Willie's Last Flight
On November 10th Willie died. He was one of three Congo African Grey parrots with whom I've been blessed to share this life. My first one Penny--flew away accidentally when I was distracted to go play the bagpipes for a commemoration shortly after 9-11. The other two Willie and Conway belonged to my dad when he was alive so there was that connection to let go of as well. He started just getting wobbly on his perch and got listless and sleepy. I know that often by the time you see them ill they are nearly gone. The birds hide illness or weakness as a survival mechanism. The avian vet I was referred to did an excellent job in my opinion. He was there for both me and the bird. What looked like a calcium deficiency at the beginning was probably more like a pituitary tumor because of the rapid deterioration of neuromuscular control and seizures that began to manifest themselves in hospital. It was just the bad luck that sometimes occurs in life.
I remember the words from the "Little Prince" by Antoine De Saint-Exupery:
"Many have forgotten this truth, but you must not forget it. You remain responsible, forever, for what you have tamed." I did my best and in particular in the last few months I've really been conscientious about giving them a variety of fruits, vegetables, seed, etc. They were the picture of health and Willie was the "big eater." He loved broccoli. Hell--we'd all do well to eat like those birds ate. He weighed more than Conway consistently and I noticed a subtle reduction in his weight a week before he got weak and sleepy and wobbly. I spent a lot of time with him. The fact that Conway survived is an echo of the notion that "only the good die young." Willie was so gentle and craved just to be with me on my shoulder--a quiet presence in my noisy life. Conway may actually be more intelligent and certainly talks more, but Willie just loved to be with me. I drove to the hospital with Stephanie to say "goodbye" to him before he was euthanized. He would have starved otherwise. In his eyes, the "lights were still on." I buried him later that day with a lot of tears.
It is another opportunity for me to say "goodbye" to my dad. I wonder if Willie flew to meet him. I like to think so. I like to think that animals do have some place in the vast chambers of eternity. Jesus shows up in John's Revelation as the Rider on the White Horse, afterall. I remember when my dad's voice visited me in a profound dream after he was killed. His voice was like one who had just gently awakened from a beautiful dream and he told me that he could not describe what it was like on the other side except to say without giving anything more away, that it was "a lot like fishing." I'm sure that it is even better now that he has his buddy bird back. I like to think that dad will let me hold the bird again, someday.
Animals are a fabulous gift on our journey and I recognize that even as my life marches on. There are other birds to tame and with every goodbye, we learn. Knowing that all relationships can come to an end so fast is a real challenge to appreciate them here and now. At least it was not a human being, but the emptiness is nevertheless very real. I like what Corrie Ten Boom said: "Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future. " Willie will always soar joyfully in my memories.
I remember the words from the "Little Prince" by Antoine De Saint-Exupery:
"Many have forgotten this truth, but you must not forget it. You remain responsible, forever, for what you have tamed." I did my best and in particular in the last few months I've really been conscientious about giving them a variety of fruits, vegetables, seed, etc. They were the picture of health and Willie was the "big eater." He loved broccoli. Hell--we'd all do well to eat like those birds ate. He weighed more than Conway consistently and I noticed a subtle reduction in his weight a week before he got weak and sleepy and wobbly. I spent a lot of time with him. The fact that Conway survived is an echo of the notion that "only the good die young." Willie was so gentle and craved just to be with me on my shoulder--a quiet presence in my noisy life. Conway may actually be more intelligent and certainly talks more, but Willie just loved to be with me. I drove to the hospital with Stephanie to say "goodbye" to him before he was euthanized. He would have starved otherwise. In his eyes, the "lights were still on." I buried him later that day with a lot of tears.
It is another opportunity for me to say "goodbye" to my dad. I wonder if Willie flew to meet him. I like to think so. I like to think that animals do have some place in the vast chambers of eternity. Jesus shows up in John's Revelation as the Rider on the White Horse, afterall. I remember when my dad's voice visited me in a profound dream after he was killed. His voice was like one who had just gently awakened from a beautiful dream and he told me that he could not describe what it was like on the other side except to say without giving anything more away, that it was "a lot like fishing." I'm sure that it is even better now that he has his buddy bird back. I like to think that dad will let me hold the bird again, someday.
Animals are a fabulous gift on our journey and I recognize that even as my life marches on. There are other birds to tame and with every goodbye, we learn. Knowing that all relationships can come to an end so fast is a real challenge to appreciate them here and now. At least it was not a human being, but the emptiness is nevertheless very real. I like what Corrie Ten Boom said: "Memories are the key not to the past, but to the future. " Willie will always soar joyfully in my memories.
posted by wdc at 11:48 PM
0 comments
