Living with Parrots Means You are Their Tree
I like to think of myself as the Landing Zone for all our aircraft. I will also admit I may resemble some sort of tree. In either case, I need to stand still.
Butters' lands on my head or shoulder like an albatross without a headwind. Big, bold and startling. There's no reason to be startled of course, she announces her intentions with a mighty flock call of ignition. I know she's coming, and I know when she's landed. Her arrival feels like being shoved in the hallway back in grade school. Followed by a wet willie in my ear. Because she's gotta let me know she's staying for a while.
Snickers' landing is far more subtle. You could say finessed with care. He only lands on my head and then spelunks down to my shoulder. Snickers lands lightly like a helicopter. After the landing he continues to spin in a circle for a bit before going over the edge via my ear. His foot grip is so loose and light I have no idea how he doesn't overshoot the landing and just slide off and crash to the floor in a puddle of determined feathers.
Kirby is the jet fighter. Light, nimble, and stealthy as a small blue ninja. I don't hear him coming, and I barely feel him land on my shoulder. It's almost as if he teleports. It's not so much a landing as it is a ShaZAM! He really needs a puff of smoke to finish the affect.
Felix doesn't fly; therefore, he doesn't land. The LZ tree comes to him. Which is me.