Chico Is No More

We spent yesterday evening trying to pamper our pet parrot, Chico, after learning that it's a BAD sign for him to have his feathers fluffed all up for a whole day. We hand-fed him and held him and tried to keep him adequately satisfied. I even made a "heating pack" of warm rice tied in a sock, in case the drop in temperature had upset his delicate balance. He didn't want to walk up and down our arms, though, and wasn't much interested in eating. He didn't try to talk to us or move around much. Bad signs.

Camille came into our bedroom first thing this morning to ask if Chico should be lying down on his side, rather than perched on his stick. Alas, Chico had passed on in the night. Our friend, Saul, came over to perform a funeral service, wherein we observed a second of silence (that's all the poor fella got) in memory of Chico.

We had gotten used to his squeaky calls, apparently a sort of conversation he was having each day with the parrots outside in the mango trees. Caroline was having moderate success at trying to teach him different animal noises. He was a neat little pet. I think we'll hold off on finding another "mascota" until we're in our own home and know more about local animals. :(

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