This morning I woke up, and things were fine. However, Ollie was on the lower rope perch so I went over to investigate. I had him step up - usually he'd fly away. I thought it a bit odd, but maybe just an effect of the millet training. He growled at me a bit with low 'ack ack's', and I placed him on a higher perch. Then went to get ready for school.
Like I usually do, I went up to check on them before I left, and my mother, who was sick. He was... In the corner of the cage, not moving.
I thought he was dead. I thought of his weird behavior, and so went over with a heavy heart.
He wasn't dead, but he was definitely not in good shape. I was able to get him to step up, but he was weak and hunched over. I placed him on a perch and by now was crying, and so I called my father who suggested calling the vet. I ran to get a phonebook, and he was on the bottom of the cage again.
I picked him up and I just knew there was nothing I could do for him. Even if I had rushed him to the vet, there was no saving him. So I snuggled him down in some fleece on the floor and sat next to him, stroking his head and talking to him while Pickles chirped. He lived about ten minutes after this, but he didn't move or even try to. He convulsed a little and then he was gone.
Ollie was my first bird. I got him five years ago. He was an adult when I got him - white irises and blue cere. He could have been anywhere from six and up, and he wasn't sick. (I watch like a hawk.) I loved him dearly, though he never was terribly tame, he'd do anything for some millet. He was a good father, and raised two clutches with his mate, Star.
I guess he flies free now. With Star and his two babies Snowflake and Blue. And he went fairly peacefully, considering. I just wish I could have done more.
Bye baby boy. Pickles misses you too.
(They were trying to sleep in this picture, but kept arguing with one another and waking up. Ollie's the darker one.)