He was just a baby when the woman found him and brought him home. I was in Arlington offering animal readings when she told me that Pudge needed help to remove a “stuck egg!” Once extracted, Pudge passed several more compacted eggs.
Pudge was aware of the changes in her body, and now she felt “upside down” as she contemplated the possibility of being a mother. Her human asked if Pudge was open to a male companion? She was very curious and wondered what that relationship might be like after spending her entire life with humans. She was wise to be cautious and intuitively knew her body needed to come back into balance before she would be ready for any more changes.
Questions swirled in her mind. What could Pudge expect now and how should she feel, or see herself? Pudge asked her person to tell her she was pretty to help her embrace her new identity. She said she saw herself through her eyes and needed to see her strength, wisdom, and beauty as a female. We ended with Pudge mulling over a life unlike any she had ever imagined.
Back at home, I found myself thinking about a white budgie parakeet I rescued many years ago. It took patience and persistence (and a good glove), to get Frosty out of his cage. Before long, he was chirping a greeting to me after work. Frosty loved to ride on my shoulder and be involved in food preparation, snacking on fruit and vegetables from his deck. I looked forward to our time together.
Frosty became known as the personable little white bird with the pink forehead. People always commented they had never seen a parakeet with a pink head. A little embarrassed, I had to confess it was my lipstick!
One day I found Frosty lying on the bottom of his cage. He had thyroid disease and couldn’t survive surgery. On the way to the veterinarian’s to say our final goodbye, I asked Frosty to please give me a sign if this was not his time, despite appearances. He pulled himself up from the corner of his cage and sang loudly to make his point. It was all the confirmation I needed. Once back home, Frosty returned to the bottom of the cage; he was barely hanging on. It became clear to me that Frosty was waiting for my husband’s return to say goodbye to him.
I watched Frosty gather his remaining strength to greet my husband as he walked through the door. Climbing from the cage bottom to his perch was a touching display of the love and respect he felt for him. They spoke briefly before Frosty gave in to the disease. Right up to the end this little budgie offered unconditional love and brought joy into our lives.
Magoo was captivating and kept me on my toes. He was a lime green Quaker parrot with a gray face and chest and hint of blue under his wings. Like Mr. Magoo the cartoon character, Magoo paced around his cage muttering to himself, seemingly deep in thought.
Magoo quickly earned the admiration of the neighborhood kids with his unexpected vocabulary and requests for lettuce or turkey. His acrobatics further endeared him and were always followed by a loud whistle and self-praises of “Good Boy! Magoo is a good boy! Darcy, kisses!”
Friends adored Magoo and wanted to hold him. The problem was he either charmed you or hurt you. I once grabbed Magoo seconds before he swallowed a stone he plucked out of a friend’s ring. Another friend wasn’t so lucky when Magoo cooed sweetly in his ear before permanently piercing it with his powerful beak.
I could usually anticipate Magoo’s behavior until the day I found him bobbing his head, walking backward clucking to himself with feathers puffed out. He had been pulling out feathers and was now performing a mating dance. I was the only one that could handle him though he would sometimes bite me. Soon Magoo had to be put in his cage when anyone came over due to his aggressive and unpredictable behavior.
When our first baby was born, Magoo’s behavior escalated. Upon the recommendation of the pet shop owner and bird specialist, we returned Magoo to the pet store in the hope that he could find the right home for him.
Magoo fell in love with the store owner and immediately stepped back into the role of the star. He sat on the counter or owner’s shoulder greeting people and performing tricks. Several people expressed an interest in adopting Magoo until he attacked one of them. Magoo was great for business and thrived on the attention. In our last conversation, I learned Magoo would be mated with a female Quaker parrot after displaying a keen interest in one another.
It was 1994 when the Seattle Times reported all but one bird had died from smoke inhalation from a fire at a neighboring restaurant. I held my breath searching for a green/gray/blue parrot; the bird in the picture was white.
I used to wonder how Magoo felt about his life and our relationship? Did he feel he gave up too much to be in our world? I didn’t always understand him but tried my best to respect and honor him. I had more questions than answers back then and, most of all, I wondered if he was happy.
Now I wonder by embodying a bird what opportunities Magoo and Frosty encountered to grow as a soul and if they accomplished all they hoped too. I sure hope so.
Jacquelin Smith writes in Animal Communication, Our Sacred Connection (186), “All beings reflect and express different aspects of the Creator. The outer form is different, but soul is soul. We are all one… no being is higher or lower. A fly’s life has purpose, just as a human’s does.”