By Max Bird
I believe Ojo’s readers would like to hear about my experience with near death. Also, my article will serve to keep bird lovers on the lookout for early warning signs of illness.
I am a pneumonia survivor. Not many parrots can tell you this, as we drop dead rather quickly. I thank Francisco, who noticed I was breathing only through my mouth. He quickly noticed my greeting, “How Are You?” came out sounding more like, “Howa Tu?” Jani immediately contacted her Facebook friends. On their expert advice we were directed to Doctor Pepe Magana in San Antonio. After scratching his head, he pulls out this syringe, as long as the tail on an elephant. I think perhaps it is a joke, but it isn’t.
“Keep Max’s wings pinned behind him as you flip him upside down on your chest. Cover his face with your hand while keeping his beak clamped shut,” Dr. Pepe told Francisco. The needle must have been sharp. When it went into my breast, it felt like little more than a prick.
“The syringe has measured amounts for three more daily injections of antibiotic… Do you have someone at home who can hold him down for the other shots?”
My next shot came on the following day. Jani pinned my back flat against the bony area between her breasts, my wings folded under. (If I had not known better, I would have thought it erotic.) Tense, like sticks, my legs thrust outward. Like tiny antennas, my claws stretched for the heavens. But, Francisco forgot to tell Jani to hold my beak shut. That she got bit was just a reflex reaction as the needle went in. It was not a conscious act, I can assure you. And, the bite only hurt Jani until the swelling went down.
I am better now, although in molt. And my impulses are in check. Come visit us, Ojo reader, and I will give you a kiss.
Max Bird, Public Relations Specialist