Simon is feeling much better. Photo by Joan E. Phelps

It's really difficult to know when a parrot is sick. They have limited body language when they're in good health; when they are ill or injured, they hide any clues that would reveal to a predator that the parrot was less than whole. Simon is sick.

One day last week, I asked him to step up on my hand so I could take him to the bathroom for his morning shower. He's right-footed. How many people know that parrots can be right- or left-footed? When I waited for his right foot to be placed on my left forefinger, all that moved toward me was a limp leg with four long toes dangling from it. It didn't take an avian vet for me to know something was amiss.

After waiting to see if it was only a transient neuro-blip, I called his vet, who was able to see Simon the next day. While there was no diagnosis for the foot/toe problem, the vet did discover a huge lesion on the underside of his tail--in the exact spot where those beautiful tail feathers grew from: the ones that were royal blue on one side and grass green on the other...with lemon-yellow tips at the end. The vet cleaned and treated the lesion, did a quick bodycheck, and checked his red- and white-blood count . . . normal. Nothing felt or seen that would cause the leg/foot problem, either. I was given (rather, I purchased at the cost of two large Starbuck's) a small bottle of anti-inflammatory drops and given instructions to have these drops find a way into whatever small space I could find between those two huge beak-parts--you know, the ones with more psi than the tires on my car.

We had a follow-up appointment five days later. With Simon still limping and compensating for that stringy, skinny reptile foot and toes, we drove to the avian vet's office. On the way, Simon started having seizures, something I've seen with only one other parrot--my sister's Goffin's cockatoo Bailey, minutes before she died. As we sped through little burgs in southeastern Ohio, I hoped I would not be stopped by a sheriff who couldn't conceive of the idea that a animal who weighed 414 grams could evoke such persistent behavior in a human....especially an animal that wasn't a dog or cat. You know, REAL pets.

At the vet's office Simon's case jumped ahead in line, just after the cockatiel with a prolapsed-something. We were swished into the exam room, where tables were moved around and a vet-tech nailed him to the formica with two strong hands strategically placed over one tiny neck and two rapidly flapping wings. Blood was drawn from his neck -- not a drop from a toenail, like usually done. This needle was attached to a human-sized syringe.

Then, off to the radiology department, which doubles as a room where sick birds are housed in what looks like microwave ovens. Flapped down on his back with his head in a lock, pins screwed into holes on either side, and a vet-in-residence helper stretched out his legs and feet using cords with lassos, pulled through grippers to extend Simon's legs as far as they could go. Next was sticky tape to affix both wings to the machine. This surely is hell for a parrot: to be on its back, vitals exposed, legs contained, no way to bite, no way to fly, predators with eyes on the fronts of their faces staring--one completely contained in a led vest, neck protector, and apron. Simon peeked at me, leaning against the doorway, looking for me to save him.

X-rays showed no abnormalities. We were given (well, sold -- at $12) a bottle of calcium supplement. This one with instructions for 6 drops every day. At least it had an eye-dropper. And, the term PDD (Proventricular Dilatation Disease) was mentioned by the vet. This literally the kiss of death for parrots. There is no known cause, no known way to diagnose it while the parrot is alive, and no cure. All parrots who contract PDD die within a few months to a year. I'm scared.

I stopped at my sister and brother-in-law's home on the way home from the vet's. Simon looked horribly stressed. There were no feathers that fit together. He was sweating (yes, under his wings--where people sweat), was holding his beak open, panting--eyes staring, expecting a predatory hawk to scoop him up while he sat with us in the sunroom.

Gradually, he realized he was with friends and began to eat a little snack especially prepared for him. Then the preening started. By the time we left, he was in a somber, sleepy mode, and made what I call baby-noises on the way home. "Ahh-haa-haa. Ahh-haa-haa."

When we arrived home, I gave him and the other two parrots all the mushy warm food they could eat from a spoon. Simon fell asleep on his playstand to Van Morrison singing "Bright Side of the Road."

We return to the vet's office for a follow-up exam tomorrow. Hopefully I can help Simon get back on the bright side of the road again.

UPDATE:

Joan and her parrots. Photo by David Pike

Simon had his 3rd avian-vet visit in a week today (Fri). He began the day by stepping up on my hand, right foot first--and at about 85% of his normal pressure and grip. This was great news for me! I'm not sure how he felt about it, but his feathers were preened and smooth and his eyes focused and bright.

Our long road trip was uneventful as far as seizures or other health-related issues go. I had a smooth jazz station on the radio and Simon was humming along every time the saxaphone dropped into the really low notes. At first, I thought there was a problem with my dashboard, so I rapped and tapped across the car with out successfully stifling the low-pitched "Mmmm...Mmmm."

There weren't any other birds in the vet's waiting room, and an aura of calmness prevailed. Simon said "Hell-woah, Thy-man" to the vet-techs and ushered into the exam room. The vet was encouraged by the returned strength and control in Simon's foot and toes and toweled and placed him on his back on a table to check the ugly lesion. As I leaned across the table to inspect the healing-ness, the humans in the room let out a long sigh. The dime-sized, red, open sore had started to close properly and securely. (I've never been so excited about the healing-tissue issue.)

On the way out of the office, we passed a female (red-head) eclectus who was sleeping in an incubator, recovering from surgery. Simon took specific interest in her and sprang up and down on his legs hoping to be able to get closer to her.

We stopped at Janice and Mark's home on the way to my place. Simon was once again allowed to perch on Gracie's playstand and sample her food. We moved the playstand under the big skylights in the room and Simon watched the clouds drift by. I think he hoped to see the female eclectus coming after him.

We are so happy to report that Simon continues to do well; he is eating as usual, the lesion is healing, and he has had no more seizures. As to the PDD, we hope for the best for this wonderful parrot whose colorful feathers cannot be adequately shown in any photograph.