper shared a Quarter Pounder, while Maggie polished off a McRib sandwich by himself).

I don't think the guard at the crossing knew what to make of us; one little blonde woman with five Amazon parrots, riding an Electra Glide Ultra Classic loaded with camping gear. It didn't help matters when Maggie let loose with a titanic belch just as the guard walked up.

The guard's name tag read "Bob" -- don't they all? Bob asked me to unload the camping equipment; he wanted to see what was hidden in our various bags and rolls. I unfolded a small camp table and The Boys assumed it was Show Time. T.J. rolled a small ball across the table. Sidney grabbed a piece of trash and dropped it in a nearby waste container. Pepper jumped into an empty nylon bag and started singing opera. Maggie provided sound effects (mostly gastric noises).

It wasn't until a few moments later, after the guard had approved our departure and I had re-packed our gear, that I noticed that Kodiak had expertly removed the Bob's wallet from his pants pocket during the show. When I discovered what he had done, Kodiak asked "Is that good? Is that good?" as he picked through the credit cards, cash, and personal mementos. I told Kodiak that he had been very bad boy; he replied with a raspberry.

I gathered the wallet and contents and returned them to Bob. Instead of being happy to have his wallet back, he said something like "I knew it! GYPSIES!" and proceeded to harass me as I returned to our vehicle. Suddenly, Pepper interposed himself between myself and Bob. In full display, eyes flashing, he kept repeating "C'mon! C'mon!" in a very threatening manner.

Bob's borderline incontinence crossed the border.

In the ensuing embarrassment, we quickly hopped aboard our two-wheeled chariot of fire and sped off into U.S. territory. The last thing Bob heard from us was a long, Doppler-shifted raspberry from Kodiak.

Finally, back in the U.S.A. with roughly 600 more miles to go.

What could happen?

The drive south through Seattle/Tacoma, past Olympia, and on towards Portland was reasonably uneventful. The weather was warm, and the scenery, while not Alaskan in stature, was magnificent just the same. The Olympic Range and the Cascades made for a pretty ride.

As I neared Portland, I saw more and more signs advertising "Mega-Pet-A-Rama: The Biggest Pet Store on Earth!" Curiosity got the best of me, so I made a short detour to the east side of Vancouver, Washington, just across the Columbia River from Portland.

As I drove into the parking lot, I saw a building which could have housed a Costco, a Home Depot, a WalMart, and a small airstrip. Mega-Pet-A-Rama appeared to live up it's billing, at least as far as square footage was concerned. I wanted to go inside, but I didn't want to leave The Boys unattended, or in the care of a stranger. After a few moments of deep thought, I unpacked my long coat, perched the boys underneath on my chest and stomach, and proceeded to enter the store. I looked like a tiny, blonde, pregnant, Dolly Parton wannabe.

The place was beyond huge. There were racks upon racks of dog food, gerbil snacks, horse chow, monkey treats, elephant fodder, goose munchies, and a couple of bags of parrot food. The seed moth problem must have been pretty bad because they had small "bug zappers" all over the store. There was a constant "zzzzzzZZZAP!" among the normal retail background noise. Suddenly, a dragon fly (or small sparrow -- I'm not sure) found a zapper; the lights dimmed and an especially prolonged "zzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZAP!" grabbed my attention as the airborne victim became a glowing ember.

In response to the sound of the vaporized pest, from under my coat, Kodiak asked "What's the matter, Hugh?" to which I could only reply "SHHHHH!" Kodiak then replied "Praise the Lord!" which I repeated in a loud voice, to mask the presence of The Boys. People near me stared in consternation at the bumpy blonde woman who was having an intense conversation with her chest.

Pepper joined in the fun and began to sing opera. The Napes, overcome with excitement, started honking in procreative harmony. The more I tried to take responsibility for the noises, the more I looked possessed. Suddenly, Pepper lost his footing and tried to halt his downward slide by using his beak to bite into my shirt, and into ... an upper frontal area of my anatomy.

I discovered levitation.

