And Nature Carries On...

Our little birdie died yesterday. I knew it wasn't going to be good when I came downstairs to feed him and he had gotten himself into the same position his sibling had gotten into before he died. Carefully using a plastic pen (not the pen end), I manuevered him back into a better position for him to breathe. I tried to feed him some of the food we made (following instructions found on the Internet), but he wouldn't open his mouth. I burst into tears. Matt came downstairs and took a look. We then did something we should have done before, but hadn't thought of it because it had been so warm the past day. We got out the heating pad and turned it on low, placing the pail at an angle on towels on top of it. Matt was able to feed him a little then. We kept checking on him, and Matt tried to feed him a few times, but it wasn't good. Around noon, Matt checked in on our little guy and turned toward me with a sad face, "I think he's gone." Of course I bawled. Matt buried him next to the other bird that died on Friday, marking it with a stone.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the birdie hadn't seemed to be doing so much better yesterday. He was sitting up, taking nourishment, and he even made some squeaking noises for Matt when he fed him. I even dreamt that he had gotten so much better, fluffed out, and we were able to get him to the Jamestown Audubon Society for further care. Matt thought he was sick all along, but I still felt like we didn't do enough for him in some ways. I do feel good about bringing him in at least and not leaving him on the ground where the bugs had started to bother him. I'm still sad about it though.