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Prana Bird sounded just like a Boston Terrier
by Arlene Millman
author of Boomerang - A Miracle Trilogy
(The tale of a remarkable Boston Terrier)

It was the spring of 1980, and I had recently lost Buttons, my beloved two year old Boston Terrier, to congenital heart failure. After researching the inherent longevity of potential pets, I narrowed the choices down to either a tortoise or a parrot. They were both genetically predisposed to live much longer than a dog. Ideally, the new addition would be my companion for many years to come, and we would grow old together. Eventually, I opted for a parrot. One April afternoon, I visited a local pet store, Parrots of the World, in search of my newest family member. Stepping through the threshold was like arriving into a tropical paradise, a parallel universe of sorts. My senses were immediately overwhelmed by a kaleidoscope of swirling colors and a cacophony of shrill squawks. There were all shapes and sizes of parrots. They were not in cages, as I had expected, but in a natural habitat setting on open perches.

At first, I focused on a a group of orange-cheeked cockateils. They were tiny and adorable. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a bird that took my breath away. The plumange on the back and wings was a stunning shade of iridescent blue, while the under-carriage and chest was covered with fluffy down, the color of a deep golden sunset. This bird was about six inches tall, not counting his tail feathers, which were longer than his body. He was making gurgling noises, and despite the comparatively large size, he was in the nursery section. On my part, it was love at first sight. This intriguing creature (who I later named Prana Bird) was attempting to keep its balance standing on the left foot, while nibbling on a juicy orange wedge that was grasped tightly in its right foot. Sticky orange juice was dripping everywhere, down the sides of his cheeks, and all the way down his chest, leaving a wet trail through the deep gold feathers.

After he had my attention, he winked mischievously, his white cheek patches turning a deep shade of pink, as he flirted with me and blushed. (Macaws and humans are the only living beings who are capable of blushing, I later learned). Obviously, he wanted me to come closer. I approached him slowly, and he made a clumsy half leap onto my extended forearm, where he wiped the sticky remnants of the orange from his black beak onto my arm and blouse. I was hooked on this baby blue and gold macaw; drawn to his physical beauty, and fascinated by his winning personality. From the beginning, Prana Bird was quite a character, and extremely bright. He was only three months old, and just learning to crack seeds. I put him on layaway, and visited him weekly, until he was old enough to come home. It was a hot and hazy day in early July, when I finally brought Prana Bird home. By then, he had me wrapped around his little claw.

He was my very first bird, and he was a delight! I named him "Prana", because it was a Sanskrit word meaning "the life force from the Sun", and he was so alive and full of energy. He learned to mimic sounds and speak English fluently. According to all the books on macaws, they were a very long-lived and highly intelligent species. It was not unusual for a blue and gold macaw to live upwards of sixty years in captivity. I was in heaven, and my remaining Boston Terrier, Cooky, gave him an introduction on how to speak perfect canine.

Fast forward over two decades later. My blue and gold macaw was not a Boston Terrier, but he certainly sounded like one. He could imitate the sounds of their barks, yelps, growls and squeals to perfection. Prana Bird celebrated his twenty-third birthday this past January 29th. He played with his wooden chew toys, ate with great gusto, and appeared to be the picture of health. He glowed with happiness, blushing for me as always.

I am heartbroken to announce that I lost him this past Sunday evening. Twenty three years is young for a macaw. Needless to say, I was very shocked, and brought his body to my avian specialist vet. I needed some answers, so I requested a necropsy be performed on Monday, to determine the cause of Prana Bird's demise. He died of an aneurysm of the right heart auricle, which is a rare occurance in macaws. It was immediate, and he never knew what hit him. However, I find this experience to be thought-provoking, because there doesn't seem to be any way to pre-screen, prevent or treat the possibility of a future fatal aneurysm. This condition can occur in humans as well as animals.

The following is a poem I wrote on Monday evening, after receiving the results of the necropsy. The pain is still very fresh, but maybe this poem will help somebody else who has suddenly lost a cherished pet.

PRANA BIRD

Last night, I lost my very first bird
He departed Earth, without a word
Just twenty-three years, and in his prime
How I wish for just a little more time.

Time to share in life's simple pleasures
Sweet memories, I'll always treasure
Bonds of love, so strong and steady
Why did you leave? I was not ready.

Prana Bird, you lived up to your name
Jubilant, zany and semi-tame
Smart as a whip, bright as a penny
Your flawless speech astounded many.

Glossy blue feathers, a deep gold chest
A regal macaw, you were the best
Prana means energy, from the Sun
You and the Universe, are now one.

-Sadly,
Arlene Millman

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