Monday was a rough morning. My first bird ever, Twopiece, was at the bottom of the cage. He scared me enough that hubby dug a hole in the back next to where his mate is buried.
Twopiece came home with me in 1998 and is roughly 17-18 years old. I always told myself when he is no longer with us I would be okay for he has had a long life. I was wrong, that was a lie. I am not ready for my little man to go just yet.
The problem with birds is by the time you notice they are not well they are almost always on their way to being gone. They hide their sickness which is a trait they learn in the wild. What is amazing is how my other birds were there supporting him, all of them as they try to cheer him on.
The next few days we will see how it goes. I just don’t want him in pain, and there is little I can do to help him if he is except bring him to the vet.
I was in denial the entire day as I hoped this was just as scare . For anyone who think birds can’t be as loving as a dog or cat has never been around a bird before for any great amount of time.
Since 1998 I have had a hell of a lot of surgeries, procedures, in and out-patient procedures and each time Twopiece has sat on my shoulder either grooming my hair or singing in my ear as he helped me forget the pain I was feeling. They all do this for me.
But TP is special since he is my first bird ever. The average life of a cockatiel is 15-20 years though some do live longer. Twopiece is in his golden years so I know the time could be close. The scary part is the rest of my tiels are all a year apart and in their middle years as well.
I am not ready yet and I hope he isn’t either. The crappy part of being a pet owner. Though I don’t consider any of mybirds pets but more the line as my feathery friends.
Twopiece is doing better as of today. He is eating, drinking and grooming himself. These are all good signs. I will be watching him carefully. But I think it is time I cover up the hole that my husband dug up on Monday before the little guy gets any idea of using it.