It is 1996. A is a toddler now. Phillip fixed up the room
with the bars on it for us to live in pretty much
permanently.
I ’m still not allowed to leave the room, but Phillip has
been
slowly working on fencing in the backyard. He says it’s so A
and I could get some
sun. I am looking forward to that.
Mid afternoon and I
thought she was coming in with dinner. I
was surprised when
she had a
birdcage in her
hand
instead of dinner. She said a girl from work gave it to
her
because her son and daughter were not taking care of him.
I could see she was
right from the big flop of super glue the
gray-and-yellow
bird had on
the top of
his beak and
the
bare spots on
his chest where
he had plucked
out his
feathers. This told me that he was not a happy fellow. Nancy
said that it was her bird but thought that I might like to keep
it in here for a while. I
was grateful, thinking maybe I
could
teach it to
talk and then I ’d have someone else to
talk to.
to touch it.
I thought to myself
that all he needs is time
to
trust me and maybe he will grow to
like me. I had started
forming a plan almost immediately in my head, but I didn’t
voice my thoughts out loud. I asked if he had a name, and
and see if a
name fit his behavior. As the days passed I
talked to my new roommate every day. And I put my hands
by the cage,
too. The frightened cockatiel would become
very agitated each
time he saw my
hand was near
and
always backed as far
away as he could. When I put
new
food in his cage, he
would always try to bite me.
I let him
most of the
time because it
didn’t hurt too
much and I
wanted him to
know I
wasn’t afraid of him. On weekends,
when Nancy
it was warm outside and say that he needed some fresh air
and she was going to hang him up in the sunshine. I envied
his time in
the sun. Sometimes
when she came
in with
dinner I would
remind her to bring him in. Usually after he
was back inside, my
efforts to befriend the silly guy would
continue. After a few
weeks of constantly trying to get him
used to my hand, I
got brave one day and I put my
hand in
the cage. When he
tried to bite me,
I gently pushed
his
beak away and said no, no. I
did this every day and slowly
but surely after about a week I was able to have my hand in
the cage with no protesting. About this time I was starting to
call him Sergeant, or Sarge, for short. He would pace back
and forth in his cage and it reminded me for some reason
of an army sergeant. So that’s what I called him. Sarge was
a great singer;
he especially liked music
and would sing
aloud whenever he heard a
tune. I first noticed it as
I was
singing A to sleep
and couldn’t really
hear myself for the
noise of one singsong bird. He would whistle and carry on
to the radio,
too. As the days went by,
his feathers grew
back and the
glue on his
nose peeled off.
Sergeant
became much happier and would even sit on my finger.
I
would take him out of
his cage and he would march back
and forth on the floor and make me and the baby laugh and
laugh. I didn’t really want to show Nancy
Sarge to do.
I thought she
might take him
away or be
jealous. Whenever
Phillip would come
and I brought
out
Sarge, he would
be amazed at
the transformation from
angry, mean bird to proud marching, singing bird. He also
thought that I
shouldn’t make too big of a deal
about it
to
listened when
she said I
couldn’t touch the bird.
I said to
him that she
just said I
shouldn’t touch him
because he
bites, not that I
couldn’t. I didn’t want to cause
trouble and I
really wanted Nancy
proud little gray-and-yellow marching bird and hoped I could
keep him as my own, but was
too shy to ask Nancy
wished she wouldn’t take him away.
Summer came and went and fall slipped in. Nancy
taking Sergeant out as much because it was getting colder.
But one day
she came in
and said she
thought it was
warmer than usual and
would take him out for an hour or
two and bring him back.
I was watching TV and not really
paying attention. Later that day Nancy
left. I didn’t get a
chance to remind her of the bird. After I
ate
I returned to watching TV and didn’t think about Sergeant
until I was getting
ready for bed. I
noticed no cage in the
corner. I wondered
if Nancy
contacting her next door;
they always locked the
iron door
so there was no
way I
could go get him. I kept getting up
and looking out
the window as
I pulled the
towel aside.
Where were they? I
didn’t see any lights on in the
studio.
Did Phillip say he was going on a “run” tonight with Nancy
couldn’t remember if he had told me anything. I watched TV
to keep my mind from thinking the worst. I hoped Sergeant
was alright. I feared he’d
freeze if left out
for much longer.
Finally, Nancy Nancy
felt bad that
she forgot to
bring him in
earlier. She and
Phillip went to get some speed from a friend. Sarge looked
to be okay
and was whistling up a
storm. She said she
could hear him
squawking all the
way to the
front yard.
That’s how she remembered that she had forgotten to bring
him inside. After she left, I told Sarge how sorry I was that
he was left out in the dark and gave him a sprig of millet
for
a peace offering. He didn’t touch it and settled on his
perch
for sleep, so I
covered his cage with a towel. A and I
went to
sleep, too.
The next morning
I knew something
was wrong the
minute I woke up.
Every other morning I woke up to sounds
of little feet
on newspaper. Typing
on the computer
keys
reminds me of his little feet on the bottom of his cage. But
this morning I heard
nothing but silence. I sat on the side
of
the bed for a
while, not wanting to
know why I heard
no
noise from Sergeant.
I finally worked
up the courage
to
peek in the cage. I
saw my beloved marching bird dead on
the bottom of his cage. I
don’t know why, but I had to
touch
him one last time so I
put my hand in and touched him. He
was cold. I cried a
lot that day. The hardest part was waiting
for Phillip and Nancy to come in so I could tell them Sarge
had died. When Phillip finally came in, I started crying and
told him Sarge got cold and died. He at first didn’t
think it
was due to the cold but didn’t know what else it could have
been either. I didn’t
see Nancy
couldn’t face me because she thought I blamed her. I
do.
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