Crescent

[Corkscr.ew]

Yesterday I ran downstairs before sunrise to find my bird's head stuck between the bars of the grate at the bottom of his cage. His beak was latched firmly onto one of the bars so I impulsively pulled him free. The moment I pulled him, he suddenly became limp and I thought he'd died instantly. He was still alive hours later, so my mom and I took him to the vet. We were given anti-inflammatory medication that we knew was highly unlikely to help. By late afternoon he started having pronounced neurological symptoms, including rapid flapping of the wings that might have been seizures, and were absolutely horrible to watch. He couldn't stand and could barely open his eyes, and I tried to administer the medicine but he couldn't swallow it. I put him in a nest of paper towels in a box and monitored him for a while until I came back and found him dead. He was already stiff, so he'd likely been dead for a little while before I found him. I can't believe I wasn't there with him. He died alone in a box without any words of comfort. I thought he'd survive a few hours longer and that I'd get to hold him and tell him I loved him. I didn't get the chance because I wasn't with him the whole time. He had medicine staining his face because he couldn't drink it, and poop on his feet, and messy feathers. I cleaned him up and closed his eyes but I still couldn't recapture the way he looked when he was healthy.

He had already been to the vet once this week because of a mild infection. I got some antibiotics for him and he was recovering. He had just escaped death, and I was excited for many more years with him. I still have the antibiotics in my fridge. They'll never be finished. He had been out of his cage all day long for the past few days because he refused to go back. He loved breaking into the pellet bag, perching on windowsills, foraging on the floor, flight sessions, and greeting me when I got home. He gave me so much joy and love and fun and all I gave him was hours of suffering until his death. I didn't even hold him as he died. I thought he'd survive a few minutes without me, but he didn't.

He was my best friend. Nothing will ever fill the silence he left behind. I only got three years with him but they were so joyful and beautiful because of his presence. He started going berserk whenever he heard the door open, because he knew it was me coming home. He was obsessed with snow peas, pellets, and millet, but he didn't get to eat any of those during his last day. Multiple times a day I had to take him out of the pellet bag because he always found ways to break into it, no matter how tightly it was sealed. He was a great flier but he also liked to walk around on the floor and look for crumbs. I was always nervous to walk around because he was always on the floor. Now I don't have to watch where I'm stepping. I don't have to securely close the pellet bag. I can get home as late as I want because he won't be wondering where I am. When I walk through the door, I won't hear him chirping and jumping around his cage. My final memory of him is his limp body in a towel-lined box, flapping around with no control over his wings, with a limp neck and dirty feathers and closed eyes. The happy memories aren't coming to me anymore. When I think of him, I only see how he looked when he was dying.

Sorry for the extremely long post; I just really wanted to talk about him with people who understand. I'm crushed by his loss, but I'm happy that he's not suffering anymore.

 

[LaManuka]

Yesterday I ran downstairs before sunrise to find my bird's head stuck between the bars of the grate at the bottom of his cage. His beak was latched firmly onto one of the bars so I impulsively pulled him free. The moment I pulled him, he suddenly became limp and I thought he'd died instantly. He was still alive hours later, so my mom and I took him to the vet. We were given anti-inflammatory medication that we knew was highly unlikely to help. By late afternoon he started having pronounced neurological symptoms, including rapid flapping of the wings that might have been seizures, and were absolutely horrible to watch. He couldn't stand and could barely open his eyes, and I tried to administer the medicine but he couldn't swallow it. I put him in a nest of paper towels in a box and monitored him for a while until I came back and found him dead. He was already stiff, so he'd likely been dead for a little while before I found him. I can't believe I wasn't there with him. He died alone in a box without any words of comfort. I thought he'd survive a few hours longer and that I'd get to hold him and tell him I loved him. I didn't get the chance because I wasn't with him the whole time. He had medicine staining his face because he couldn't drink it, and poop on his feet, and messy feathers. I cleaned him up and closed his eyes but I still couldn't recapture the way he looked when he was healthy.

