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.