Little Yellow Bird

My nameless little yellow budgie of 6 years died today.

Every morning, he would wake me, and I would lift the cover of his den and let the little screech owl fly free.

But he was more content hanging around the kitchen window sill with the plants, keeping an eye on all the action, watching all the outside wild birds come and go, grabbing their morning bird seed.

...when he wasn't buzzing and dive bombing my dogs head.

My effort to keep him wild was never naming him, or calling him by any name, and to go where ever he wanted.

He was the only pet I've never named. And a lovely wee cheeky bird.

He outsmarted and survived my dog who caught him on two separate occasions.

Each time resulting in a dangerous loss of plumage (his pink bare bum took the longest for the feathers to grow back), but he was as good a sport about the "rag-dolling" he endured, and was as smart as he was cute.

But, tonight upon arriving in from work.....there was no usual wing-pointing as he conveyed all the things he saw while I was out today.

No.

Today I arrived to heart sinking silence and instant ~ knowing. I could feel the void.

Confirmed by the way my typically wild dog usually greets me, today there was I-need-a-hug in his behaviour, that told me something was wrong with his squawking hawk house buddy today.

I found my budgie, not budging [it had to be said] on the floor of his wide open den.


It may sound silly, but it's astonishing how much life even the smallest of creatures, fills your heart and life with.

I will miss the my nameless little yellow bird.


Perhaps these silly sentimental tears are because he is free

and I am not.


To live with life is to live with loss.


But what a lovely life that little bird was.