A LITTLE BIRD TOLD ME

In May of 1998, we found a cockatiel we thought belonged to Will's science teacher. Because I had heard the bird was lost, I went out looking for him with my binoculars. Upon realizing how much ground a bird could cover in one short flight, I opted to let the animal control officer know we were searching. Got a call and picked the bird up to stay with us until I could return him to his owner at Will's middle school. When we brought the bird to the school after bonding with him for the weekend, Mr. Clinton told us this cockatiel was not his Petey. As it was not his bird, he didn't really care to take it. This bird had landed on the shoulder of a fireman across town from us. He looked like Pete, so the school kept him until the end of the year.  That is how, in June of 1998, we came to be the owners of Tico. As a children's librarian, I loved reading the book "Tico and The Golden Wings" to my boys and to other kids. But when I told Will about his very first sentence...that is what moved him to name the cockatiel, Tico. When Will was about 18 months, we visited family in N.H. Aunt Emmy had a bird...a parrot...named Tico. Will was fascinated and wanted to touch. He got to hold Tico and all, but Tico did bite his little finger and Will spoke his first sentence. "Tico bite. Tico bite me." I can hear his little voice in my ear. My now sixth grader declared he wanted to name our cockatiel Tico. So we did.
     I marvel at how we make choices based on partial information. We make the best choice we can, given what we know. When we decided to take Tico in, we didn't know his age or anything about his past life. When I took him to the vet to get a wing clipped, I knew I was doing the best thing for Tico because it would allow him to bond without flying out an open door. And young children are notorious for leaving doors open. Little did I know that I was making a choice that would forever affect my relationship with him. From that vet visit on....for 18 years, Tico didn't like me. He never forgave me for holding him while the vet clipped his wing. Despite the fact that I was the human that fed him, provided water and toys and a clean cage and free ranging time around the house...Tico was always after my fingers. He loved Stephen and as the boys became men, he loved them too. He seemed like a mans' bird ...comfortable on a tall guy's head or shoulders...snuggling or showering with them, repeating musical phrases...lots of happy interaction. Stephen taught his the 1812 Overture with a vibrato that Tico imitated perfectly. He also did the wolf whistle and could imitate a truck backing up. I was Tico's slave. The guys were his choice company.
   What can I say? I felt the sting of rejection and sometimes I wondered why he never learned to trust me. All I can figure is we got off on the wrong wing. Who would have guessed that Tico would live through 3 house moves and act as our bird translator, attracting wild birds to our feeders and windows with his enthusiastic songs. He was a musical fellow and a great audience for Stephen playing ditties on the piano. He often sat on Stephen's shoulders or on the music shelf on the piano. And many times he sang along. Tico was mean to me. But I loved his cheery songs and his adorable orange cheeks. His presence made me happy and I cared for him anyway.
   Tico watched over our move from Massachusetts to Maine in 2000. We left a life behind in Massachusetts to start a new one in Maine. Like Tico, we had 2 lives ...a then and a now. I was plagued with feeling imprisoned by our lifestyle in Marblehead. Our move to Maine and the great expanse of wilderness was a flight of sorts. I wanted desperately to live in a more rural environment with a daily connection to wildlife. In Mass. I had to drive places to find green spaces to spend time with my growing boys. Moving to Maine was my childhood dream come true. This is our 16th winter. Tico died a few days ago.
     The day Tico died, I had a guidance. Grace told me something was odd with Tico by her gentleness of approach. Usually Grace was Tico's stalker and sometimes she was a bit rough. But this time, she'd come crying to us to come see Tico. He was hiding places he never went before. And when he flew, he hit walls he knew perfectly well. I was moved to take pictures of him...and before we left for a friend's house, I picked him up. He burrowed into my breast. He snuggled me and put forth his head for me to scratch. He was sweet, affectionate and he seemed weak. I sensed his transition. There was something in his sweet communication without words that told me...I forgive.
Tico was forgiving me and somehow I heard it. There were no words. No displays of emotion ...not even any notes of song... just his gentle approach for comfort and warmth and his lingering on my breast. And when we got home from our visit and I found him lying belly up on the bottom of his cage, I was sad I had not stayed home with him. I thought of my sister dying in a hospital room alone. I thought of my Dad slipping out in the middle of the night when he was alone. I thought of Sadie being run over by a car and dying alone on the street. I wondered about my belief that dying alone is a terrible thing.
    I realized I have lost several beloved family members and felt guilt for not being beside them the moment of their departure. My distance from my mother who is now in a nursing home is a constant battle with guilt. I stress over the inner argument with myself around visiting versus letting go. I fear the possibility that I won't be with her when she goes. Somehow I felt Tico's forgiveness...and that led to the realization of the need to forgive myself...that perhaps meeting your maker alone isn't the worst thing in the world. So...forgiven by Tico, I forgive myself. The flies free on golden wings and his departure marks a new era. How do I know? A little bird told me.