Santa, Chickens, and Peace on Earth

     A Merry Christmas to all! Ours started at 4:30 and was over by 4:45, and I am lucky it even lasted that long; that’s life with a six year old. Weeks of shopping, hunting for deals and just the right toys, hiding purchases, gift wrapping, planning, and finally, talking myself out of the remote control Lightening McQueen because I really wanted to play with it (his eyes move and he says over 35 different phrases!); it was all over in an instant. I am sure I will live to regret the purchase of the video spy watch and its ability to record both sound and picture, with night vision, no less, but it was all my relatively non materialistic child asked for, and I was rewarded with a reverent “It’s what I wanted...how did Santa know?” spoken barely above a whisper as he gazed in wonder at the box. We’ve all had that moment in childhood where we received that special gift that we hoped for beyond hope, which of course has been immortalized forever by Raphie and “A Christmas Story”. My son has maybe a couple of years left to believe in Santa, but I don’t think any of us who celebrate Christmas ever really get over that feeling of magic, of hope and joy that Santa brings when you are of the age that you believe, unquestioningly, in the story of Santa.

     This year I found a different kind of joy, as I put forth a holiday wish for anyone who felt they could donate to my nonprofit parrot rescue do so, and I was touched by the generous donations we received. Raising money is the never ending goal of a non profit and we are not even a year old. But the dedication and support I have seen in the past year has truly overwhelmed me. And I have found that it often is the people who already give a lot, either in time or money, that keep on giving. Figuring out how to keep our shelter going, with the never ending need requests for surrenders, is what has occupied me most of this year, and why other pastimes, such as blogging, have quietly faded into the background of my life. I realize that infrequent, and then nonexistent postings, is pretty much the death knell of a blog. But in my current sleep deprived state it seems like a perfect time to start it up again. I am not sure how often I will write new posts; I would like to think at least once a week. I certainly don’t have a shortage of ideas, only time. But like anything else in life if I want to write badly enough I’ll find the time.

Summertime...

     I feel I must update this blog, even if it is only to say that I haven't had time to work on it. There never is a shortage of stories, and I have several new good ones.Time is always the issue. In addition to the work in coordinating a number of new surrenders to our rescue, I have been busy updating the other websites and adding new links for the non profit. One site I am particularly excited about is http://givemn.razoo.com/story/Parrots Here I have set up a page with a couple of fundraising options for the birds. I am hoping that those of you who check in to this blog every now and then will also join that site as a fan! November 16th is give to the max day with the possibility of receiving matching donations. I also added fan pages on Face book for both the store and the rescue.

      But admittedly it hasn't been all about work. The winter was so long and our summer is so short I have been trying to get outside and enjoy the summer as much as possible, which includes a lot of time spent around the outdoor pool at the Y or Lifetime. I only feel the slightest twinge of guilt as I swim my laps, knowing swimming outside will be a distant memory in less than two months. If you visit my other sites, you know we have taken in a number of new birds: Macy and Simon, Bing, Louie, and a little cockatiel that will probably be the subject of my next entry. Today three more cockatiels will be arriving, and within the next month I am expecting another Quaker and additional cockatiels from the same home as Macy, Simon, and Linda. We are working on a plan to create a new flight for our small birds that will be more functional, brighter and larger.

Happy Ending (Guaranteed)

     A few weeks ago my son and I went to see the movie Rio. I knew that despite the bad guys and the narrow escapes, obstacles, and near death incidences we were guaranteed a happy ending. For my son, it was truly a happy ending, as his knowledge of bird smuggling was confined to the movie screen. For me it wasn’t quite so carefree, since I knew that however well the movie turned out the reality of smuggling was quite different. Still, it was a good movie and even I got caught up in the plot and knew that no matter what, the ending was going to be happy;  that the Blue Macaws (Hyacinth Macaws) would be reunited in the end. I also hugely appreciated the fact that the villainous parrot in the movie was an Umbrella Cockatoo.

     The past couple of months have not been easy ones, with the losses of several of our birds. It doesn’t really matter where I am; day and night I am generally worried about something related to the birds and the rescue. There are uncertainties and problems to be resolved, and at times a lot of stress. So every once in awhile it is fun to think back to a time in my life when things were easier and know in advance that the ending will be a happy one, guaranteed. In fact, the following incident with Georgia, the cat I wrote about last year, sticks out as one of my best memories. (see blog posts June 20th and June 27th 2010 for more about Georgia)
     This happened at a time when I was struggling with the decision over whether or not to let Georgia outside. I was hesitant to do so for the obvious reasons; we lived on a busy street and I didn’t want anything to happen to her, I did not want to worry about the neighboring wildlife, nor about her being picked up by animal control or taken by someone else. But she became more and more relentless, meowing and scratching at the door, and I finally relented. And that is how Birdie, an orphaned wild bird, came into my life.

