... I can imagine.

[She pauses the conversation, and motions to the more cumbersome task—the post that needs to be dug into the ground.]

There is a shovel over there. Grab that and start piling the dirt back in around this.

[And with that, she sends her wings away again in a blink, feathers fluttering about and making her chocobo kweh and chase after them.]

I have heard many a bird complain to me about their molting. I don't believe there is much that I could have done for them, however.