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mousmeMy mother's strawberry finch died yesterday morning.
He was eleven years old (maybe more), which is unheard of for a bird of his breed and size. He lived more than twice the usual lifespan of such birds. He was the survivor of a pair. The female died two summers ago, also at a very old age.
I've never had any great affinity for birds. I prefer mammals. Still, the passing of this little bird is a landmark. He and his mate (although we never could get them to nest) were with us all through my teenage years (well, almost).
The death of my dog signalled the death of my childhood.
I wonder if this is the end of my adolescence? Something small and insignificant, extinguished without so much as a sigh in the night...
He was eleven years old (maybe more), which is unheard of for a bird of his breed and size. He lived more than twice the usual lifespan of such birds. He was the survivor of a pair. The female died two summers ago, also at a very old age.
I've never had any great affinity for birds. I prefer mammals. Still, the passing of this little bird is a landmark. He and his mate (although we never could get them to nest) were with us all through my teenage years (well, almost).
The death of my dog signalled the death of my childhood.
I wonder if this is the end of my adolescence? Something small and insignificant, extinguished without so much as a sigh in the night...
