Bird Bother Has Us Flying…By The Seat Of Our Pants
Our dearest–in terms of both emotion and bloody expense–little mate gave us a bit of a shock the past few days as Dino, our rosy faced lovebird, appeared to be petering (ptering?) toward the brink only to slowly move toward recovery.
I’m guilty as I’ve been sharing meals (and snacks) with Dino for years now, and she also shares my love for carbs and cheese, making her as fat and unhealthy as I am.
You’d never know it, though, as she is vigorous and active, spending nearly all day out of her cage and flying freely throughout our home.
But something seemed amiss on Friday when she was clearly in some discomfort, ruffling her feathers and unable to gleefully take a dump on me as is customary for her upon awakening.
I pondered taking her to an avian vet, but Mrs. Kangaeroo put her hand up to do so even after having just finished a grueling night shift.
They headed off to the vet some distance away and returned several hours later with Mrs. Kangaeroo having been severely berated for indulging the bird, who was ailing through having developed abdominal inflammation from eating too many human foods and not enough fresh fruit and veg.
Dino is a bundle of trouble. If she doesn’t have eggs (to which she becomes fully devoted and territorially defends), she clings to us relentlessly. But she was having trouble breathing, did not engage in conversation as she normally does, and kept her feathers ruffled, which is a sign of an ailing avian.
No more human food for Dino. Instead, she got a mouthful of medicine that she clearly detested, spitting it out and waving her head around to eliminate the taste, and was then stuck in her cage with only vitamin pellets to eat if she felt like eating at all. Clearly, sleep was also going to be crucial.
Fearing the worst, I was delighted to wake Saturday to find her clinging on, but still not healthy. We decided to go out and left the bird alone so she could eat her healthy food and imbibe of the medicine filling her drink container. When I checked a camera monitoring her a few hours later, she was rigorously trying to escape from her cage, giving some hope that she was feeling better. When I looked a little later, the camera revealed that she had succeeded in getting out.
This raised new worries as she could get into all sorts of trouble if left unattended, as she was. She had flown into a window earlier in the day, the first time ever, and I feared the medicine and her condition, added to panic, could lead to the worst possible outcome. Fortunately, Mrs. Kangaeroo arrived home to be greeted by the bloody bird flying from our living room directly to her. The initial delight soon gave way to the signs that all was not well. It was bed once again. And prayers.
Sunday finally brought signs of improvement. Our initial idea to go out fell by the wayside as the weather was bleak, so we stayed home and looked after the bird and the home. Gradually, Dino began to poop with regularity, and also cheeped like her old self. She spent most of the day inside my shirt as I went about my studies and attended a work call. And she made an exceptional effort to avoid being put into her cage, which was a promising sign of recovery.
The past few days raised the spectre of losing Dino. I will be shattered, even though she is “only” a lovebird. She is more than that for me, the bloody nuisance. Throughout the pandemic, she was my sole companion for long periods of time. She brings me comfort and joy in immeasurable quantities, even though I stop going on long bike rides mainly because I felt sorry for her being left alone, which she clearly doesn’t enjoy. That has helped usher in a whole plethora of ailments for me as I drastically curtailed my cycling to be with her. I wouldn’t have it any other way, really, so fearing for her demise made for a bit of a harrowing time.
