Birthday Bubbles!

It was a cold winters day in June 2006. I was finally ready to put the past behind me and try again.

Rewind 8 years... September 1998

Peanut died very suddenly in the middle of the night. He was an eight week old African grey and my first feathered baby given to me as a birthday gift. I didn’t know that he had the flu when we brought him home from the pet store. I loved that bird with all my heart! I only had him to love for thirty days. I didn’t know that a vet could save him. I thought that if something went wrong with a parrot it was tickets. The flu turned into meningitis and by the time I realized it he was gone. I grieved for a long time. How could I not know? What might I have done differently?

April 2000...

Then there was Cheeky, the cutest white cockatiel. He had the sweetest two orange cheeks and an attitude to boot, but I didn’t raise him. I was strolling by the lake one afternoon; turns out so was he. I don’t know where he came from, how old he was or who he belonged to, but someone’s sad loss became my best friend for nearly four years. I don’t know how he died exactly. Maybe simply old age...

June 2006...

So there I was staring at the tiny little bundles of fluff through the window. They were only six weeks old, a brood of Senegal parrots. They were huddled together in one corner trying to stay warm. The little one furthest on the edge of the huddle wanted to get a little closer but all he got was a cold shoulder – literally. Very determinedly he backed up a couple of inches and with all his might nose dived toward the huddle. He was getting in (or under) no matter what; He wasn’t taking no for an answer!

Next thing there he was, snug right at the bottom of the (now) pile. Right then I knew he was the one for me!

But could I do it? He was so tiny, so vulnerable, so dependant. What if I did something to cause him to die like Peanut did? I would have to keep him at a constant 22*C in the middle of winter (he didn’t have any feathers, just fluff) and feed him three times a day (day job and all) – with a syringe and a thin rubber tube into his tiny crop. What if I hurt him? What if he didn’t want to eat? What if he got sick? He was so small. I paced up and down the aisles of the pet store for nearly an hour before I finally made my decision: I would risk taking him home with me.

And so, with one fluffy baby parrot, a wooden breeder box, wood shavings, baby food and syringe under one arm, and all the courage I could muster under the other our journey began... five years ago. Oh, and don’t forget the cuddly lion bear!

I celebrate that day as his birthday since I don’t know the date for sure when he actually hatched. So happy birthday, baby! Mommy loves you to bits!!