Isabelle, Salve to my Heart

Many years ago I had a cockatoo named Sophia. She was the parrot love of my life, and I lost her unexpectedly and tragically. Losing her shattered my soul in a way I could never have imagined--her delight for life poured from her every cell, she was gentle and tender toward everyone (including other parrots). She was my constant companion in all of my activities, a sometimes-bossy observer from my shoulder, supervising my every task. Perhaps I became too attached to such a fragile creature--but with a potential lifespan of up to 60 years, I thought we would grow up--grow old--together. When I lost her, some part of my heart seemed gone forever, and I cried, missing her, for years.

Since then, and as an occasional parrot foster-mother, many precious creatures have come and gone in my life, and my own flock grew to an adorable duo of Lily and Ellie. (You can read more about my Godzilla parrotlet Lily here, and Genius Goffin's Cockatoo Ellie here.) Lily is fun and Ellie is brilliant, but nothing touched the grief I felt for my Sophia.

Until one day last July, unexpectedly, I learned that Dr. Clubb from Rainforest Clinic was seeking a home for a baby cockatoo who had been rescued from a family who couldn't care for her. She'd undergone a severe amount of medical trauma - she was now missing a foot and half plucked from months and months of unbearable physical pain, and the poor baby was only just past a year old.

Dr. Clubb posted her picture on Facebook, a baby umbrella cockatoo laying her head against the technician's chest, and the moment I saw her, I thought, "I must meet her." I called immediately. And the next day, I brought home Isabelle.

I am pretty sure I have never said the F-word as many times as I did the first month Isabelle was home. It's an involuntary word, one that's not a big part of my vocabulary.

The thing about Isabelle at first was that she'd just lost her foot and was also still a baby, so was not only bumbly from baby-ness, but also bumbly times a hundred million because she'd lost a foot AND was a baby. And to make things even worse, she'd chewed all of her wing feathers in her distress, so when she fell, she didn't glide. She fell with the most heart-wrenching thunk, and every fall could be a keel-bone (chest) fracture. And so I said the F-word a lot.

So, for the first month, Isabelle didn't actually move much. She was completely traumatized, frightened constantly by every new movement, and I kept her in a small cage with many close perches and a soft towel, so she could learn to navigate without too much pain. When she was out, my floors were covered with towels and blankets, and I never picked her up. If she wanted affection, I allowed her to come to me because 'stepping up' risked a terrible fall. Cuddles were always on her terms.

And yet, despite all of that, this parrot is the essence of love. If Lily is a sprite and Ellie is a genius, Isabelle is tender and gentle, affectionate, patient, and everything you wouldn't expect from a giant toddler-cockatoo who had experienced unfathomable pain as a baby. She has never bitten anyone. Not once, and not even when frightened.

She chatters non-stop: "What's that?" "What are you doing? Why?" "Ohhhh...." "Where are you going?" And she carries a conversation - dialogues with her can continue a fair while. She sits on my lap every day and we jabber gibberish about her morning, the weather, how much Ellie annoys her and why we must be nice to our bird-sisters.

And somehow, in caring for Isabelle, in hugging her every night before she sleeps, in listening to her sweet voice chattering about life, in the sweetness that is her very existence, my heart hurt less and less... until it didn't hurt anymore at all.

Thankful is a word that does not contain the depth of my feelings for Isabelle. Healed, maybe. My heart feels better again. And she has healed too - she gets around the house like a boss, even jumps and climbs, gets into mischief. She is always smiling, her eyes always sparkling.

I am not sure who rescued whom, but when it comes to the parrots in my life, she is my heart.