It breaks my heart to write this, but we lost our cockatiel, Cody, a couple days ago, and it's my fault.
I never liked the idea of clipping our bird's wingtips. I always thought she (yes, a 'she' named Cody, we thought she was a he, but DNA proved us wrong) would be better off if we let her fly. Birds were meant to fly, and if Cody had the freedom to fly from one cage to another (we had two set up for her), the happier she would be. I thought I could train her to fly back to her cage using millet. I was really, really wrong.
One day, while I was cleaning one of her cages outside, I had Cody perched on her second cage in the foyer. My wife walked in the house and must have spooked her. She flew out the door before anyone could react. Her speed was astonishing. Before we knew it, she was over the houses next door and climbing out of sight.
I knew that if I got close to where she went, I could whistle to her and she would whistle back at me. Knowing I would never hear her from my truck, I hopped on my bike and canvased the neighborhood, whistling for her. We found her in someone's backyard tree not too far from our house. We attempted to get her down, but she had flown away.
Two more times, I had tracked her down on my bike and tried coaxing her down using food and millet. Both times, she decided to fly away to another location. After the third tree, it had gotten too dark to track her anymore. Reluctantly I had to give up the search for the day.
That night, temperatures had gotten down to the fifties with rain. I wasn't sure how Cody would have faired, but the next morning I got on my bike and tried finding her. Miraculously, I found her in our community park, perched on top of the highest tree. She seemed in good spirits, but did not want to come down. After about an hour, another bird spooked her and she once again flew away. That was the last I've seen of Cody.
The second day after her disappearance, I once again canvased the neighborhood on my bike to find a gruesome discovery. A bird had been hit in the middle of a nearby road. It matched her gray and yellow feathers. My heart sank. I gently pulled the bird from the road to check. It wasn't Cody. The beak was too pointy, and the yellow feathers too short. I buried the poor little guy by the side of the road.
Since then, I had to go out of town and was unable to do any more searches. Local temperatures at night have gotten down to 30 degrees, so I'm not very hopeful of Cody's survival. The cage with food and millet was left outside in the backyard, untouched.
For those of you that took that time to read this entire message, I thank you, but I have two requests. First, unless you're a real expert at taking care of these birds, I suggest trimming their wings. Yes, birds should fly, but it only takes one slip to end up in the unbearable position I'm in right now. Second, I would appreciate any prayers for me and Cody. I certainly hope she's well and happy, but I may never know and may just need to accept that. She was my best buddy for three years, and her loss has devastated me more than words can describe.
Dan
I never liked the idea of clipping our bird's wingtips. I always thought she (yes, a 'she' named Cody, we thought she was a he, but DNA proved us wrong) would be better off if we let her fly. Birds were meant to fly, and if Cody had the freedom to fly from one cage to another (we had two set up for her), the happier she would be. I thought I could train her to fly back to her cage using millet. I was really, really wrong.
One day, while I was cleaning one of her cages outside, I had Cody perched on her second cage in the foyer. My wife walked in the house and must have spooked her. She flew out the door before anyone could react. Her speed was astonishing. Before we knew it, she was over the houses next door and climbing out of sight.
I knew that if I got close to where she went, I could whistle to her and she would whistle back at me. Knowing I would never hear her from my truck, I hopped on my bike and canvased the neighborhood, whistling for her. We found her in someone's backyard tree not too far from our house. We attempted to get her down, but she had flown away.
Two more times, I had tracked her down on my bike and tried coaxing her down using food and millet. Both times, she decided to fly away to another location. After the third tree, it had gotten too dark to track her anymore. Reluctantly I had to give up the search for the day.
That night, temperatures had gotten down to the fifties with rain. I wasn't sure how Cody would have faired, but the next morning I got on my bike and tried finding her. Miraculously, I found her in our community park, perched on top of the highest tree. She seemed in good spirits, but did not want to come down. After about an hour, another bird spooked her and she once again flew away. That was the last I've seen of Cody.
The second day after her disappearance, I once again canvased the neighborhood on my bike to find a gruesome discovery. A bird had been hit in the middle of a nearby road. It matched her gray and yellow feathers. My heart sank. I gently pulled the bird from the road to check. It wasn't Cody. The beak was too pointy, and the yellow feathers too short. I buried the poor little guy by the side of the road.
Since then, I had to go out of town and was unable to do any more searches. Local temperatures at night have gotten down to 30 degrees, so I'm not very hopeful of Cody's survival. The cage with food and millet was left outside in the backyard, untouched.
For those of you that took that time to read this entire message, I thank you, but I have two requests. First, unless you're a real expert at taking care of these birds, I suggest trimming their wings. Yes, birds should fly, but it only takes one slip to end up in the unbearable position I'm in right now. Second, I would appreciate any prayers for me and Cody. I certainly hope she's well and happy, but I may never know and may just need to accept that. She was my best buddy for three years, and her loss has devastated me more than words can describe.
Dan
