No egg. No egg. No egg.

Darjeeling got another shot of calcium and oxytocin while Tea got his terrible diagnosis, but even now, several hours later, there is no egg. So her future will likely be short. But she's back in the Big House, and very happy to be there. And we'll hope her death is an easy one.

At the moment, of course, it's very hard not to feel terribly sad, and pessimistic. It's also disconcerting to have only four Finsters left in the Finsterium. Four older Finsters, I might add. Which is where the pessimism comes in. They will all die...sometime, and at some point, for some amount of time, there will be one left. And you can't have just one - finches are such social creatures. But the deaths have hit me hard, at the moment I can't imagine bringing more little creatures home that will die some day.

The local bird club is having their annual show tomorrow. I'll pick up some cards of Michigan breeders. I'll figure something out. Peanut would miss having his pet Finsters terribly, after all.

Apart from population issues, some inevitable health problems, (and the difficulty of paying bills if you're human), I believe that if you're nice and people love you, you ought to live forever. Especially Finsters.

I've already told Peanut he can never die.

Tea's cyst popped this morning ("ruptured" is the medical term). Bruce did his magic with the net, and it was magic, since it was daylight. I took a look at him, but the cyst was messier than I knew how to deal with, so he visited with Darjeeling in the hospital cage until we could get in to see the vet, which was nice for both birds.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a feather cyst, which he might have recovered from, it was a blood-filled tumor. Tea lost so much blood during the exam it was clear he wouldn't make it. So he got a shot of whatever poison they use to speed along a terrible death. I would have liked to hold him (although that might have added to his stress), but he was so messy from blood, and my hands were shaking so, that I didn't. He was a little slow to die, I suppose because he was fighting, but probably because he'd lost so much blood it took a bit for the poison to circulate. The vet (who has done this with me once before) very kindly checked him for a heartbeat with a stethescope - as big as the bird. Then she took him in the back room for a close look (diagnosis: cancer), and brought him back to me wrapped up in a little box. You can click here for a big picture - not that you probably want to. Don't worry, it's a bit morbid, I suppose (my first photo of a dead bird, I'll point out), but he's messy side down.

R.I.P. Tea, January 28, 1997 - July 31, 2004.

Darjeeling still hasn't laid an egg, so I took her back to the vet today. Poked and prodded by a third doctor, who couldn't quite choose between three options.

1. An egg, still not quite ready to pop out.
2. A tumor low in her body cavity, about where an egg would be if it were getting ready to pop out.
3. A tumor high in her body cavity, that's pushing her gizzard down lower in her body cavity, about where an egg would be if it were getting ready to pop out.

Since there's no action available for #2 or #3, she gave Darjeeling another shot, this time calcium and oxytocin, which is a hormone that speeds along contractions. If there's no egg by tomorrow, it's back to the vet again for another shot. And if there's no egg after that, then it's back to the Finsterium for the end of life among her friends, for as long as she's comfortable. But, we won't contemplate too much end of life stuff right now. Sigh.

In other health news, I described a just-discovered lump on Tea's face, right about where his right ear is, and sight unseen (which of course guarantees nothing) she guessed it was a feather cyst, which is sort of like an ingrown hair. They're more common on wing feathers, but they're common enough. It should definitely be checked out, and probably removed, and either way (since blood and a tiny bird are involved) could lead to, you know, end of life stuff. Sigh.

Not that one really needs another reason to drink coffee. But it turns out that unbleached paper coffee filters make a good toy. At least, Peanut thinks so. Takes a bit of work, but you can make spit balls out of them.

I woke up at about 1:45 this morning, and after getting a drink of water and doing, you know, other things, I heard a noise from the office: Darjeeling was awake, and down on the floor. I turned the overhead light on - having learned already that making any decisions in the light of a black light bulb is a bad idea - and took a look. She flew up to a perch upon my arrival, so I could see her vent area, which was wet and messy. It seemed odd that she was up in the middle of the night, but I couldn't decide if she was straining, or just groggy, like me, awake in the middle of the night.

Since I knew I'd never fall asleep again if I didn't, I caught her and put a few drops of liquid calcium on or near her beak.

She seems okay today, eating, drinking (calcium in the water), she took a bath already. Her vent area is still messy, and she hasn't laid an egg, but that could take a few more days. If she doesn't lay anything in two or three days, though, it's back to the vet.

Turns out that Darjeeling's thoughts have turned to love...or at least to procreation. The vets (two checked) think she's working on an egg. There's a lump, still pretty high up in her body, hard enough to suggest an egg rather than a tumor. This would explain her messy vent area and watery poops, since she's probably having a bit of a hard time eliminating.

Since she's older she got a shot of calcium. I'll continue to put calcium in her water, keep the hospital cage humid by draping a damp towel over one side, and let her take two baths a day (even though that's a bit disruptive since I have to clean up the paper after). Hopefully, she'll pass the egg in a day or so.

She was remarkably calm during the whole visit, and didn't seem bothered by the shot at all. But she sure did perk up when the crickets (food) in the toad cage started chirping! She probably thought there was another Society finch nearby.

I noticed yesterday morning that Darjeeling kept picking at her butt. Well, in bird terms that's her vent area, and a bit higher up on her tummy. It looked like she'd plucked out some of the feathers in that area, and the ones that were left were dirty and matted...with something. A particularly nasty poop? Blood? A broken egg? She was always a good egg layer, but it's been a couple of years since any of the Societies laid an egg. She was eating, pretty active, and since it was daytime there was no way to catch her without causing all the Finsters undue stress. So I watched her a lot, and waited. Unfortunately, I never saw her taking a big, long bath, which would have helped solve the mystery.

Bruce and I were going to catch her last night, but after thinking some depressing thoughts ("If she's going to die, wouldn't she be happier doing that smothered amongst her Finster friends than all alone in the hospital cage?") we decided to wait until first thing this morning. Bosco dying last month (of a broken leg?!?!?) and my aunt Rosalind dying the other night had me a bit pessimistic.

We weren't at it quite early enough this morning to make it easy, but Tea got a little adventure in Bob, and a toenail trim, and we got Darjeeling finally. A good look in the calm of the bathroom didn't reveal any clues. Clearly, she's had "an event." It seems to have involved some blood (bad), it seems to be over (good), and I didn't see any obvious signs of a specific problem (frustrating, but typical). I plopped her into some warm, slightly soapy water twice to try to clean her up a bit, wiping her off as best I could with tissues, and then put her quickly into the hospital cage to dry off and warm up. That's where she is now, all bored.

What she really seems to need right now is a long bath, which is one thing the hospital cage isn't good for, but a warm rest won't hurt, either. Vitamins and calcium in the water, I have an appointment with the vet for tomorrow morning (the earliest I could get) just in case. Apart from that, wait and see.

For the first time ever, I saw Frank eating pepper seeds today. That Frank! He had three or four of them. He's learned a lot from the Society Finsters.

Peanut was hunting for snacks on and around his house. I was sitting on the couch, having some snacks of my own. Peanut, who only just molted the first of his trimmed flight feathers, flew over to join me. Seeing that he didn't have enough lift, and was likely to land in either the glass of beer or the bowl of olives, I held my outstretched hands over the tableware. Saved!

On another, very exciting, food-related note, Frank ate corn today for the first time - that I've ever seen, anyway. He didn't eat much, but every little bit counts.