     The day before Birdie arrived there was a heavy spring rainstorm, and I am assuming that is how Georgia found the bird. I had never seen Georgia climb a tree, although I have had other cats that would sit in a tree for hours. Georgia’s favorite pastime was to hide in the tall grass and watch the world around her. When I came home my husband told me Georgia had brought in a baby bird. Apparently she strolled into the apartment, dropped the bird at his feet, then sat down and looked at him. Imitaz didn’t know what to do so he set it outside on a window ledge until I got home. I walked outside, feeling overwhelmed with guilt. My cat had just taken the life of a baby bird. However, when I saw the bird it was quite unbelievably and improbably very alive…and promptly opened his beak the minute I picked him up. Even though Georgia hadn’t harmed it in the least, the bird was so young he was almost completely featherless. I thought it a miracle that he hadn’t died from exposure. I knew I had to first get the bird warm and then feed him as soon as possible. I took the bird inside and put him in a box lined with soft cloths surrounded by jars of hot water that I changed as soon as they cooled down. I didn’t really expect this little guy to live, but I was going to do all that I could. When I was only 15 years old I spent a summer volunteering in a vet clinic. I assisted in surgery, developed x-rays, helped rehab wildlife, and did a lot of other jobs usually designated for vet techs. (This was over 30 years ago and laws were less stringent than now, or perhaps this particular vet chose not to observe them). It was a great learning experience, and one of the things I learned was how to care for orphaned wildlife, so I had a pretty good idea how to care for this bird.

Memorial Day

     I want to thank all of you who have expressed your sympathy  over our recent losses, both in person and here. I know from speaking to many of you that you have also suffered the loss of beloved pets over the years. Memorial Day is a good time to honor all those who have meant something to you in life, as well as paying respect to the thousands and thousands of men and women who have lost their lives to keep this country safe in so many wars. Being the owner of a small business means I rarely get a holiday off, but I am not complaining. I am grateful to be living in a country where I can safely pursue my passions of the heart. And as the child of a career military man, I grew up on air bases rather than in the suburbs. I have always had a deep respect for what it means to serve in the military. Visiting a military cemetery and viewing row after row of identical white headstones is truly sobering. I always try, on Memorial Day weekend, to pause on that for a minute and mentally thank those who serve this country. I, of course, also try to honor my personal losses, even if it is while cleaning cages!

     I am working on my next blog entry, which at long last is the conclusion to my story about Georgia. For those of you who care to reread parts 1 and 2 the posts are from last June 20th and 27th (where DOES the time go??) All I will say at this point is it is a happy ending, guaranteed!

Clarabelle

Clarabelle

     I write my rough drafts in my head, when I am cleaning, or working, and don’t have time to write, and this was going to be a different entry. It was going to be a story of strength, survival against all odds, of a tiny bird’s will to live. But instead it will be a tribute to a small soul that barely got to experience life.

     Spring is generally a time of renewal, of joy, as we Minnesotans recover from winter and embrace the sun and new life around us. There are the geese and ducks that return, the perennials popping out of the ground, the trees starting to bud. This has been a Spring slow to arrive. My perennials are way behind schedule, and I have yet to put in any annuals. It has also been a couple of weeks of sadness, with the loss of Magic. Pete is doing better; he is coping and moving on as all living things must do. I wish her death was the only recent loss we have suffered. Sadly, we recently loss Bill, our store canary, apparently from natural causes. The day before his death he was running cheerfully around as he always does. He died that night in his sleep. I returned home from work and learned that the neighbor’s dog killed the female duck that had been nesting in our yard for at least ten years. Her mate sits on a nearby roof top gently calling, calling for his mate, unable to give up hope. A week later he is still there. My eyes are drawn to the roof by an unconscious pull; I know I will feel a stab of sorrow when I see him and yet I feel I must acknowledge his loss.




Clarabelle's legs were essentially backward

 

     So this has not been the best Spring. Instead of focusing on life and renewal it is more about death and loss. And then Clarabelle came in to my life, a three week old cockatiel bred by some inexperienced home breeder who failed to provide the parents with the adequate nutrition so this little bird was born with the worst case of splayed legs I had ever seen. The legs were wrapped completely around, facing backward. She could not perch at all, but had to rest uncomfortably on her chest. She was barely eating and her keel bone was protruding. But we took her in, hoping to make a difference. My initial thought was to simply feed her and keep her comfortable. I didn’t think she would live through the night. I did not plan to take her in to our vet, thinking there was little that could be done. The next day, though, I changed my mind. She was eating pretty well for me, and I wanted Dr. Baillie’s to help me tape her legs and correct the deformity. Over the phone he agreed, not knowing how severe it was. At the clinic he asked me if I could hold her, and I said sure. He examined her legs and then stepped back, leaning against the exam table. I knew he was thinking, and I waited. He said, “I’ll have to do surgery to correct this.” No, I thought. She’ll never survive. When I voiced this thought Dr. Baillie said “She’ll never survive without it. The legs are so twisted she’ll never be able to get off her chest.” He said she has a 50% chance of making it through the surgery; without it, she has no chance.

