redthroatedloon: (Default)
[personal profile] redthroatedloon
This morning, as soon as I got downstairs, my neighbor Jane came to my front door and asked me to come outside, because she had a "cockatiel" on her front lawn. It turned out to be a little blue parakeet, sitting there looking stunned. Jane knew I was a bird watcher, so she figured I'd know what to do.

I found a shoebox, put some holes in it, and carefully picked up the bird. It was clutching onto the lawn and pulled some dried grass with it, but we didn't want to leave it there for the cats and squirrels. I put it in the box and put in a jar cap with some water in it. I steered it toward the water, and it clutched the edge of the cap with its claws, which I thought was a good sign. I thought about trying to feed it with a dropper, but thought that it would be better if it wasn't handled too much.

My S.O. was on his way home, so I figured when he got home, I'd go to the supermarket and pick up some bird seed, and if the bird survived the day, we'd get a small cage for it and equip it properly. I knew it would probably not live, but I couldn't help hoping I'd found myself a pet. (I had parakeets when I was a teen, so I knew how to care for them.)

About half an hour later, we heard some scrabbling from the box. I opened it, and saw the parakeet stretching out its wings, which I thought was an excellent sign. Then it toppled over, and died.

Poor thing. I know that this is a very, very small thing in the middle of a time of great suffering, but I still felt sorry for the poor little parakeet.

Date: 2005-09-10 08:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mz-bstone.livejournal.com
stars die, people die, parakeets die, and all are losses.

you don't have to weigh it, measure it.

that you feel it, and were there for it ... is such a grace.

B

Date: 2005-09-10 09:23 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] redthroatedloon.livejournal.com
Thank you. That's a lovely sentiment.

Date: 2005-09-10 08:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jenlev.livejournal.com
i'm so sorry it died. but i agree with what b. said. and i think it's a very good sign when we can care as much about a parakeet as we can about everything else. about a month after my beloved cat scarlet died (a year ago may), someone i used to know said "aren't you over that yet?" it was a startling moment of recognition for me; that he really didn't think an animal mattered. she was just a cat.

i share this because i hope that you'll give yourself permission to honor what appears to be a small thing. it really isn't, it carries the same impact as so much else. ack, this is hard to articulate. *hugs*

Date: 2005-09-10 09:22 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] redthroatedloon.livejournal.com
Thanks. I also had a cat for a while, and cared very much for it. My father buried it in the yard and put a piece of slate over it. I still come across it when I'm helping my mother care for the garden, and now I think of both my cat and my father when I see it.

Date: 2005-09-10 10:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jenlev.livejournal.com
wonderful that the meaning of those connections and relationships stay with us. i had my horse for 29 of his 31 years. although he died in 1993, he still feels so present in my life.

just now on my balcony there was a flurry of bird activity; finches, sparrows, nuthatch, and a downy woodpecker. i love how they persevere.

Date: 2005-09-10 03:49 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] redthroatedloon.livejournal.com
Oh, they do. And by the way, if a pileated woodpecker drops by, tell him/her to come my way. I saw one about 15 years ago, and haven't seen one since; it's been one of the great frustrations of my life. ;-)

Date: 2005-09-10 06:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jenlev.livejournal.com
they are amazing to see...and huge. i've only seen them a few times myself, and they were mesmerizing.

ps. if i saw one of those on my balcony i'd probably faint. and they're big enough that one of those could probably drill through the condo siding. hee!

Profile

redthroatedloon: (Default)
redthroatedloon

July 2010

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314 151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 09:19 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios