Speaking of birds….
Every now and then, Mom would relent and allow us to get a pet other than a dog. I’m not sure the circumstances, but about the same time as Charlie, the Mynah Bird, we happened to have a little parakeet, name unknown, or at least un-remembered. For storytelling purposes, I’ll call him Birdy. My brother, Chuck, was just a little guy and Mom had a sweet spot for him, so that’s probably how we came to have the bird.
Birdy was tame enough to get out of his cage and sit on a shoulder or head, and we could pet and love on him, but he was tremendously afraid of the dog. Somehow, this particular day, Birdy was riding around on Chuck’s shoulder when the dog, who actually paid no attention to Birdy normally, got in the house. Birdy freaked out and began to fly all over the room, squawking, flapping wings frantically, banging into things and hitting window panes in a panic, which did, at that point, draw the attention of the dog. Soon enough we had a crazy flapping bird, a barking dog, screaming kids, a sobbing toddler, and Mom, who I’m sure would have preferred to just open the door and boot the entire noisy mess outside.
Being 15 years old, I was smart enough to know that the little parakeet was going to stroke out and flap a final wing if we didn’t get him cornered and calmed down. We finally shooed out all but Birdy and I managed to coax him down from his temporary curtain rod perch onto my finger.
I could tell from his tiny heaving chest that the fiasco had likely been too much for his dot-sized heart and he wasn’t long for this world. No amount of coaxing, petting or soft cooing was going to fix what ailed him now. But I couldn’t bear the sad, little, tear-stained face begging big sister to do something, so I gently put Birdy back inside his cage, propped him up on his perch and hoped for the best.
Unfortunately, just as I expected, the little bird rolled off the perch and settled onto the bottom of his cage in the prone position, belly up, feet stuck straight out in front. This, of course, resulted in a fresh bout of hysterical crying from Chuck, which in turn caused me to cry, grab up Birdy and perform my greatest act of sisterly heroism to date!
I carefully cradled Birdy in the palm of my hand and begin to administer CPR on the damn thing! I cautiously pressed gently on his tiny chest, and actually tried to blow into his teeny beak nose holes…all under the intense, watery stare of a trusting 3 year old who believed his big sister could do anything.
The ungrateful bird responded to my tender care by slowly pulling his feet to his chest, curling his toes in, shutting his little beady eyes and winging his tiny soul to the great parakeet heaven in the sky.
What followed was a great blubberfest for all involved, ending with a very nice funeral service, complete with the body dressed in fashionable paper towel, laid out in a perfect-sized shoebox, a procession to the back corner of the yard, and at least one full verse and chorus of Amazing Grace!
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