Sterling1113
New member
I'm sure you guys know how much I love birds- and I have since I was very young.
Diddy was the start of my infatuations with the feathered beauties. We had just gone to my grandfather's funeral(On my mom's side) and being as young as I was, I didn't quite understand, so I wasn't all that torn up. I knew he was gone, but I just didn't make the connection of what 'death' was. I was probably 6 or 7.
We visited an aunt of mine, whom I hadn't seen in years, and haven't seen again since. She had a lovely female pearled cockatiel- named Diddy. She let her out of her cage, and let her get on my shoulder and give me kisses. It was the greatest thing ever.
Diddy was an old bird(for a tiel), she was closing in on her mid-twenties (I'd say around 23.) She was still full of spirit and would fly around. While the adults were gathered around, talking 'adult' stuff, Diddy had flown from her cage and attempted to perch atop an old prom trophy- which fell, and shattered. The family decided then and there that they were tired of the bird, and insisted that if we didn't take her, they'd put a bullet in her. (Which to me, was awful- I loved this little bird.)
So, we went home with Diddy, my first bird. She was fantastic. We never clipped her wings, she would ride with me everywhere and give me kisses, she never once tried to bite me.(With one exception.)
At the house we lived in at the time, we had two dobermans. Angel and Xar. Angel was ours, she was well-behaved and a family dog. You could put her in a room filled with wine glasses and she wouldn't knock over a single one.
Xar, he was clumsy. He would knock over each cup just to see what happened.
One day I was in my brother's room with Diddy, the door was closed for the dogs to stay out, and she was playing with me quietly. My mom opened the door to check on me, and Xar came bounding through the door, much to my dismay.
This is one of the reasons I couldn't have tiels again- I only have a handful of good memories from when I was little before my mom's alcoholism got bad, and this is one of them.
Xar pushed passed my mom and I, jumped up and caught Diddy mid-flight. He flung her to the ground, and in one quick chomp, he had her whole wing in his mouth. I was mortified. My mom, acting on pure adrenaline, grabbed Xar(a hulking doberman in attack mode) and pulled him away from Diddy, just long enough for me to pick her up and get out of the room. That's when Diddy bit me, she was terrified and hurting beyond all imagination.
We wrapped her up in a towel and took her to the ER vet immediately. I was certain she wouldn't make it, if she hadn't lost enough blood, the shock would do her over for sure.
After a long, foggy amount of time(I was young, so my memory is in patches.) we got her home with instructions to give her a shot once a day, for 5 days, to keep her wing from getting infected. They had stitched her up and placed her wing where it should be, and let it heal.
She never argued her medicine. She never bit me or my mom while giving her shots, she just wanted to rest. After the stitches came out, we were told she would never fly again, due to her wing healing crooked(it hung a bit, so her flight feathers sat under her vent, so I cleaned her several times a day to keep her feathers from being soiled.)
However, about a year later, after tons of practicing and flapping her wings like mad on top of her cage, she learned to fly again. It was wobbly, sure, but she could fly despite what she'd been through.
About another year or so passed and one evening when I was playing with her in my room, she became very tired. She wouldn't perch, so I made her a little bed on the bottom of her cage, tucked her in with her blanket(I was like 7, it was a piece of toilet paper.) and told her goodnight. The next morning when I got up she had passed in her sleep. She was roughly 25, and she was a best friend to a little girl who grew up in a bad part of town. She went through so much with us, but she still pulled through and amazed us every day.
To this day she holds a special place in my heart, and every time I share a special moment with any of my birds, I go back and thank Diddy for that, because she showed me that true friendship and love doesn't have to come from a human- just because they have beaks and feathers doesn't make the bond any less real. The night she passed I understood what death was, and that it was not something to regret or be angry about, but something to appreciate. She, much like my grandfather, was old, sore, and just tired. It was time for them both. Ever since then I thought of death differently. I knew she was flying up above somewhere, her wing wasn't crooked anymore and her feathers would never soil. And I knew my grandparents were up there with her, keeping her company until I could see her again.
Sorry for such a long post, but sometimes it's nice to have a little bit of closure, even on some things that happened so long ago. I tried to have another cockatiel after her passing, but he just wasn't the bird for me. I knew he wouldn't be another Diddy, and I was okay with that, I just couldn't do it. He(Sterling) currently lives with an old friend of mine, with a female, Skittles. They're both healthy and happy and in good care.
I'm now 19, turning 20 in July, so Diddy would be in her mid thirties right now. I just felt like I needed to really sit down and appreciate her, if only for a little while. She'll always be remembered, I know that for sure.
