Porky's Rainbow

Porky's Rainbow
Story - as told in April, 1998

Porky was a little Timneh African Grey Parrot. Actually, little wasn't so little - he was BIG for a Timneh, weighing in at over 330 grams. We don't know much about his beginning in captivity, but he was always just a little bit of a "renegade parrot." He came to me about six years ago from someone who wanted a slightly tamer parrot for a pet. Porky was definitely independent, not at all wanting to deal with humans. Though we tried for four years to tame him, he was definitely much happier when left alone in his own territory... his cage full of toys that he could control and conquer and bend to his commanding way. No matter what Porky was destined to become, he would remain with me - he was going nowhere without me.

Prior to 1996, he had made it abundantly clear to me that he didn't want to be a pet - he wanted a mate! So I started the difficult task of finding the perfect mate. As luck would have it, we happened across a very nice little female and I had her checked out very well - the whole "nine yards." I even had an endoscopic exam done to make sure she was fit for my little renegade, and she passed with flying colors! She was perfect! We were sooo eggcited -- we were going to have a little birdie wedding!

At the end of Sassy's long quarantine period, they got to "meet" for the first time, and within fifteen minutes, these two had declared and consummated their love. Roughly fifty days later, Porky's first baby hatched! Porky was happy... Sassy was happy... the babies were happy... And MAMA was VERY happy. So, like every perfect fairy tale, they all lived happily ever after.

...NOT!

Saturday, April 11, 1998
That afternoon...
While feeding the flock a late brunch, I noticed that Porky didn't appear to be feeling well. He was ambling along the bottom of the cage instead of running and charging at me and barking -- he was actually docile for a change. You know how those protective daddies can be! Well, I had not been looking real closely at the breeders, not wanting to disturb them when they're on eggs (like Porky and Sassy were), but he was obviously "off." I was immediately worried.

Porky had always been my healthiest, orneriest bird, not to mention the biggest PIG in the flock (thus the name, "Porky," of course) so his carriage really disturbed me. I pulled him out of the cage and brought him in, while he actually let me touch him without drawing my blood.

My first reaction was sheer horror... he was so thin, he felt like limp death in my hands. I asked myself how could this bird be so "right" yesterday, and so "off" today?! Not wanting to suspect illness, we wanted to believe that he was probably exhausted (and stressed) from taking care of his beloved lady. He took such good care of her... they were *such* a cute couple! He had fed her every bite, and stayed by her side like a good, devoted hubby... Oh he loved her dearly. We were so lucky to have such a wonderful pair of greys!

Porky didn't want *anything* to eat... he would take a sunflower seed in his mouth and pretend to chew it if I took the shell off for him first. I cut tiny pieces of apples to make his favorite fruit easier for him to enjoy. We bought more bananas just for him... <sigh> Porky was definitely not himself, and this wasn't going to be easy. I spent literally hours handfeeding him tiny bits of food to get his energy level back up.

As I closely observed him, I was starting to feel kind of helpless... He held his head down, with his beak in his chest, lifting it only to take tiny morsels of food. In the eight years I've had birds, I've NEVER had a sick bird! Our initial attempts at reaching a veterinarian failed... We were getting worried. His poops looked good -- just BIG, urine was fine, a little more urates than usual, feces firm and the right color for a pelleted diet.

I expressed my concerns to my Internet friends... not really letting on about my true fears... I couldn't face such horrible possibilities - not yet anyway. I couldn't say it, I couldn't type it... I couldn't THINK it. I received so many emails from people I had to answer in one mass letter to everyone as there was simply no way I could respond.

Something inside me said, "pull the eggs..." I did.

That evening...
Porky really hated any kind of socialization with humans, so he decided the best way to get rid of me was to eat. So that's what he did: He ate... and ate, and ATE! Boy, did he eat! At that point, we really felt that he had simply exhausted himself taking care of Sassy. I wanted to be safe though... we gave him plenty of fluids, all the food we could get him to eat, and put him in a warm place with controlled heat. We waited for the vet to call back. The waiting was exhausting... the evening turned magically turned morning...

