On Sunday night I had a disturbing dream. I dreamed that my son was in a hospital in Toronto: he’d had a car accident, and I urgently needed to get to him, but I kept forgetting. I kept getting distracted and remembering later and feeling horrible about forgetting, and then forgetting again. I think my subconscious was trying to tell me I was neglecting something I cared about.
That was the night before my last two budgies died. Tango died several days after the move, of a tumor under her wing. The other two, Jazz and Blues, died yesterday.
I normally fill up their seed cups when they’re getting low, usually about twice a week. I checked the cups on Saturday night on my way to bed. In the semi-darkness, through the fog of cough syrup grogginess, the cups looked about half full. I gave them fresh water and went to bed.
Sunday I didn’t check, but at some point in the night, during a coughing fit, I heard them scratching for seeds on the floor of their cage. I remember feeling a pang of guilt and thinking I’d feed them in the morning. Monday morning I didn’t hear the alarm clock and woke up late and tired and coughing and I was scrambling to get ready to work and walk the dog, and I forgot to feed them. I didn’t remember until that night; then I went in to feed them and was horrified to find them both dead on the floor of the cage.
Budgies starve within 24 to 48 hours of not eating. Their seed dishes can look like they’re half full, but just have seed husks left in them. The thing is, I KNEW that. I’ve known it since I was nine years old, when my first budgie, Little Joe, died.
When I lived in the apartment, I kept the bird cage in the living room, and I passed it dozens of times a day, so I was much more in tune with the birds. When I moved to the house, I put the birds in the cheery yellow room, with the mannequins and dolls. I should have kept them downstairs where I’d see them and interact with them regularly.
Poor little things didn’t ask for much in life, just a little food and water.
I feel so guilty and ashamed of myself and sad. I really liked them; how could I neglect to feed them?
This is horrible. I suppose there is a sad lesson in all of this, and most of us, thankfully, don’t have anything quite so dramatic to have to deal with. Is it a warning about getting so busy in life that you overlook the simple, but most important, things. I guess the question now is, will you replace these birds? At least you’re not hiding the story, that’s a good sign.
This is tough. Good luck!. Hope you’ll feel better soon! The current round of colds is pretty widespread and longlasting.
Oh my, sorry to hear that!
Please, don’t forget to feed yourself
Take care!!
Suzy; I am so sorry. I know how much you cared about those birds. We all remember the effort that you went to, when the psycho bought them from you, to get them back. Why don’t birds yell loudly when they are hungry to let you know? Don’t blame yourself…you were sick and unable to care for them.
Conch – I’m glad you dropped by. I don’t think I’ll get new birds…I feel like an unfit bird parent. However I didn’t throw away the bird cage on garbage day, so maybe I’m leaving the door open to some future possibility of more birds. (Or maybe another budgie will fly into my house, looking for a home, which is how I acquired Blues a few years ago.)
Gillian and Dakota – I’m still sick, but the doctor prescribed codeine cough syrup yesterday, so I got a good night’s sleep last night.
Deb, thanks for calling the other night. They were probably too weak from hunger to make a lot of noise. They’ve been quiet lately anyway because of the shorter days – budgies don’t sing when it’s dark.
Oh no! Poor you, poor budgies.
C’est la vie (et la mort).
Now, I know what to get you as a housewarming present