A Tale of Two Tiels

     Early in 2005, I received a call from a woman looking to place their cockatiel. Although I had been involved with unwanted birds and other animals since 1990 it was always as a volunteer with the animals. I seldom had direct contact with the people surrendering the animals. Now, as the one in charge of the process I found myself unprepared and surprised at the reasons for surrender. This little bird was a pet for her children, who soon lost interest, and had therefore lived out her usefulness as a pet. Her fate was further compounded by the fact that she had untreated Giardiasis (parasitic infection of the lining of the intestine by Giardia, a protozoan) and was constantly picking her back bloody from the horrible itching. The woman did not tell me she had Giardia; in fact, she would have had no way of knowing as it never occurred to her to have her pet seen by a veterinarian. She did tell me she had a feather picking problem and they were frustrated with the situation. The frustration did not extend to spending any money on her though.

     When I saw the little Lutino I was shocked. She had a cheery and friendly disposition but was in horrible physical shape. I can best describe her back by saying it looked like raw hamburger meat. Her entire back, from underneath her wing to her abdomen was bloody and raw. I stared at the woman, shocked. She had certainly been pleasant enough on the phone, and she appeared to be a nice woman, wasn’t rude or otherwise obnoxious to me. She didn’t seem stupid or uncaring. And yet it never occurred to her to take this bird, which was clearly suffering and miserable, to an avian veterinarian. Her only effort to treat the bird was the purchase of a feather picking spray and when I read the ingredients I cringed. The main ingredient was isopropyl alcohol. She had been liberally spraying this on the bird’s raw back, causing even more pain. She was unwilling to give me any money for taking her in, which of course was not surprising, since she hadn’t been willing to spend anything on her care up to this point. I knew it was going to be costly surrender, but there was no hesitation on my part to take the bird and get her some vet care.

     I immediately took her in to our veterinarian, Dr. Baillie at Cedar Pet Clinic. I was not hopeful, but he felt he could treat the Giardia. In addition to the medication, he performed acupuncture treatments around her wound. I brought her in every week for several months for the treatments, which he generously donated to me. She also received immune system booster shots. Slowly her wound healed, and she seemed to get some relief from the terrible itching.

     Treating Giardia, though, can be very tough on a bird’s system and Magic wasn’t healthy to begin with. She became gravely ill with liver disease. Her liver enlarged to the point that she limped, because it was pressing on her leg nerve. I sadly thought that despite our best efforts, this sweet little bird was going to die.  

$50,000

     The holidays flew by with lightening speed; a month or more of planning and then Christmas is over. I am seeing promos for the next American Idol season which means Spring is just around the corner! As the weeks progress from ‘Hollywood Week’ down to the final top ten I know we are getting closer and closer to being outside enjoying our fabulous Spring weather, those elusive few weeks between snow and mosquitoes. American Idol is much less fun without the deliciously dysfunctional ramblings of Paula Abdul and so like last year I probably won’t be watching much this year and will have to find another mindless escape when I need a break. I am not much of a TV viewer anyway, but do love the occasional train wreck. When I remember to tune in, currently that would be the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I can’t help it. There is something so appalling and yet mesmerizing watching someone plan and throw a $50,000 birthday party for a four year old. A four year old that was so overwhelmed she spent the party hiding. A four year old that would have been happy with a cheese pizza, a cake, and a puppy. She received a diamond necklace from her mother,(what every four year desires) and a puppy from her father which shortly thereafter was rehomed as it was purchased against the wishes of the tanned silicone bloated Barbie masquerading as a parent. Of course, the official reason was allergies.

     $50,000 would change my life; it would provide financial security for the rescue and allow me to move forward with the dream of building a parrot sanctuary: a safe haven for unwanted and neglected birds who through no fault of their own have had to endure all sorts of trauma because someone desired a pet. Already in this new year I was faced with a very difficult surrender situation; it is not something I am yet ready to write about, but it did confirm for me that my choice to do what I can to help unwanted pet birds is truly the right path for my life. It is a financial struggle to keep going, and often times a bit overwhelming. But the need is so real, and seems to be getting bigger all the time as traditional shelters face closing down from lack of donations and an over abundance of unwanted animals. I have met more than one person who has adopted an animal from a ‘high kill’ shelter down South. It is the latest “in thing”; and allows the owner to tell a glowing tale of rescuing a cat or a dog from certain death. Whenever I run into someone who has adopted one of these animals, they always make a point of this. “She’s a Katrina dog”, they’ll say, or “He’s from a shelter with a 95% kill rate.” And of course I am happy that these animals were saved. But the whole thing has sort of Indiana Jones element to it, as most of the time the animals are flown here by pilots with their own planes and the whole thing seems fraught with adventure and drama, with the exchange taking place in a public place such as a parking lot. The dog is whisked off to his new home and the rescuers are off to save another life.