Sunday, April 12, 1998
Bright and early, Easter Morning...
I jumped up from my short sleep and ran downstairs to see how Porky was doing. To my amazement, he was climbing around on his own, and eating *very* well! I was starting to feel much better - and was DEFINITELY relieved. I announced the wonderful news to everyone on the Internet! We had been given our Easter Miracle -- what a glorious day!

That afternoon, we spent the most beautiful sun-filled time of rest outside, enjoying Mother Nature at Her Very Best. The sun was smiling, the apple blossoms were dancing, the flowers were singing, and the Spring air tickled our imaginations with feathers of hope -- what a beautifully glorious day! Porky sang with the best of them and enjoyed his warm sunshine!

Later that evening...
Easter was ending and the brilliant joy we had experienced was slowly fading... As night was wearing on, Porky again looked very fatigued. He tried to eat, but dropped each piece of food he picked up. Once again, I found myself sitting with him patiently, cutting tiny morsels of food and pushing Pedialyte into him. He accepted that without too much fuss, but still refused food - even his favorites.

Feeling very panicked, I once again frantically started dialing the telephone, willing to accept almost any veterinarian I could reach. Nearly every machine I reached played a message with long explanations of emergency charges and how they expected payment. I was really starting to panic - and get downright ANGRY. It was going to be a long night...

Many of my Internet friends had chastised me for not taking just "any vet," but I was firm. And many were kind and concerned enough to send me long-distance numbers for their own veterinarians to call for advice. This I appreciated very much, but I couldn't call a long-distance vet for actual help, as I couldn't get medicine anyway until I had reached a local vet. Also, veterinarians understandably can't give advice over the phone without seeing the patient. In my heart, I felt I needed my avian vet, and just hoped Porky could "hang on" just a little longer. And I was now becoming desperately worried...

FINALLY, an emergency hospital veterinarian, on call, answered my message on his pager. He was out of town for the holiday, and it would be hours before he would be home! By then, it would be nearly morning! I was prepared to sit up with Porky all night and wait for morning right there beside him.

Yes, it was going to be a long, long night. We struggled with the food... He ate, and he spit it up. I noticed for the first time that he had a dried "discharge" of some sort around his nostrils, but they looked clear inside. It was going to be the longest night I would ever live through... He ate, almost feverishly, and then I watched as the food and fluids came right back up. I cried, and I fed him... I pushed liquids, and I cried. And I cried, and I cried. Helplessly, I just hoped he would make it through the long, long night.

Monday, April 13, 1998
Very early...
I waited patiently as the clock hands seemed to move slower with each minute. Finally we could call our avian vet, Dr. Donald Zantop. I was told that there were surgeries scheduled all day, and I desperately explained that I had a very sick bird, and would have brought him in Saturday if I could have reached him. "This is an emergency!" I helplessly pleaded... They said I could drop him off and he could be seen between surgeries. I explained that this is a very sick bird and too much time had already passed. Of course, they needed to know that it really was an emergency. They asked if we could come right away.

We did. The trip was an hour and it seemed like twenty. Dr. Zantop took him out of the cage and weighed him. Porky had dropped to a measly 270 grams. Again, I was horrified! His poops were just like I had described... normal looking, but "big." The "discharge" from his nostrils was probably the food that was being forced up since he was holding his head upside down. And it was a fight to stay composed and not cry. I explained that I had never had a sick bird... He knew it and in an attempt to lift the heavy air, he admitted he never had to see me.

I had done all I could, but as Dr. Zantop was examining him, in my heart, I knew what was coming. He gave him a shot of Reglan to help settle his digestion. We agreed to hospitalize Porky for a few days for diagnostics and treatment. He planned to take a crop biopsy and do a radiograph that afternoon when he was more stable. As I expected, Dr. Zantop was echoing my worst fears... Proventricular Dilitation Syndrome... It kept ringing in my ears... My world had come crashing down... This couldn't possibly be happening in my aviary...

