I’ve been putting this post off all week, as if by not writing it I could deny that it was true. Unfortunately, there’s still an empty cage in my basement, so it’s still real.
Chipotle, the crimson bellied conure that we rescued from a life of neglect and malnutrition, died last Saturday. After owning him for over a year, his feathers never improved, despite a good diet and clean bloodwork. We assumed it was probably follicle damage, but it might have been an underlying illness that we didn’t discover. There’s no way of knowing now.
He suffered from what seemed like a stroke late Saturday night, and died an hour later. He’s buried in our yard next to Williams.
If nothing else, he had a good life for the year he was with us. He had good food, toys to play with, a large cage that he could move around in well, and friends to scream at. I wish I could have given him more, but that wasn’t to be.