I'm sure some of the bystanders will remember the resultant spectacle as if it were a cute magicians trick from a party. Others will remember it, after many counseling sessions, as a live enactment of the "chest-burster" scene from "Aliens."

Imagine the action, in slow motion: in response to Pepper's beak-anchor, I rose into the air. My blonde hair formed a glowing nimbus in the light of the bug zappers. A scream, ranging from subsonic through hypersonic frequencies, erupted from my voice box. The Boys burst out from under my coat in a green, screaming, flapping explosion. Avian bowel control was non-existent.

As we all settled back to Earth, at 32 feet-per-second squared, our audience alternately clapped in glee, or ran screaming in mindless terror. I quickly gathered The Boys and ran from the store, with Kodiak screaming "Wheeeeee!" all the way.

300 miles to go. At 100+ MPH, it shouldn't take too much longer.

As I ran from the Mega-Pet-A-Rama with an armful of screaming Amazons, I realized that some people were probably under the impression that I had just stolen the birds. I quickly strapped The Boys into their helmets and safety seats, donned my Walkman and helmet, and then headed for the I-205 freeway.

I was happy to have left the chaotic pet store fiasco behind. So happy, in fact, that I didn't notice the special attention I was given by a member of the Washington State Patrol. Perhaps he had already heard of the Mega-Pet-A-Mess. Perhaps he was concerned about my speed, in excess of 80 MPH at the time. Perhaps Kodiak had given him the bird. In any case, I was blissfully unaware of the problem as I sped south towards Portland, Steppenwolf's "Born To Be Wild" blaring in my ears.

As I approached the I-205 bridge, I consciously realized I had been subliminally aware that vehicles had been pulling over and making way for me for the past few miles. I looked into the rearview mirror and saw three patrol cars, lights and sirens making their presence known to all but me. I turned off the Walkman, and caught the unmistakable sound of John Law in hot pursuit. Much to my consternation, Kodiak was still screaming "Wheeeeee!" and Pepper was doing his own rendition of a warbling siren.

I wound the Electra Glide Ultra Classic out to the max as I crossed the Columbia river. The Washington State Patrol fell back as I crossed the Oregon border. Ahead of me, I could see the lights of the Oregon State Police vehicles, ready to join the chase. For safety reasons, and because someone told the troopers I was carrying exotic parrots as passengers, they did not blockade the freeway. Instead, they had orders to pursue until I exhausted my fuel supply.

I've watched "COPS" -- I knew that if they caught me, they would not be gentle.

I zipped southward through Portland, past Oregon City, and on to where I-205 joins I-5. Like dogs after a fox, a dozen police vehicles had joined the chase, blocking the road behind me, and sending messages for other officers to clear the road ahead.

In the air, police and news helicopters participated in the high-speed parade. The Boys kept watchful eyes on them and, occasionally, I could hear Kodiak scream "INCOMING!" to which the others would respond with gunfire and explosive sound effects.

I switched my Walkman to "AM" and found a station covering my activities...

"This is Blaart Farney in NewsChopper 5, watching the most bizarre chase I've ever seen! In speeds in excess of 90 MPH, State Troopers are pursuing a little, blonde, biker-babe who may have stolen twenty or more rare, exotic birds from Mega-Pet-A-Rama. She and her avian hostages are heading south towards Woodburn on a motorcycle loaded with camping equipment. Police say this may be the same person wanted by Canadian officials for attempted theft at the border crossing near Abbotsford, and we have an unconfirmed report that Crown-Zellerbach security personnel are also looking for this woman! Some of these reports are confusing because they indicate the presence of parrots with this woman BEFORE today's Mega-Pet-A-Rama incident. Whoa! Hold on! This is AMAZING! They are throwing things on the road into the path of the pursing police units!"

Pepper had managed to release his harness and had chewed through some of the straps holding our camping gear. First, a sleeping bag hit the road, then the camp table. Pursuing cars careened and swerved to avoid the obstacles. Before I could stop him, Pepper had attacked the police with half our gear.

