Jump to navigation
The Finster Log
Distractions
Posted on: 03/18/08, 15:01:29
Bambi was a Zebra finch from my second group of purchased Finsters. I should tell her whole story one day, because it's a good story, and she was a Good Bird. But lately I've been thinking of bed time, near the end of her life. Because of several physical problems, due to both bad genes and unfortunate events (including an increased aversion to bathing near the end of her life), she became unable to fly from the floor of the Finsterium up to the nest boxes. By this point, she was such a mess that the other Zebra finches didn't recognize her as a bird, so she was sleeping with the Society finches (just one of the many reasons I love Societies). When it came time to settle down to bed, we would catch her up, place her gently on the designated nest box, wait for all the Societies to pile on top of her, and turn the lights out so they'd settle in to sleep. That sweet ritual lasted for a few months, before she finally died.
Since I turned on the heat light for Oolong back on March 5, she has become a Floor Bird during the day, snacking and napping in the light on the ground of the Finsterium. These past few days, she's needed help flying up to the nest boxes. An extra perch or two added, but we're basically just catching her up (oh! so easy) and popping her head first into a nest box. Cinnamon and Ginger aren't quite as welcoming as the Societies were with Bambi, so it's been a little tricky coordinating bed time. They aren't always quick to join her in the nest box, but if they don't join her quickly, she'll leave the box, hop out onto a perch, and — just as often as not — lose her balance and thud to the floor. It's taken a few nights for us to coordinate ourselves, and turn the lights out quickly (and early).
Oolong, Still Alive! But looking a bit more ragged than this photo, which I took with the door open, a few days ago. She'd just eaten, and still has squeezins on her beak.
It's very hard to have a bird in hospice care, and a little distracting. Harley doesn't like it much, either. At first I thought the electrical cord to the heat light was scaring him, but it's pretty clear that he knows Oolong isn't well, and has stopped spending time on the perch in the kitchen, so close to a sick bird.
Well, it's not like the stove is a safe place for him to be.
Since I turned on the heat light for Oolong back on March 5, she has become a Floor Bird during the day, snacking and napping in the light on the ground of the Finsterium. These past few days, she's needed help flying up to the nest boxes. An extra perch or two added, but we're basically just catching her up (oh! so easy) and popping her head first into a nest box. Cinnamon and Ginger aren't quite as welcoming as the Societies were with Bambi, so it's been a little tricky coordinating bed time. They aren't always quick to join her in the nest box, but if they don't join her quickly, she'll leave the box, hop out onto a perch, and — just as often as not — lose her balance and thud to the floor. It's taken a few nights for us to coordinate ourselves, and turn the lights out quickly (and early).
Oolong, Still Alive! But looking a bit more ragged than this photo, which I took with the door open, a few days ago. She'd just eaten, and still has squeezins on her beak.
It's very hard to have a bird in hospice care, and a little distracting. Harley doesn't like it much, either. At first I thought the electrical cord to the heat light was scaring him, but it's pretty clear that he knows Oolong isn't well, and has stopped spending time on the perch in the kitchen, so close to a sick bird.
Well, it's not like the stove is a safe place for him to be.
Comments
03/19/08, 13:52:51
I'm reminded of my ZF Papageno in his last years. After his mate died, he stopped taking care of himself, stopped bathing and preening, rather like an old man who doesn't know how to cook or do laundry and gets shabby after his wife is gone. He had a close relationship with Nell the Canary which proved rather bad for her in the long run, and we had to separate them. Every evening, Peter Wimsey and Abelard, a Silverbill and a Black-Headed Nun, would come and sit with him, to keep him warm. Has he really been gone six years? I remember he slipped away while I was out of the room for a minute, in February of '02.
03/19/08, 16:33:38
Isn't it amazing how such tiny, fragile creatures can have such busy lives - and touch us so profoundly?
We were worried this morning that we ought to be taking Oolong to the vet, to speed along a difficult death. I don't want her to suffer. But she perked up a bit after awhile. Still dying, though.
We were worried this morning that we ought to be taking Oolong to the vet, to speed along a difficult death. I don't want her to suffer. But she perked up a bit after awhile. Still dying, though.
03/19/08, 16:37:00
I shall miss Oolong.
03/19/08, 16:55:46
Yeah.
I miss them all.
I miss them all.