So D'artagnan has a frozen head. He had a Mohawk of crunchy frozen feathers. I ran after him and caught him so he could go inside for a warm bath and to hang out till dry. I caught the little jerk, had him secured under my arm....I thought. One wing broke free and started beating me. In the face. I now have a bloodshot eye ball and a nice black eye. Oh, and a torn contact. Good thing I wear disposable ones. And that's how my Christmas has started. How about you?