A few hours later...
My dear husband took me to a beautifully tranquil place, where we walked and walked along the river... I don't remember the river much, or the trees, or the flowers, or birds singing... I just remember the recurring nightmare I was having and all the tears I had cried -- I don't think they stopped the whole day. My world was caving in. What about my flock? What about the rest of my birds? What if...?

3:05 PM...
The telephone rang... Porky had died. I broke down and cried with all I had... Of course we had to do a necropsy! We needed to make sure! He was to call with the gross necropsy results later in the evening. What a kind and gentle man... not only is he a man with incredible avian knowledge, but also a sensitive man with an understanding heart - a man to whom I could ask questions and get the answers I needed. We talked and talked about what we had to do now. I knew, but I needed to hear it.

Late in the PM - I was too hazy to remember the time...
I got my expected phone call, but by this time, I thought I was prepared for the news. Still, it hit me like a ton of bricks when he told me that we were probably correct. His proventriculus was grossly dilated, and he felt like the chances were about 95% that it was P.D.S. He had sent tissue samples to pathology for testing. We would know for sure in a few days. I was no longer worried about the wait -- I knew... I had known since I separated him from his mate. There would be no more surprises... no more miracles. Yes, we wanted Porky's body.

Tuesday, April 14, 1998
Sometime about mid-morning...
This time we weren't in such a huge hurry. I fed everyone and we packed a small cooler with drinks for another trip. We arrived at the clinic a little later to pick up Porky's body and Dr. Zantop worked us into his schedule again. We talked about what we would need to do. We had always done proper quarantine procedures and never had problems. We hadn't added any new birds lately, but of course, all new birds were always properly quarantined. We knew it didn't matter if this was P.D.S. Nothing does - it's the disease that follows no rules and nothing we could have done differently would have changed what happened.

Later in the PM...
We privately said good-bye to Porky and carefully placed his battered little body into the spot we had chosen for him under a beautiful apple tree in full blossom. We gave him a marker... a bird bath, which was sure to bring him company and pleasant song on sunny days. Porky's nightmare was over. He could now make his one last flight across the Rainbow Bridge.

The Remainder of the day...
We did what we could in the way of taking down nestboxes and moving cages around. We are working on building a new room with separate airspace for the breeders in the garage. It will have it's own air conditioning and heating system, and be totally insulated. All the breeders and singles will go there, and the pets will stay in the house. Of course, we don't know with 100% certainty yet, but knowing how the disease is (and isn't) this is the best we can do to be prepared for the worst.

As for Sassy... if Porky's tests DO come back positive for P.D.S. (or P.D.D., as many know it), we will do a crop biopsy on her. She is scheduled to go in for her tests on April 25. If she is also positive, Dr. Zantop has offered to help in finding a research facility where she can be a positive contribution to P.D.D. research. As we all know, Dr. Branson Ritchie has been doing research on this dreaded disease for quite some time, and we are hoping that he may be able accept her if that time comes. Also, if she is a positive carrier, we have accepted the possibility that there may be no place for her, and we must consider letting her join her beloved Porky. There are so many "if's" to consider... With his help, we will know the right thing to do when the time comes.

Thursday, April 16, 1998
Sometime in the mid-afternoon...
I slowly dialed the telephone number for the clinic... It rings a few times...

"Hello? <pause> This is Skye Weber, just wondering if the results might be back by some chance. I know Dr. Zantop has to go out of town tomorrow so I thought I'd check. <pause> Oh, okay, thanks. I knew it was probably too soon but thought I'd try anyway just in case -- I'm a little anxious, I guess. I'll try back again next week."

Tuesday, April 20, 1998
About mid-afternoon...
Again, I slowly punched in the clinic's numbers... <ring, ring, ring...> "Hello? Hi - yes, it's Skye again, wondering if you wouldn't mind checking those results on Porky, again for me? <pause> Oh, okay. I understand. I knew he sent them to a special lab and didn't realize it might take a little longer. I really appreciate you checking for me. I'll just wait until I hear from you. Thanks, again, for your time... Good-bye."

