Queer Eye for Birds

We all have bad hair days. I'm having one right now. After what seemed like the perfect haircut only a week ago, I suddenly have this WAVE that comes up out of my forehead, stands erect, then crashes and foams high over my right ear. So I could empathize with this cedar waxwing, who was apparently having a bad crest day.
There was some kind of goozum above his left eye, sticking the feathers together. An occupational hazard of fruit-eating. He didn't contemplate long in the birch by the Bird Spa. He took action.
Much as I love to watch birds bathe, there is always some part of me (probably the photographer) that says, "Don't go in the water!" I hate to see those porcelain-finished feathers get wet and rumpled. Like me, this goldfinch couldn't tear his eyes away from the spectacle.

Dude, you are ruining your 'do.
The marvel to me is how, having been so mussed up, these birds manage to get their crests just perfect again, like the Werewolf of London. Barbules and barbicels all interlocking, the finish smoother than before, and all that without product. I have probably five different kinds, no, wait (Philip Pelusi's Hair Honey, Origins Hair Dresser and University of Mane, Biolage's gel, Bioterra's phytogel, some kind of gawd-awful crystal hair set gel that makes it feel like dead straw, Bedhead by Tigi's fruity slimy green gloop, some kind of hair wax whose name I forget...even Dep...make that nine and counting) and I still can't get it to look the way I want. Pffft. Maybe I should take a hint from the waxwings and go give myself a swirlie in the Bird Spa.