The Final Flight.
Julie, the cockatiel, died this morning at 8:30am EST. The time was nigh for this bird, considering he was almost 20, I think. My mom was telling me how he was acting over the past week, and it was pretty tragic. He was being aloof, and had a really difficult time staying awake. He was also starting to lose his feathers, even though birds don't molt at this time of year. This morning he was perched on top of the back of a chair next to the radiator, as he was trying to stay warm, and he was acting really ill. Suddenly, strangely, he seemed to perk up: He chirped once, normally, and flew into the other room. My mom went to look for him but he was nowhere to be found. My mom found Julie splayed on the floor still alive, but really close to death. So Mom picked him up and folded his wings back properly. Julie looked up at my mom and closed his eyes and died in her hands.
From archive
From archive
From archive
From archive
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From archive
From archive
From archive
From archive
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