Wednesday, April 22, 1998
5:30 PM...
<ring, ring> "Oh, hi, Dr. Zantop - thanks so much for calling me. You must have Porky's results. <deafening silence> It is, huh? <another deafening silence> ALL of the tissues were infiltrated with it with it that bad? Even the brain tissue? Oh no.... <sob> <LONG pause> Well, we knew, didn't we? No, thanks. I can't think of any more questions... I really appreciate all the help and support you've given us. <much deleted> We'll see you on Saturday, with Sassy... <much deleted>" <click, sob...>

The worrying is over. Now, the real nightmare has begun.

What will the future bring?
I wish I could say. For now, we wait. We wait to see how many birds we will lose. I look at each one of my beloved birds in the eyes... "Will it be you? Are you going to be next?" That's it... I cry... and try to come to grips with reality. We play this unforgiving, horrible waiting game - dictated by rules we cannot bend -- and see how many we lose. And we wait for another miracle -- a TEST for this hideous disease, and perhaps a vaccine. And HOPE - we live on the hope that there will be one.

I know only one thing for certain. No birds will be leaving our flock until we are certain that we will not be passing the possibility of sick birds on to someone else. I understand that more information on P.D.S. may soon be forthcoming. In this event, we will be better able to screen our birds and better determine which birds are suspect. Hopefully, at that point, we can possibly vaccinate the rest of the flock. Again, there are many "if's."

With this unexpected, devastating turn of events, I have decided to focus my attentions on P.D.S. research. When Valerie Wixen's bird, Mocha passed on, and the Grey Poopon Challenge was publicized, I thought it was a wonderful gesture. I didn't feel the true impact of its importance until just now. Even the possibility of having the disease is frightening.

When I get stronger, I would like to try to sponsor a campaign to try to help with funding for continued P.D.S. research. Right now, I'm completely numb and powerless to do much else but worry what the future holds for our beloved flock. We are but a small aviary, but nevertheless, we are living -- and dying -- proof that this horrible disease can hit any aviary, anytime, anywhere. I hold the hope next to my heart that there will be a test and a vaccine sometime in the near future. That's a beginning to a means to the end, and therein lies hope that the research will continue and the terrible disease can be eradicated - for everyone.

Dr. Zantop said one thing to me that really hit home: "At least you aren't dependent on your birds for your livelihood." He was absolutely right. But I enjoyed breeding birds because I love the babies. And now all my fears and love for baby birds have turned into our worst nightmare. Not only will we no longer be raising baby birds, but we must also face the possibility of losing our beloved pets, as well. In its own cruel way, time will tell.

If you've made it this far, I certainly thank you for your interest and support. I feel I owe everyone a "Porky Update" for all the kindness that has been shown to me. And I will welcome comments from you about the possibilities of raising more research money in memory of Porky... not for Porky -- he has paid his price... but for YOUR birds who shouldn't have to pay the price if we can help to prevent it.

On a Personal Note...
I will be dropping out of site on the Net for a while... at least off of the mailing lists (going "nomail") and other public chat forums. I need some time to heal from this loss and to get our flock better situated. If you need to reach me for anything, please feel free to and drop me a line. Thank you.

Friday, December 31, 1999
As I sit here recalling memories of 1998, I suddenly realized I haven't given another "Porky update" in quite some time. Currently, research hasn't progressed much further, but we must never give up the hope. One day, research efforts will produce a test, a treatment and ultimately a vaccine for this terrible, heart-wrenching disease. We are still living in the nightmare, but never give up hope. To date, we have buried seven birds.

Tuesday, June 24, 2003
No subsequent deaths to report. And we wait...

Porky's Rainbow

Do you think this couldn't happen to you?
View the PDD Memorial Quilt!

"There are two kinds of aviaries:
those that have P.D.D., and those that WILL have it."
-- Dr. Branson Ritchie --

Last updated Tuesday, June 24, 2003