Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Rest in peace my beautiful Bennie

Back in February of 1992 I saw an ad in my company's online classifieds (yes, at DEC even in the 80s we had an intranet with online forums not unlike the WWW) for a wildcaught senegal parrot in need of a new home. Someone had rescued him from a relative's basement, only to discover his daughter was allergic. I found poor Barnie living alone in a mudroom, where he was treated to a blast of icy air every time anybody left or arrived. He seemed depressed -- stared into space, didn't respond to his name. Just stood there on his perch. They said he was 5-6 years old. There was no way to tell for sure; senegal eyes start out dark gray but turn yellow by age 4 or 5. Bennie's eyes were clear light yellow. Anyway, his rescuer left us alone for a few minutes and I decided to call him Bennie, short for Benedicite by Vaughn Williams, my favorite piece of choral music. I spoke to him quietly, repeating Bennie several times. His eyes seemed to brighten and he turned to look at me. I brought him home.

His first day in my home, I was holding him and nuzzled him a bit, only to draw back in shock. Something in his feathers burned my nostrils and nasal passages badly. Could it have been soot from the basement? Bennie took off and flew down the hall into the bathroom. I heard some splashing and found him in the toilet up to his neck. I retrieved him and gave him his first bath with a little dish detergent. The burning substance was mercifully washed away. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for him trying to preen with that invisible stuff on him.  But it was gone and he was none the worse for his bathroom adventure.

After I was laid off in 93, I worked out of my home for 18 months. I had a lamp that hung from the wall arching gracefully over my desk. That became Bennie's hangout; he perched there whenever I was at work. When I returned to fulltime work, Bennie started picking at his feathers. I hadn't realized how bonded he'd become to me; I was his best friend I guess. I started looking for a companion for him and lucked out quickly when a baby handfed senegal turned up at a  local small aviary. Jerry came home with me that day. The first time I put Jerry into the cage with Bennie the peace lasted almost long enough for me to cross the living room. About 10 steps tops, before a high pitched EEEEEEE!!!!! called me racing back to the cage, where I found Jerry on his back, eyes squeezed shut, squealing in terror while Bennie dragged him around by his leg. I rescued Jerry and held him to my chest, just under my chin, stroking him while we napped together. Future meetings went much better and Bennie and Jerry became bonded partners for some 17 years. He also became increasingly tame, kissing my on my lips and the tip of my nose, and quivering with pleasure when I stroked him.

Monday a week ago I came home from clinical training and was greeted by the sound of a screaming senegal. I raced to Bennie and Jerry's cage, where I found Bennie on his back, struggling to turn over and rise, with Jerry dragging him around by one leg. I rescued Bennie and held him to my chest, stroking him. A quick examination showed no injuries had been sustained. I set up his travel cage for private digs; clearly Jerry would no longer tolerate his now elderly companion. Bennie seemed quite well over the next few days; appetite good.

For 19 years, every spring, summer and fall Bennie has joined in with the outside birds, greeting each morning with his personal song of whistles, squeaks, chirps and grunts. That continued to his last day, as did his kisses on my nose and lips. And then on the evening of Good Friday, at bedtime I unexpectedly found Bennie hunched over, clutching his swing tightly, eyes squeezed shut and wings dragging. I held his bedtime peanut to him and pressed it into his beak. Where just the night before he had eaten his peanut with gusto, this night he held onto it weakly for just a moment...and then let it drop. I picked him up -- even in his weakened state he trusted me enough to release the swing and cling to my finger. And then I got my finger out from his grasp and he clutched my sweater when I held him to my chest. I  laid down in my bed holding him gently against my chest, warming him under one hand. At one point he lifted his head slightly and rested his beak on my finger. We laid together for 2 hours while I told him how much I loved him. He never opened his eyes again. At the end, he began whimpering with each breath. I whispered to him that it was ok to let go, to just let go. And as soon as I said that, he did.

Behind my house the grass yard goes just 15 feet or so before dropping off a wooded hillside. At the edge of the woods lies the remains of a terraced garden. On the slope above the stone wall is a rectangle of daffodils and crocuses. The crocuses were just finishing the bloom and the daffodils had just bloomed the weekend before Bennie died. He now lies in the center of the rectangle with a special rock that once marked the top of my  perennial labyrinth garden now marking his grave.

Godspeed my beautiful Benedicite. You were a true blessing in my life. I listen to the birds in the early morning now and I still hear your voice. Rest in peace.