Bird Story

Well. Lulu died this morning.

Turns out the things I thought were special preparing for motherhood behaviors were actually very sick finch behaviors. She's not even my bird. Wasn't, I mean. Well, isn't, depending on what he did with her tiny birdbody. I kept finding myself saying "our bird" in describing her, though.

She looked like this. thanks to the picture taker. My camera phone didn't do so well in the low light through the bars of the cage.

He, her owner my roommate the Catholic, bought her and her partner Joey (who for many weeks was of indeterminate biological sex) to cheer himself up after breaking up with someone. He just showed up with these two tiny birds a few months ago, and asked me to help name them, so I did - Joey and Lulu. Then he gave them last names, the last names of some "little saints," although I've never heard of them.

And of course I quickly grew quite fond of them, they're very sweet and mild. Their little chirps and songs are endearing and quiet, very unobtrusive. Then usually in the morning, once or twice, there would be this weird two-tone stressed out call, and a few times I looked over when that happened and he was trying to mount her...

So she laid an egg a few days ago, but I guess the environment wasn't quite right for her to nest, and she just dropped it on the bottom of the cage and it broke. Then apparently she was trying to lay another egg for 36 hours at least, and the Catholic said that when he came home late last night she was sitting on the nest trying to lay, but by the time I got up at 7 she had fallen to the floor of the cage. She just couldn't handle it, I guess it's called being "egg-bound" and happens to finchese because they're just so tiny.

She was so light when I picked her up, like nothing. Poor love. I wish it hadn't been so difficult these past few days. Now Joey is sitting and singing from his cage, probably wondering what the fuck is going on. A widower, and so young too.