Just Another Bird…

“I wish I didn’t keep losing me birds!”

Remember those funny little public information films from the late to mid seventies?  Well if you were around at that time, you just might…  They covered everything from littering to the coast guard.  And the line above, seemed/s appropriate…

It seems I’m quite handy at losing my birds too…

My pigeon, Sally, had long gone.  I mourned after her for years.  Odd?  Well, love, in its demonstrative form wasn’t particularly forthcoming in those early years.

Aunty Doreen had a budgie.  Daisy.  Aunty Doreen was great!  She was as mad as a pan of crabs, and although suffering terribly with anxiety and depression in later life, her crackpot personality shone out in every direction!  She was enthusiastically and I think sometimes deliberately eccentric!  She died a few months ago, however, one of her last stunts was to attempt to drive her mobility scooter almost twelve miles from one town to another!  Trundling along out in the middle of nowhere, her batteries flattened!  Anyway, she wanted to re-home Daisy and I nagged and nagged mum to let me have her…  Daisy was very old and her plumage was cutely scruffy but she was lovely!  She didn’t have much to say for herself – the odd chirp or when she appeared annoyed, for whatever reason, she’d give out a shrill, chipping, seemingly disapproving string of chirps!  She also had rickets and we had a supplement to put in her water to help with this.  Daisy would also fall from her perch now and then as she dozed, and many was the time we thought her dead, as often, she’d lay in the cage motionless for a good few moments!

Mum relented and despite claiming that dust from budgies irritated her asthma, she was always quite happy and keen to clean the cage.  We had Daisy for years and goodness knows how old she actually was?  She hung on though.  Her random drops from the perch were increasing, her feathers were becoming fewer and it got to a point where a chirp might not be heard for days on end…  I loved Daisy.  I couldn’t pass the cage without talking to her.  And, she was the first I said good morning to in the morning and the last I said nanite to in the evening.  Needless to say there came the time when Daisy shuffled off to that great aviary in the sky.  I think her passing was more to do with her age really, and perhaps not the turpentine my brother put in her water dish…in an attempt to, put her out of her misery...



About Robert

A fifty-something, retired Celestial Travel Agent. Walked many paths; some good, lots bad. Meandering through the past, plodding in the present, crawling toward the future.
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