Gay Birds
Being an old flower child and a student of Mother Nature, we've always had pets in our home. Cats, dogs, turtles, fish, guinea pigs, hamsters, gerbils, mice and on occasion, birds.
Several years ago when my father (Grandpa) was still alive, his health was failing. Our dog was his companion. Out of the blue, he commented that it would be nice to have a bird, a canary to be specific. Being the dutiful daughter and a whiz with a credit card, I ran right out to the local Petland.
Now if anyone is remotely acquainted with Petland and/or canaries, you would know that Petland Discount, is not. And canaries are fucking expensive. Plus, not all canaries sing. It's the boy canary that sings to please his mate in hopes of creating lots of baby canaries. Sooo...
I pick out a nice male specimen, golden yellow with a bright orange beak. Of course my Mister Canary needs a Misses Canary to sing to. And then you must have the proper cage, perches, mirrors, water container, seed container and bird seed. Specifically, canary bird seed. Two hundred and fifty dollars later, I was the proud owner of 2 canaries and their various accouterments. I bring kit and caboodle home and set them up on a nice sunny window sill.
Several days later, Mister Canary remains silent and sullen. Okay. Could I have a defective canary? Could he not like the spot I put the cage? Perhaps he needs more time to get used to his new bride and surroundings. We wait. A couple of more days go by, no singing but much to our horror, a dead bloody Misses Canary, belly up on the bottom of the cage. I go back to Petland.
As I peruse the canaries looking for the perfect mate for my boy, I see a cage filled with finches. Now finches are related to canaries and while Mister Finch's song is not as pretty as Mister Canary, he does have some repertoire. So I whip out the old credit card, purchase a new Misses Canary, a Mister and Misses Finch, a finch cage, water container, seed container, perches, etc. My great saving is that canaries and finches eat the same seed. Big fucking deal. Another two hundred later, I'm loading everything into my car and driving home.
Okay, here we go again. The new Misses Canary installed with Mister Canary. Mister and Misses Finch in their own cozy cage next to the canaries. We give them a few days to get acquainted and prepare their song.
Mister Canary...nothing, not a peep or song to be heard. Mister Finch, in wonderful voice, serenading his mate or so I thought. Grandpa is happy. A daughter's work is done. Until...
Another morning, another bloody corpse. This time it's Misses Finch. Well, little birds don't have a long life span and who knows just how old a bird is when you buy them. So what do I do? I mean you can't have a bird without it's mate. Another trip to Petland and another finch. Thank the gods that finches don't cost nearly as much as a canary. Cash! No credit. The new Misses Finch is happily installed with Mister Finch.
Another morning, another corpse. Misses Canary, dead, pushing up the daisies. She's an ex-canary. Well, fuck it. I was not going out to buy another canary to keep a canary murdering, non-singing canary, company. No way. The murderer was left in his cell, alone. With no one but his neighbors, Mister and Misses Finch to keep him company and Mister Finch to sing a song. Several days go by.
Oh shit, not again. Misses Finch, little birdie feet, high up in the air. And not in a positive life affirming way.
Okay, I can take a hint. I don't need a house to fall on my head. Granted it was at least 20 years that my gaydar was put to any use so it was very rusty. But thankfully it started to ping. I got rid of the evidence aka the corpse. Moved Mister Finch in with Mister Canary. Got rid of the extra cage then left the room.
Care to take a guess at what happened next? Yup, Mister Canary and Mister Finch were singing duets. And they remained that way for several months until what Mother Nature giveth, Mother Nature taketh away.
Mister Finch passed away, a natural death. Mister Canary stopped singing, pining away for his mate, feathers dropping like flies. I quickly run out and buy a boy finch and shove him into the cage hoping for a miracle but it was too late. A couple of days later, Mister Canary is dead. The new finch hung around for quite some time but he had no mate to sing for and he eventually went the way of his predecessors.
Moral of the story, if there is one: Love comes in many shapes, colors, sizes, and genders, with and without feathers. Let's all sing!
Sabina...1st original work and a true story.
8/5/05
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