Goodbye, My Warrior Queen

It’s such a solemn day, and it shouldn’t be.  I should be excited, as I usually am on the eve of Christmas – my favourite holiday.  But instead, I’m sitting here mourning the loss of my dear bird, my friend, my warrior queen.

Named Boudicea for the Celtic warrior queen who was so fearless she took on the Roman legions and nearly succeeded in pushing them out of Britannia.  Like her, my little baby was fearless.  When my older bird, Nero, first met her, he would chase her around the house in an attempt to peck at her banding.  Her wings were badly butchered by the inept pet store worker who had decided to clip them, but it never daunted her in her attempts to fly away or fight back against her antagonizer, Nero (so named for the loopy Roman emperor).

I received a call at work today, at 8:30 am, from my husband telling me that our daughter found her lying on the floor of the cage this morning, weak and sleeping.  They were taking her to the vet.  A few hours later at 10:30 am, he called me again to say the regular vet wasn’t available but had recommended another who felt she was fine – perhaps had been startled, but she was fine.  I arrived home at 12:45 and picked her up in a soft washcloth, cradling her close as she looked up at me with those big eyes.  I shushed her and held her for a few moments, and laid her back in the cage on her cloth.  Pushing the cloth down from around her face, so that she could see, I watched her take two deep breaths.  And she died.

I fell to my knees and wept and I cry still as I write this.  I loved her so much, and miss her greatly.  I watch her buddy Nero and he keeps looking for her, calling out for her with a tweet.  The other birds are quiet, listening and waiting for their queen to return.  And I am at a loss.