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My sister noticed that Ferdy wasn't on his usual perch after lunch, and called me over when she discovered that he was lying at the bottom of the cage.
He was cold when I picked him up, and his head flopped to one side. His eyes were covered with seed shells, and when I wiped them off, they were blank and sunken. His wings were stiff, and the breast unmoving.
Shock, then anger.
Ferdy was cute and lovable. We all loved the little thing. So why him, and not Nibble? She had forgotten how to fly and always bit us when we tried to play with her.
Sadness.
My dad put him in a plastic bag, and we put him in a leftover christmas giftbox along with several wrapping paper cranes. We buried him next to the shed, and used a flat rock as a marker, then burned incense for him. Like we do for every pet that's been buried there.
Our excuse was that we weren't at home for the past three days, so we couldn't take care of them. And then I wanted to blame my mom for not taking care of them when she was at home all the time.
Six years ago, I named him after my history report on Ferdinand Magellen. We had to slide him out of the box to get him in the cage since he kept biting us. Raising him was... wonderful. We adored his antics, loved the way he'd climb up our fingers, shoulders, and heads, and laugh at how my uncle got pooped on once we placed Ferdy on his hand. When we had time, we would take him out of the cage to show him around the house while we stood in his little bird swing. When we were too busy to play, he'd perch on a lamp and watch us do homework, or eat our house plants to the stem. I used to take naps after school with him snuggled in the covers right next to me, and I'd tell him about my day while he chewed on my pillow. He would touch his beak to our cheeks as we returned him to the cage, as if saying thanks.
It probably wasn't all to fun for him though. We'd chase him around the house with badminton rackets to get him off the curtains. I remember shutting him the fridge for a few minutes when he wouldn't stop chirping, and Alex and I almost sunk him in the fish pond once.
But really, the only person to blame is me. If I had only woken up earlier, stayed awake longer, paid more attention, I would have noticed that they were running low on food. I would have known that they needed more seed to sustain themselves since the house was so cold. My laziness has made me a wreck. And because of it, I ended up neglecting the birds. Ferdy didn't run out of food, no, I starved him to death. I hate myself all the more because of this.
If only we could go back in time, then we could correct the mistakes we make, before they happen.
I don't want anything like this to happen ever again.
 pinkjingling · Tue Jan 16, 2007 @ 07:14am · 0 Comments |
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