Diddy was the start of my infatuations with the feathered beauties. We had just gone to my grandfather's funeral(On my mom's side) and being as young as I was, I didn't quite understand, so I wasn't all that torn up. I knew he was gone, but I just didn't make the connection of what 'death' was. I was probably 6 or 7.
We visited an aunt of mine, whom I hadn't seen in years, and haven't seen again since. She had a lovely female pearled cockatiel- named Diddy. She let her out of her cage, and let her get on my shoulder and give me kisses. It was the greatest thing ever.
Diddy was an old bird(for a tiel), she was closing in on her mid-twenties (I'd say around 23.) She was still full of spirit and would fly around. While the adults were gathered around, talking 'adult' stuff, Diddy had flown from her cage and attempted to perch atop an old prom trophy- which fell, and shattered. The family decided then and there that they were tired of the bird, and insisted that if we didn't take her, they'd put a bullet in her. (Which to me, was awful- I loved this little bird.)
So, we went home with Diddy, my first bird. She was fantastic. We never clipped her wings, she would ride with me everywhere and give me kisses, she never once tried to bite me.(With one exception.)
At the house we lived in at the time, we had two dobermans. Angel and Xar. Angel was ours, she was well-behaved and a family dog. You could put her in a room filled with wine glasses and she wouldn't knock over a single one.
Xar, he was clumsy. He would knock over each cup just to see what happened.
One day I was in my brother's room with Diddy, the door was closed for the dogs to stay out, and she was playing with me quietly. My mom opened the door to check on me, and Xar came bounding through the door, much to my dismay.
This is one of the reasons I couldn't have tiels again- I only have a handful of good memories from when I was little before my mom's alcoholism got bad, and this is one of them.
Xar pushed passed my mom and I, jumped up and caught Diddy mid-flight. He flung her to the ground, and in one quick chomp, he had her whole wing in his mouth. I was mortified. My mom, acting on pure adrenaline, grabbed Xar(a hulking doberman in attack mode) and pulled him away from Diddy, just long enough for me to pick her up and get out of the room. That's when Diddy bit me, she was terrified and hurting beyond all imagination.
We wrapped her up in a towel and took her to the ER vet immediately. I was certain she wouldn't make it, if she hadn't lost enough blood, the shock would do her over for sure.
After a long, foggy amount of time(I was young, so my memory is in patches.) we got her home with instructions to give her a shot once a day, for 5 days, to keep her wing from getting infected. They had stitched her up and placed her wing where it should be, and let it heal.
She never argued her medicine. She never bit me or my mom while giving her shots, she just wanted to rest. After the stitches came out, we were told she would never fly again, due to her wing healing crooked(it hung a bit, so her flight feathers sat under her vent, so I cleaned her several times a day to keep her feathers from being soiled.)
However, about a year later, after tons of practicing and flapping her wings like mad on top of her cage, she learned to fly again. It was wobbly, sure, but she could fly despite what she'd been through.
About another year or so passed and one evening when I was playing with her in my room, she became very tired. She wouldn't perch, so I made her a little bed on the bottom of her cage, tucked her in with her blanket(I was like 7, it was a piece of toilet paper.) and told her goodnight. The next morning when I got up she had passed in her sleep. She was roughly 25, and she was a best friend to a little girl who grew up in a bad part of town. She went through so much with us, but she still pulled through and amazed us every day.
To this day she holds a special place in my heart, and every time I share a special moment with any of my birds, I go back and thank Diddy for that, because she showed me that true friendship and love doesn't have to come from a human- just because they have beaks and feathers doesn't make the bond any less real. The night she passed I understood what death was, and that it was not something to regret or be angry about, but something to appreciate. She, much like my grandfather, was old, sore, and just tired. It was time for them both. Ever since then I thought of death differently. I knew she was flying up above somewhere, her wing wasn't crooked anymore and her feathers would never soil. And I knew my grandparents were up there with her, keeping her company until I could see her again.
Sorry for such a long post, but sometimes it's nice to have a little bit of closure, even on some things that happened so long ago. I tried to have another cockatiel after her passing, but he just wasn't the bird for me. I knew he wouldn't be another Diddy, and I was okay with that, I just couldn't do it. He(Sterling) currently lives with an old friend of mine, with a female, Skittles. They're both healthy and happy and in good care.
I'm now 19, turning 20 in July, so Diddy would be in her mid thirties right now. I just felt like I needed to really sit down and appreciate her, if only for a little while. She'll always be remembered, I know that for sure.
