I feel that when I casually mention in a post that a certain member of my flock has passed away, it’s not the best way to share the sorrow and loss that we feel, so I am going to post perhaps once a quarter a special blog about the wonderful birds I have known and lost. And when no birds cross the Rainbow Bridge between these blogs, I will reflect on those who went before I had this idea.
Ruff
Some time ago, the local Humane Society asked be to take in five white ringneck doves. I found homes for three of them and kept two; one of the two had a totally bare neck due to a lice problem that they had treated before releasing the bird for adoption. I thought it looked like a male and named it Ruff. Ruff always showed up for food out of the scoop and showed a lot of enthusiasm for pushing others out of the way. I had him paired with a female dove who laid lots of unfertilized eggs, and she continued to do so with him, until she died of an infection. I then put him back in general population where he happily continued to eat and interact with the other birds until, quite unexpectedly, he began hanging out under the feeding area and showing no inclination to fly. I took him inside when he showed signs of distress, but it was too late, and he passed away overnight.
For all that he wasn’t a standout bird, he was recognizable and always around. I do miss his presence and his funny calls.
Tuck
This lutino cockatiel was our most senior bird after Kai passed away, and over the last year, Tuck lost the ability to hold his head up straight. It didn’t stop him, he consumed seed and drank water and rarely left the bottom of the cage. He put up with new birds reluctantly but with little fussing. Once in a while, I would find Tuck on his back on the cage floor, unable to right himself; he accepted my help to get upright with only a little nip. Tuck liked to perch on the side of the open water dish in the cage, and I had to move him whenever I needed to clean and refill the bowl.
As bad luck would have it, we found Tuck passed away in the water bowl. Did he have a seizure and fall in? Did he fall on his back and couldn’t get up or out? I will never know and will always hope he didn’t drown: the poor little guy deserved a better end than that.
Wiggles
About a year ago, I was cleaning out a nest of button quail eggs that hadn’t hatched and, to my surprise, one egg was opening at one end, so I helped ease the chick out and held her in my hand while she warmed up. I named her Wiggles and put her in a brooder by herself. She was so cute but in spite of my help, she became scared of people. Shortly after that, another hen hatched out some chicks and I put them in the brooder with Wiggles, who was twice their size and became a substitute mom to that clutch. Eventually they were all old enough to go outside.
I don’t always find birds that have passed away until I follow a trail of ants: somehow, Wiggles had gotten herself wedged behind a nest box. However long she was there, without food or water in the middle of summer, she didn’t survive. That was a very hard death to accept, but I see her now in a field beyond the Rainbow Bridge, chasing flying insects, playing with other button quail, and finally as happy as she should be.
Thank you for reading; I’ll be back next Sunday.
In Loco Parrotus 