Amygdala’s and Mango

Nobody Knows—

What is it about birds and why do I love them so much? They eat, they fly around, they chatter, they sing….they sleep. They stretch their wings when you go over to their cage to say hello to you. I don’t know how many times I have reported on this blog about one of my parakeets dying…I told my self I was NOT going to do it again. But, something inside on me wants to report to the rest of the world, that on this vast earth, with millions of people dying…soldiers, parents, children, lovers that– yes, even a somewhat insignificant tiny little bird can bring immense joy to your life, and emptiness when they leave it.

You have no idea.

I’ve had parakeets since I was about nine. I have three now, and I keep my parakeets in my little kitchen. They are the first things I greet in the morning, and when I take off their cover, they sing me hello, and they sing hello to the sunshine that flows from the window right next to the cage. It’s as it to tell me..”Life is good! Life is good! Wake up! You are alive! We are alive!” At least that’s how I interpret it.

A bird sings because it must. I write about it because I must. What are you going to do?

What kind of woman does that make me? I’m not running around with a briefcase off to some lawyer’s meetings. I’m not a doctor who begins each day typing in some computer. No, I start my day with taking care of my ‘buddies” as if they are just as important as an upcoming thesis on nano-technology.

And Mango died tonight.

Mango was an off green yellow, and the bully of the cage. He was the top banana. I was forever going over to the cage when he was chasing some of the other birds around and saying, “Stop that Mango!” But when I caught pneumonia this spring, he seemed to catch it too. Then one day, he woke up lame in one foot. The vet said…Oh don’t worry about it, he’ll get that foot back. But, the foot went dead…and it was amazing to see how this one little guy kept up his daily routing of preening his feathers. He could barely hold onto the stem, he kept losing balance, and falling down,  and it was hell for him to climb back up into his perch with only one working foot, but he managed it, for a whole month. To see the courage and determination of such a small task was just as inspiring as seeing a cancer patient going through chemotherapy.

I know, you think there’s no comparison. But you have to look at it from the “bird’s” point of view.

When Mango couldn’t do it any longer. Mango went to the floor. And when the bird goes to the floor, he goes to die.

But he didn’t die. He held on for weeks…until tonight.

Have you ever watched a bird die in your hands? I took Mango outside and showed him the sky, the trees, what he has been missing. Maybe it’s cruel, but really..birds are not meant to be pets to humans now are they? His little eyes got so big…at the  sight of a leaf.

I know, you think, come on Joyanna, you’re putting thoughts into that bird’s head that aren’t there. Am I? Does a bird recognize a leaf from just the millions of years of evolution, even if they have never seen one? Was he thinking, “OMG! What have I been missing!” Or…”Is this heaven?” Okay, now I really am putting words in a bird’s mouth, but hey…

Just seconds before he passed, his heart was beating so loud in my palm it was as if both our heartbeats become one–and I tried really hard with this bird to say I was NOT going to cry. But by the last heartbeat, and the shiver of the tiny body, and the flicker of a silver wing, and the closing of his eyes. …I was crying.

In reality, I was maybe scaring him to death.(LOL)

You know, I have been called “too sensitive” all my life. I’m too sensitive to the heartbeat of a bird. I’m too sensitive to the expression in a man’s eyes. I’m too sensitive for whatever. A man finds my ridiculous tears over a silly bird absurd…and the quintessence of…estrogen. And he would be …right. But, that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of rational thought. There IS reason in my madness.

The reason I cling to my animals are because they never disappoint me. They show me daily, and with the poignant innocence that we have all lost, God’s beauty in the face of a crazy political world of insanity. They are the oasis in the storm. Sometimes they are the only sanity one can find. To me, my birds are tiny angels…here to bring me light in darkness. To sing life. To make me SEE life..beyond the toaster, the computer, the car, the concrete.

I once read an article in Psychology Today that said that some people really ARE to sensitive. Their amygdalas were bigger than other people. Like a physical handicap.

And so my amygdala is making me celebrate the life of a bird. The life of a tree. The life of a soldier, the life of a lover, a friend.

To me, each one is equally precious in God’s eyes and the broken wing of my amygdala.

Mango—-We were only waiting for this moment to arrive–fly….

June 23, 2012 - Posted by Joyanna Adams | Just life, Uncategorized | life