This was originally posted elsewhere on this site by Emma, and was moved here to give it more visibility. I was awoken by my father one morning. Aged 7 or 8 I was. Came downstairs and entered the living room. An unwanted pet that we had rescued. Sitting there was a cage with a cover on it. Still and silent. Dad pulled the cover off and there sat this beautiful bird. Yellow head, red "cheeks" as I called them, and grey and white plumage. I was the happiest child alive. I named him Magic, like the cockatiel off the 'Timmy Mallet Show'. Years off climbing in the cage, flying around the room and doing sneaky 'whoopsies' in places a change happened in my bird. 'He' started laying eggs! I refered to my cockatiel book and obviously my Magic wasnt a 'He'. Her head was duller yellow and she wasnt as 'cocky' as it said about the males. They were white eggs, but didnt know how it happened. I suggested maybes 'coming of age' like periods with women. We adapted her name to 'Magica'. I loved this bird so much. Her favourite whistle tunes were 'The Adams Family', 'La Cocaracha' and 'Monty Python Theme Tune'. She went mad for them, as she did for food. Sociable, she ate at times when we did, and always let us knew when she wanted a tit-bit. She even let the cat know that she was the highest in the pecking order in the family! More years passed, we enjoyed her, she enjoyed us. She talked to the wild birds when she was in the garden and was always bright and chirpy. It was strange. It was an ordinary wednesday night, and I came back from work, had food with my mother and father and talked to 'Jeeka' (one of my many nicknames for her). As I came back from putting plates away I noticed her on the floor of her cage. She was standing low, breathing rapidy and was very quiet. I knew at the back of my mind what was happening. She had never been like this before. I didnt want to believe it. I was striken with worry in seconds. the tears flowed. My Dad picked her up and she was hardlt moving. He said she felt ill. 'Lifeless,' he said. He placed her ever so gently on the cage floor again and as i looked into her eyes, I could see she was struggling to keep hers open. I sat with her all the way through, watching my baby Jeeka dying. I didnt want to believe it. Then with one last almighty move, Magica put up her wings, her head down - she looked so powerfull there - then her wings went back by her sides and in one swift movement she lay to rest on her left side. I cried and cried from pain and loss. I was in agony. I still am. My beautiful little bird who was so full of life just left me. She was my trusty little companion for half of my life. We put it down to her age that let her down, as she could have been any age when we rescued her. I planted some yellow and red flowers in the garden for her. The 21st of April will always stick in my mind. I feel so lonley not having her to whistle to and love her. I keep looking at the empty space where her little home was, but I just have to remember all the good things about my bird. The water still runs for her and I will never forget my beautiful baby Jeeka. Emma