I didn't know it at the time, but members of various local parrot and motorcycle clubs had been alerted to my predicament. They scrambled into action with information different than what the police and news crews had. As I passed the Woodburn interchange, nearly three dozen motorcycles joined me on the freeway. They were of similar design to my own and all were carrying miscellaneous strapped-on baggage. A few even had parrots, wearing helmets and strapped into safety seats. One cockatoo was able to pierce the cacophony of sirens and road noise with a hearty scream, to which Kodiak replied "Good! GOOD!"

At the next exit, I was motioned off the freeway by one of my new traveling companions. Half the bikes continued southbound on the freeway, while the other half scattered onto the rural roads of the Willamette Valley. Bikers in my group kept peeling off onto side roads, taking away a few more pursuing police cars each time. Finally, miraculously, I was alone on the road.

Suddenly, a huge flat-black 4x4 with heavily-tinted windows pulled out from a side road and blocked my path. Pepper screamed "Bad! BAD BIRD!" as I brought the bike to a stop. The chase was over; I was going to have to face the music. The driver of the truck motioned me towards a heavily-shaded, grass-choked driveway. I pulled off the road into the tall grass, under the protective shade of a stand of Douglas fir trees. I parked the bike and stopped the engine. Ahead of me, a flat-black Huey helicopter stood motionless in front of an ancient, half-fallen barn. In the sudden silence, I could hear the approaching scream of sirens and the whap-whap-whap of yet another chopper.

Much to my amazement, the cars and aircraft passed my position completely, chasing my helpful phantom riders!

Before I could completely comprehend my situation, a figure inside the shadowy open doorway on the side of the chopper motioned me closer. As I approached, I was initially surprised by the Alaska Bird Nooz logo on the side of the craft. My surprise changed to utter amazement when I looked inside and was greeted by Bird Nooz staff members Banerry Corknut, Randy Conure, Aunty Matter, and Nancy Duck, in full combat gear! The mysterious black truck pulled up to the chopper and disgorged Garry Wallan, dressed in a black tuxedo.

Within minutes, the bike and our gear were loaded into the truck and The Boys and I were safely strapped into the chopper. As the engine wound up to speed, Pepper addressed the pilot with "Hi! How are you?" while T.J., Sidney, and Maggie honked "The Yellow Rose of Texas" in three part harmony.

As we lifted off for the final leg of our journey to our new home, Kodiak screamed "Praise the Lord!"

Praise the Lord, indeed.

Two weeks have passed since our evacuation on the Alaska Bird Nooz helicopter. After an uneventful flight, we finally arrived in Medford. The Boys and I joined my husband at the rental house which will serve as our temporary base of operations until the Big House is finished, sometime in the next six months.

Soon, huge Ponderosa pine logs will be assembled to form the main portion of the Big House. After that, the gun turrets and sensor arrays will be installed, followed by construction of the state-of-the-art Avian Recreational Sensory Environment (ARSE), designed by Kodiak.

I've taken some time to decompress and reflect on some of the more subtle, magical moments of our journey which had been overshadowed by episodes of exciting, gut-churning, turmoil.

On Day Four, at a Mom-and-Pop variety store in Whitehorse, I discovered a rare, limited edition set of Beanie Babies, and thus became the proud mama to "The Roadkill Collection:" Sammy Sailcat; Frisbee Possum; Gutsy Squirrel; Matty Splatty Roadpatty; Mooshi the Unknown; and a special friend named Chilito Grande who comes with his own seasoning package -- after being simmered for two hours, he becomes a "Chili Baby!"

On the evening of Day Five, The Boys jammed with a Canadian band called SnotHammer. The addition of Yellow Nape Honking and various jungle calls added a special dimension to the techno-metal-ska-punk-slacker-blues performance. However, I wish Sidney would stop repeating "Up Yours!" and "Bite Me!" which were the primary lyrics to SnotHammer's closing song "Tender Moment of Burning Needle Pain."

The SnotHammer experience had one dark moment though, when I discovered that The Boys had been introduced to body piercing by SnotHammers's lead singer, Oxi Moronn, at a post-performance party. I was able to remove all the decorations (T.J.'s tongue stud was a real challenge) and disinfect the wounds. I accomplished this task while receiving a running stream of verbal abuse from both Pepper and Kodiak.