He had already been to the vet once this week because of a mild infection. I got some antibiotics for him and he was recovering. He had just escaped death, and I was excited for many more years with him. I still have the antibiotics in my fridge. They'll never be finished. He had been out of his cage all day long for the past few days because he refused to go back. He loved breaking into the pellet bag, perching on windowsills, foraging on the floor, flight sessions, and greeting me when I got home. He gave me so much joy and love and fun and all I gave him was hours of suffering until his death. I didn't even hold him as he died. I thought he'd survive a few minutes without me, but he didn't.

He was my best friend. Nothing will ever fill the silence he left behind. I only got three years with him but they were so joyful and beautiful because of his presence. He started going berserk whenever he heard the door open, because he knew it was me coming home. He was obsessed with snow peas, pellets, and millet, but he didn't get to eat any of those during his last day. Multiple times a day I had to take him out of the pellet bag because he always found ways to break into it, no matter how tightly it was sealed. He was a great flier but he also liked to walk around on the floor and look for crumbs. I was always nervous to walk around because he was always on the floor. Now I don't have to watch where I'm stepping. I don't have to securely close the pellet bag. I can get home as late as I want because he won't be wondering where I am. When I walk through the door, I won't hear him chirping and jumping around his cage. My final memory of him is his limp body in a towel-lined box, flapping around with no control over his wings, with a limp neck and dirty feathers and closed eyes. The happy memories aren't coming to me anymore. When I think of him, I only see how he looked when he was dying.

Sorry for the extremely long post; I just really wanted to talk about him with people who understand. I'm crushed by his loss, but I'm happy that he's not suffering anymore.

I'm so sorry for your loss of sweet Crescent, @Corkscr.ew, it's true that the tiniest of birds can leave the biggest imprints on our hearts. The happier memories will come in time even if they are tinged with sadness, it's a testament to how much we love them, a badge of honour that shows how much they mean to us. Do not underestimate the joy you gave him, it's evident in all the photos you've posted! I'm so sorry you didn't get to spend more time together, but a thousand lifetimes with these sweet angels could never be enough.

Godspeed to the Rainbow Bridge, beautiful Crescent, until we all meet again

 

[DonnaBudgie]

So many of us, myself included, have done something or failed to do something that caused one of our beloved birds' deaths. We never forget and we feel your pain. When I hear about tragic things like this I remember when I left a bucket of water on the floor next to the cage housing a new baby budgie. I left the cage door open and went out for the day. The breeder had trimmed his wings and he couldn't fly. We i got home i found him drowned in the bucket. I still cringe when I think about it 40 years later.

It gets easier. I promise. Lots of hugs.

 

[Corkscr.ew]

So many of us, myself included, have done something or failed to do something that caused one of our beloved birds' deaths. We never forget and we feel your pain. When I hear about tragic things like this I remember when I left a bucket of water on the floor next to the cage housing a new baby budgie. I left the cage door open and went out for the day. The breeder had trimmed his wings and he couldn't fly. We i got home i found him drowned in the bucket. I still cringe when I think about it 40 years later.

It gets easier. I promise. Lots of hugs.

That sounds horrible I’m sorry. Thanks for the condolences.

 

[TiredOldMan]

Would have, should have, could have.
I've been going through that for the last 7 months since Anakin passed. It is extremely hard thinking I might could have done something different and changed the outcome of that horrible evening.
I would give anything to have him back with me, however I know that is impossible.
I just have to try and console myself by doing the best I know how for my feathered masters and knowing that in my mind he is in a better place where no further harm can come to him.

 

[kme3388]

I promise once this guilt subsides you will remember all of the beautiful moments you had with your parrot. It’s so hard to say goodbye to any loved one yet alone one who was in bad condition in the end. It really can make you forget the beauty in them. These are beautiful photos of your parrot that you shared. Try to look at them, and focus on celebrating his life. You did everything you could to save, and support your parrot in the end. There are countless story’s on here of accidents with parrots. They are so fragile. Accidents truly do happen.

I had a cockatiel growing up who got her head stuck in a toy. There was blood everywhere because she flapped her wings so hard she snapped some of her primary flight feathers right off. She survived luckily. We do think something happened though because she was a little different after that. This cockatiel was a replacement for the lovebird a family dog ate while I was away. I was a young teenager back then, and my parents just went out, and got me another parrot. My lovebird was very bonded to me, and at that time I myself wasn’t ready for another parrot.

Please don’t blame yourself. The wildness is cruel, and you provided your wonderful parrot with a home.