Our much loved little Beak

[Northern Budgie]

I had a little bird come into my home two and a half years ago, from my beau, who was moving to Vancouver and was worried about taking him on the trip with him. This was Sticky Feet, a 5 year old budgie that Keith had had since he was a baby; his mom bred them, and he was one of a little batch that had been hand fed and tamed.

I didn't know anything about birds, let alone exotics, and had always been a cat and dog girl. For the first week, this bird and I eyed each other, not quite knowing what to make of our new situation. He was used to flying around, so when I was home, I would leave his cage open and he would flap around doing his own thing.

After a while, he would come over to me and sit with me, playing and talking and yelling if I didn't talk back. That was another thing I didn't know about budgies; their talent for mimicry with words and voices. I started to talk to him, and to my amazement, he began picking up on words and phrases I used, and in my voice. When he imitated Keith, it was in a much lower tone. I started to leave him out during the day when I would go to work, closing the bathroom door and 'budgie-proofing' the apartment. He was absolutely fine, and I always knew where he'd been during the day by the neat little poops he'd leave behind.

This little guy became my constant companion, taking baths and showers with me, which was amazing, because he had dived into a sink full of suds when he was a baby and didn't like water. The first time he took a bath, he was perched on the edge of a glass full of orange juice, and he was dipping into it; I thought he was just drinking, but he was all fluffed up and chirping. I was washing my face, and when I opened my eyes, he was breast first into the orange juice with his wings on the side of the glass, and truly lived up to his name of 'Sticky Bird'. Well, I switched the orange juice for water, and that was his bath time; he would only do it when he was perched on a glass, nothing else would do.

A little over a year ago, I moved, and with Keith still working out of town. I moved into a larger place, an old apartment building with steam heating that clanks, and a lot more street noise. We had a difficult time getting used to it, but after Christmas, both Sticky Feet and I had settled in. He loved the kitchen, the bathroom, the backs of the dining room chairs where I would drape newspapers and he would chew on them all day. His vocabulary continued to expand, constantly astounding me; I came home from work one day and he was in the kitchen on top of the glass candle holders that he would move around, chewing on the paper towel rolls and all of the cookbook covers - he really had good taste (!) - and I went up to him and said, nose to beak, "Oh, Beak, I've had such a crappy day...", and he cocked his head and looked up at me, and said, "It's okay...want some juice?", well I just died. That little bird had become such a huge part of my life, and he delighted and moved me with his companionship and character.

Keith is now in Yellowknife, and in June I went to visit him for about 2 weeks, and had made arrangements with my neighbour to look after him. I took him to the vet before I went, because I noticed something about his little potbelly. Well, the vet confirmed that he had a mass in his abdomen, and that it was really difficult to tell what kind of tumour it was. She wouldn't do anything further unless I was prepared to have him die on the table. Well, I wasn't prepared for that, so I went to Yellowknife with a heavy heart, and told Keith, who was very upset. I did a lot of reading and research on operations on these little guys, as well as chatted with other bird owners on line, and the jury was out that he would make it out of the operation alive. I decided to try him on this diet that I had found during my research; lots of anti-cancer herbs, fresh greens, and particular seeds that was supposed to help deflect and shrink tumours.

I wasn't able to start him on the diet until 5 weeks after he was diagnosed, I had a back problem and was laid up, and this little guy hardly left my side. I was on some heavy drugs for a bit, so doing lots of sleeping. He hardly ever came into my bedroom, but when he would do his whistle yell, knowing I was home but he didn't know where I was, I would answer and he would come winging into the bedroom, land on my head and hop on the pillow. He would stay there with me and guard me until I got up.

He liked the new diet and was excited every morning when I would prepare it. Up until the third week of August, he was still flapping around, landing on all of his regular haunts. The tumour was growing this whole time, but I didn't want to take him to the vet, as she had said that she didn't have a lot of experience with birds this size, and with tumours this size, but she was the only avian vet in town. I was watching him very closely to see if he was in any pain, at which time I would take him in. He was still in good spirits, chatting, and chirping, but then the weight of the tumour got to be too much for him so he wasn't flying as much. I would take him out of his cage and let him roam all over me when I would lie down. It broke my heart to see him unable to fly.

The last week of August, I had resolved to take him in the following week, because it was just getting to be too much for him. He was still eating and perching, and moving around his cage, but I think it was only his heroic heart that kept him going. On Saturday, September 2nd, I woke him up in the morning, and I knew that it was his last day. He was listless, and wouldn't even have cheese, which was his favourite food. He did have some coffee, which I had always discouraged, but he sometimes got the better of me when I would leave my coffee cup unattended. He stayed very close to me, on my chest, under my chin, and at one point said "Sticky Bird" in a throaty soft voice. I was wrecked. I just held him close and told him that it was okay for him to go, and he knew; I was sobbing. At 1:30 on that Saturday, he had some pain, and did a big flap, with my hands cupped around him just over my heart, which was breaking. He hitched a few times, looking at me the entire time, and then stopped breathing.

I wrapped him in a scarf, put him in a pretty box with his mirror and his favourite toy, and buried him in the garden. I'm having a marker made for him, for us, and to let everyone know what a special little guy he was. He was my friend, my flock, my sounding board, and my family. It's so quiet and hollow without him, he has taken part of my heart with him. These friends are the most amazing creatures, with a depth of perception unlike anything I've ever experienced. Take good care of them.

Thanks for letting me share this,
Jacki

[cpryslek]

i'm sorry for your deep sorrow. beyond words

[CALVINS MOM]

that's so sad - I cried as I read your story. I am so sorry.

You gave Sticky Bird a wonderful life. He lived for you.

[Dani#2]

I'm so sorry for your loss.

[Winged_Victory]

So very sorry for your loss. I can see in your post the love you gave to STICKY BIRD. Thank you so very much for being there..........tears.

[Quito's Qage]

Tears for sure. I'm so sorry that you lost Sticky Bird, its easy to see that you two had a very special relationship. Thank you for telling us about him.

[Tiffany]

I am so sorry for your loss. You can tell that Sticky Bird gave you love and you returned it. I am glad he had you in his life.

[svolk]

Jackie, I too, am crying as I read your post, and I feel your pain. I'm so sorry for your loss. Bless you for giving Sticky Bird such a wonderful life. Budgies are little angels for sure. I will be lost when that difficult day comes for my little Jerry-bird.

[Valo's Moirana]

i am so so sorry for your loss....

[mizbirdy]

I too am sorry that you lost your friend way too soon.....