When Birds Die

Our deformed dove, Flappy died today. 

He was such a trooper.  He would scrabble around, flapping his wings trying to get from one place to the next.  One leg was straight out in back of him and the other was curled under him.  He had that since birth and we only noticed it when he was big enough to come out of the nest.  He at first seemed able to get around and he flapped up to the water and food dish, but we knew we would have to have a separate cage for him because the mom and dad got anxious, when there were too many birds around. 

It was really, really sad.  I think he lived his whole life in fear.  For about a month before his death, I would take him out at night and just kind of hang with him, wrapped in a towel.  It was like Tuesday's with Morrie.  He was this brave bird, this little flapping thing with no use except to be loved.  I felt that I got the most out of the relationship, though...  he showed me courage to be disabled in a changing world.  To live life even though everything about you is completely wrong and you don't have a chance. 

Good job in life, Flappy.