>> |
04/21/10(Wed)12:31:46 No.8497241 File1271867506.jpg-(47
KB, 604x453, sirius.jpg)
I really love birds. Dunno why,
or when it really started. Just one day I kinda started studying
songbirds from a field guide and less than a month later I had taken
photographs off every bird in my area and could ramble off facts about
any bird that flew by. Eventually, not being able to find a job for
forever, my mother bought me two parrotlets, birds I had wanted for
almost as long as I had birds. A male and a female. I had them for about
two years, and I spent time with them everyday.
My birds had
just got done having a clutch of babies, I hand-raised them and I had
just sold all of the babies like a week before. Then the male got sick.
800$ in vet bills later and he's still sick. I had to give him
medication orally every day, which involved grabbing him, which he
hated, and forcing the medicine down this throat with a plastic syringe,
which anyone would've hated... but it was making him better.
I
opened his cage to give him his first round of medication at 6AM like I
did everyday, and he flew out of his cage before I could get in to grab
him, because he knew what was coming. Since he was sick, he was
disorientated, and long story short, flew into a wall and suffered a
closed-head injury.
Before I knew what happened, I had just saw
that he was hurt and dying. I tried to give him CPR because I had no
idea what the fuck to do, but then I realized that I was probably just
making him uncomfortable so I just held him until he died. The whole
time his mate was dead silent, and shes' never like that. I turned
around to show her that he had died and she just kinda looked at me like
she already knew. |