Though I may miss the past adventures, our current life is certainly exciting enough. Yesterday, I was contacted regarding a co-starring role for Pepper in "Paulie II: The Reckoning." I carefully explained the details to Pepper (he would play a former Navy Seal who does mercenary work when not teaching sign language at a local import/quarantine facility). As he considered the deal, Sidney was heard to say "I don't think so!" followed by a two-tone raspberry from Kodiak. Pepper respectfully declined because he didn't want to share top billing with a conure (I think he is holding out for a spot on Star Trek: Voyager).

Today I was contacted by another show-biz promoter. However, after I discussed the new offer with The Boys, I received five enthusiastic versions of "Good! GOOOOOD!" so next week, we start a two-month run in an all-avian Elvis revue in Las Vegas. Maggie has already mastered the phrase "Hunka Hunka Burnin' Love" but Kodiak has been having problems with "You ain't nuthin' but a Good Bird!"

The Electra Glide is ready to go, new camping gear has been obtained, and we hit the road tomorrow. I suspect that Pepper's acumen with cards could make this an especially profitable venture! Now that the wild rides of the past few weeks are behind us, I have a feeling that this will be an uneventful trip.

After all, what could happen?

On a cool, Canadian evening, while working under his cover persona as Oxi Moronn, lead singer of the techno-metal-ska-punk-slacker-blues band called SnotHammer, Tycho Viagra was provided a remarkable boon when a small blonde woman and five excited Amazon parrots entered a bar where SnotHammer was performing. The Universe, in a perverse fit of chaotic serendipity, had handed Tycho the missing piece of a complex puzzle.

Orphaned son of brilliant scientist-parents killed in a bizarre lab accident, Tycho had grown up steeped in bitterness, the byproduct of ennui, teenage angst, abandonment issues, and many other 90's pop culture words. He hated his late parents for naming him after the famous Danish astronomer, guaranteeing verbal and physical abuse in his formative years. Even more, he hated the Evil Pharmaceutical Empire for stealing his surname to identify a popular new medication for the treatment of impotence.

While other Twenty-Something's dreamt of careers, romance, hanging out at the mall, or scoring a bag of Matanuska Thunderweed, Tycho's dreams surged through a river of blood, carrying a long list of enemies along for the ride. The time for payback had arrived and Tycho Viagra was packing a full load of Whupass, Extra Crispy.

The key to his plan was the creation of an army of intelligent, controllable animals to conquer the Earth and exact a fitting revenge. This was a daunting task and early experiments had been miserable, sometimes disgusting, failures. The latest research dead-end involved splicing genes from various animals to produce ferocious, obedient soldiers. The Doberman Conure, the Piranha Grey, the grotesque BudgieToo –- all had proven to be genetically unstable and uncontrollable. Evidence of each specimen had been turned to mulch by Tycho's Green Peas Euthanator. His vegetable garden benefitted and the Earth earned a temporary reprieve.

Two days prior to the SnotHammer performance, Tycho obtained the mysterious Antarctic meteorite fragment which had been implicated in the violent accident which had sent his parents to the Great Beyond. It's pulsating, radioactive power was contained in a lead-lined vault at Tycho's secret research facility.

The unexpected arrival of the five parrots caused the tumblers of destiny to fall into place; Tycho was delighted in a way only a madman would understand. The birds were startlingly intelligent, talkative, and could generally carry a tune, though one of them needed to be in a paper sack to do so. They were truly amazing Amazon specimens. Tycho obtained DNA samples from each bird during a body piercing introduction at the post-performance party.

Scattered pieces of the puzzle had been assembled: the meteorite fragment, the DNA samples, the cloning equipment "borrowed" from Blue Gene's Labs. Tycho would soon have the world at his mercy, held prisoner in the malevolent beaks of his legion of obedient, intelligent, autonomous, mutant-parrot drones with Super Powers.

The squealing clockwork of madness had started its inevitable movement; a countdown to EVIL...

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