I will remember Bilbo on the deck rail, snug under the branches of the red bud happily mimmicking bird calls. He was never eager to converse with me or other humans, nor did he escape his cage although I frequently left his door open. But he was a vivid blue spot of energy in my day, ringing his many bells to bring me back to NOW. It was a week ago that I found him on the bottom of his cage, his plumage spotless as he'd just finished molting. His appetite hadn't changed, but his stool was loose (i think stool is the wrong word here - but je ne sais pas!). Katrina's marking of Bilbo's demise seems to be the capture of a titmouse yesterday. There is now such a blank space on the wall where his cage hung! But I don't want a new bird. Not yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment