Phantom Comes Home

What a stoic little parrot. It is clear that he has been in pain due to the sprained leg, but he soldiers on, exploring his world with an openness and curiosity which amazes me. I think how much people grumble and complain when their lives are consumed by physical pain. Not the case with this gray feathered bird. He is gentle, very quiet, and, as Mary Jo had observed, very ephemeral. He elicits the most profoundly tender emotions. I have loved pet dogs, and love the three parrots who've lived with me for these recent years, but there is something ineffable in my response to this little soul.

The day after Phantom comes home we visit Dr. McMillan at Windhover Vet Center. Dr. Marge takes some x-rays to confirm her suspicions about his injured leg. It isn't a sprain after all. Phantom's hip was dislocated. This is a relatively rare injury in birds. She feels that the percussion of a hard landing while he was learning to fly was the cause. Some of Phantom's siblings from other clutches over the years have had congenital skeletal problems, and this appears to be a related congenital issue. Marge feels that with physical therapy at home, good diet, the encouragement to exercise in and out of his cage, and calcium supplementation, Phantom will walk again. He might lurch about in a Frankenstein-ish gate, but he has the ability to be ambulatory. This is good and bad news. The good news is all about his recovery. The not so good news is that he harbors a vague but real tendency toward some health issues which are difficult to predict or foresee. His serum calcium levels are not the best, and hypocalcemia can create life threatening problems in African Gray parrots.

I try not to focus on the worries starting to haunt me. This diagnosis was unexpected, and the long road ahead for Phantom's recuperation is full of unknowns for both he and I. I've never done physical therapy with a baby bird, or had a frail bird with an uncertain future to care for. Phantom and I will somehow figure this out, and he'll walk again. I take the back roads from Walpole to Needham, beautiful rural roads in Westwood and Dover I've known since childhood. The beauty and familiarity are a balm for my worried state. Am I up to the responsibilities for successful care and healing of this sweet little parrot?

As thoughts turn uneasily in my mind, I look over at Phantom, in his wire topped carrier. He's lying on his back, watching the shadows and treetops zoom past overhead outside the passenger window. His expression suggests peace and ease. I need to learn something from him about what I see in his eyes. For want of a better description, I think to myself that his eyes seem full of trust. Total transcendent trust.