Well, my two lovebirds haven't died technically. But they have flown the coop. On Christmas Michael bought me two little lovebirds who the children christened Lolli and Pop. They were cute. They brought back memories of the birds that my Nana used to have growing up. But after living with them a few days I quickly remembered why my Nana's birds got on my last good nerve and why she was always shushing them and covering their cage with a blanket because they were "bad birds".
They are hella noisy.
Whenever the kids started crying, or the music was on too loud, or there was too much yelling, those birds started going buckwild, chirping and screeching. Which, when you are in a house with six kids aged 9 and under...is all the time. Ugh.
But since my honey was the one who bought it for me (a gift of birds to a non-animal lover, go figure), and the two lovebirds represented us in some fashion...I tolerated their noise, their bird seed they would scatter like two epileptics and their little black bird poo that would end up on whatever furniture the cage would be set upon.
I was up on a chair putting up new curtains my mom just bought me and I decided to move them outside, where they could get some fresh air. Birds need fresh air, right? We've hung their little cage outside before, so its not like this was something unusual. But I must not have secured the chain properly. Solomon ran outside, slammed the door and pow, the cage slammed onto the ground and the top of the cage came flying off. Lolli took off instantly. After she figured she could actually fly and she almost crashed into our back fence, she was gone. Sigh. I immediately tried to contain Pop, who was still sitting like a good bird. But he wiggled away and flew off. But all those months of sitting on that little branch and eating seed like a fatty all day prevented him from getting off the ground. He flew low to the ground in our backyard until he just landed on branch of a dried bush. Then I had to get the boys to hold onto Chellie, who was ready for a little bird taco. I tried to cover Pop with a little blanket so I could catch him but he managed to get away from me, that crafty little bird. Then he got some air, narrowly missed a power line and flew away. Sigh. For a second I pondered whether or not birds were like cats and dogs, coming back to their owners when they are hungry. I highly doubt that.
I can hear it now. Just another animal tragedy that my family can roast me about. I have successfully managed to kill a puppy in a crate (accidents happen), I have owned a German Shepherd that enjoyed self-mutilation (she chewed about two inches of her tail off) and now, my birds have busted out of their cage and flew far, far away. At least now you know that 1.) Never give me an animal as a gift and 2.) Never ask me to pet sit.