The day after one of my oldest and best parakeet hens died, a new baby hatched. Taffy took over the mothering duties and raised nearly 30 babies in my aviary, most not her own. She was protective and attentive. She liked fresh strawberries and cilantro best. Taffy was a hopper, which meant she could not fly. People who don't want their birds to fly away, often snip off feathers that don't grow back well. Essentially, they take away a big part of their birdness. That said, I tried to give Taffy a good, uncaged life. Her partner, Xero, also a hopper, keeps hopping around looking for her. It's kind of sad.
I buried Taffy in the backyard in a flower garden where I've buried, over the years, other birds from my aviary.
Otis wasn't terribly torn up. He walked over and pecked my foot, as he often does, to let me know, "Hey, a-hole. More seeds."
If a bird could wear little cool-guy sunglasses, that would be Otis. Sky blue and cloud-white Otis.
#FB00710
