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Friday, June 29, 2007
For Ellie And so brings about the end of an era. It may not have been a colossal time of change and great things, but it opened my eyes to a thing or two. That's Ellie, the first month in her new home. Terrified and frazzled. She was a mess. I couldn't even open the cage without her flapping around like a mess and creating a storm within the cage. All day long, she'd just sit there. See that shoelace? It was supposed to be her toy. She never once touched it. Six months down the track, the shoelace still remained untouched, but at least she was moving around, doing bird gymnastics by squeezing through those metal bars and doing flips between her legs. She's a funny girl. She gradually warmed up, and even though I still never garnered the guts to reach in and grab her, lest I frighten her tiny heart, she allowed me to stroke her as she perched on her food bowl eating. Thanks to Ling, who kickstarted the 'Stroke Ellie' movement. Within a week, she went from staying a good 4 inches away from my outstretched finger, to one inch, to pecking me when I stroked her, to just ignoring me while I stroked her gingerly with my index finger. She was one gentle bird. And now she lies in a shoebox, padded with tissues, and a makeshift pillow. Thanks to Aden's genius skills with bird coffin arrangement. He should seriously consider a career change. We pondered on what to do with her. To bury her was on the top of our minds, but it was cold, wet, dark, and late. And we were both buggered. Plus, there's nothing more depressing than the 'thud thud' of earth being shoveled. 'What about putting her in a shoebox and letting her float out to sea?' Well, it seemed like a good idea, but then the image of a clueless beachcomber, passing by a shoebox, going 'Oooh, what's this?', and being met with a possibly olfactory assaulting shoebox seemed hilarious, and innocently cruel. Besides, the waves would only bring her back to shore. Luckily I live near the Yarra river. So we drove down by the river, lit by the full moon and her reflection in the calm serene water, and the lights of the towering buildings of the CBD in the horizon and their reflections, and bathed in a luxurious silence, broken only by the sounds of the few cars passing in the still of the cold winter night. We gently eased Ellie into the river while she floated along silently into her final resting place. It was a poetic moment, surreal and dreamlike. Two grown adults walking along a gentle river, shoebox in hand. Setting it on the water and watching silently as the box floated ever so peacefully along.I toyed with the idea of watching it disappear into the horizon, but that would have take 5hrs, judging from the speed of the river. We watched as she floated into the middle of the river, flanked by the reflections of two of the tallest buildings, and my mind registered a silent moment for Ellie. My last image of her is silently poetical and peaceful, and lives only in my mind. The symmetry and grace of the image stays with me. That will be poetic proof that she truly is in a better place; Bird heaven, where winters aren't freezing cold, and no one leaves poor budgies out in back alleys all alone. Rest in Peace, my fair little avian friend.
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