Nightmare on My Street

It was cold and dark.  I had just pulled into my driveway after work and a quick trip to the grocery when I was accosted by my birds' daddy, Kevin, who was borderline hysterical uttering a phrase I never thought I'd hear, "Gigi got loose."

Gigi is our Nanday conure, our first bird, the love of our lives.  We love all of our birds dearly, but Gigi holds a special place in our hearts for so many reasons.   She is a friend to all - people and birds. There's not a soul she doesn't love.  She has been fighting a terrible affliction that affects both of her feet, and she takes it in stride, always cheerful, always sweet.

That late afternoon, Kevin had taken her to our vet for another of many checks on her feet.  She had been snuggled into his chest on the drive home and didn't want to go back in her cage for the walk from the car to the front door. He had succumbed to her sweetness and didn't make her.  It was about 6:00, and night had fallen. It was 18 degrees outside.

Something spooked her, he stupidly didn't have a good hold on her, and she flew away, over the garage and into the back yard.

She is not clipped. The vet and we agreed that to clip her would add unnecessary stress to her already stressed out self a a result of her foot condition and her melange of medications.   Plus I'm just not keen on clipping. (You can all criticize if you choose, but I've read plenty about the clip / no-clip debate, and despite the risk, I remain unkeen on clipping.)

After she passed over the garage and around the back of the house, he lost sight of her.  We have a large backyard surrounded by lots of trees. We were hoping she gort caught up in them, and missed the few openings that could lead her just about anywhere.

I was in shock, in panic and eventually in agony.  We manned flashlights and started looking and calling.  But I knew it was near hopeless in the dark with Gigi.  Gigi has an endearing, but in this case, utterly frustrating behavior.  She doesn't make a peep in the dark, except a charming whisper, barely audible unless she's nestled in right against your ear.  We called and looked near and far until 1:00 am.  Nothing. I knew our only hope was daybreak, and if she had heard us and the other birds from inside that night, she may stay close.

I was having intermittent nervous breakdowns.  I can't even explain the feelings, the heartbreak, the hopelessness, the anger at Kev. She's my kid, and I couldn't imagine her out there cold and scared.  It was beyond awful.

I think of myself as a spiritual person, but not a religious one.  I pray, but not often or regularly. 
But I prayed, I bargained, like I never had prayed or bargained before.  I had horrible thoughts.  I felt guilty for being inside and warm.

Oddly, in the winks of sleep I got, I dreamt of reunion, not of not finding her. I dreamt she came flying to me. 

Ok, so you may be thinking "what melodrama." But I don't give a crap. This was one of, if not the, worst days of my life.

We got out of bed at 5:30.The night had crept along at a snail's pace, and it was still creeping.  A friend had told us the sun was coming up at about 6:30 am.  We were back outside calling at 5:30, but it was still dark, so still nothing.  We checked the Weather Channel for the sunrise time. It said 7:15, and I about screamed.  It was supposed to be 6:30.  That 45 minutes was just stupidly slow. 

At 7:00 the light was showing. I was outside the minute I saw any signs of day. I called, and thought I heard a bird (it was a wild bird), so I started towards the sound, who knows why. It wasn't her.  But I called again, and my ears heard her. 

She squawked.  There she was.  Kevin was just coming out of the house, and he heard her too.  She was in the trees and shrubs somewhere on the border between our house and the neighbor behind us.

We called, she squawked back.  Kev got to her first, and saw her perched deep inside about 8 feet up in this rather inhospitable tall shrub / tree.  I got there shortly afterwards, and stood under her while he went to fetch the ladder. 

He got back and went up and grabbed her sweet little heiney right off a rather jaggedy limb and handed her right over to me.  I was elated, shocked, thrilled and incredibly grateful.  And she was clearly happy.

Surprisingly, her body didn't feel cold.  Her feet were chilly and a bit scraped and nicked, likley from both the tree and her biting at them since she hadn't had her meds the night before.  But she was alive and relatively well.  We called the vet, and he felt he didn't need to see her. She was already on antibiotics for her feet, so if she were to catch cold that was a built-in preventative I guess.

But she was alive and the 13-hour nightmare on my street was over.

Here's my sweet baby girl (pre-foot affliction)

Birdie Byte
Barbara Heidenreich has just released a DVD called Get Your Bird Back, and I hadn't bought it in time.  And if your bird is lost, it'll be too late to order the DVD.  I haven't seen it yet, but  I bet it's great and something every bird owner should have on hand.

So better safe than sorry.  Get your copy now, so you'll have it if you need it.