We Lost Another Feathered Friend
Dying is hard, sad, and difficult to watch
We had three difficult days in the bird room watching Blue succumb to death. It was not sudden nor totally unexpected as he had been exhibiting signs of increasing frailty for months. His balance was questionable; he often tumbled from perches. He no longer could maintain uplift with his wings and often helplessly glided to the floor instead of reaching his intended target.
Two days before he collapsed on the floor, he stopped eating, a sign of his coming death. When he collapsed, I gathered him up, stroking his head and intoning over and over how much we loved him. I placed him in one of the smaller empty cages, padding the cage floor with layers of newspaper to cushion his body when he fell from the perch, which he would do, and shut him inside. The cage had water and food but I did not expect him to care about either.
We started our vigil, Ziggy and I, both of us talking to him. Ziggy suffered along with Blue. The two of them had a bromance for some ten years, napping together, their bodies pressed against each other, and hanging out on the same perch. Yes, they quarreled, screamed at each other, and when Blue attacked Max, Ziggy’s beloved, he was dispatched to the floor by an infuriated Amazon.
