Reunited With My Parrot After 14 Years!
The tiny detour that changed everything
Prologue
The Unexpected Gift That Became Family
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon when my dad came strolling up, a big beaming smile spread across his face as he clutched a small box in his calloused hands. Even at 11 years old, I could recognize that look - he was eager to surprise me with some random, unexpected gift he'd stumbled upon.
You see, my old man loved little side hustles like that. Despite having a steady job, he'd spend his weekends mowing lawns for the wealthy folks around town, pocketing extra cash he didn't really need. But it gave him excuses to explore the neighborhood, maybe stumble into an adventure or two.
As he approached, I eyed that nondescript box with childlike wonder. What marvels could he have uncovered this time? The man had a knack for finding the most peculiar treasures.
Carefully, I lifted the lid, and there it was - a tiny, fragile creature that could've been a baby parrot staring back at me with innocent, newborn eyes.
"Holy Moly," I gasped, equal parts awestruck and confused, "Is that...is that a baby macaw?"
My dad's pride beamed even brighter as he regaled me with the story behind this unexpected feathered friend. Apparently, some poachers had been stalking a nearby tree, hoping to snatch some macaw nestlings to sell on the black market. In their greedy efforts, they disturbed the nest, sending two babies plummeting to their deaths while this lone survivor remained.
No parents to be found. An orphan macaw, defenseless against the cruel world.
And just like that, my dad had decided we were now a family of amateur bird rehabbers whether we knew it or not.
From that day on, caring for the little guy - who we dubbed "Kerry" - became my life's mission. He needed to be hand-fed, his featherless body protected from biting insects, his every need tended to with the utmost care and tenderness.
Kerry grew into a vibrant, intelligent part of our ragtag crew. He was more than just a pet parrot - he was that missing link of unconditional love and companionship we all needed before life started unraveling into catastrophe.
The bird became tamed, trained to mimic human words and gestures with uncanny accuracy. He had the run of our humble home, stretching his wings in short, gleeful bursts while otherwise remaining a cherished housemate.
But then tragedy struck, as it always does. Two years later, we lost our home and were forced to relocate to my grandmother's place - a new environment where Kerry suddenly wasn't allowed to roam free.
At 13 years old, I was entering that phase of youthful rebellion, bucking against rules and constraints. I can only imagine how confusing and upsetting that upheaval must have been for my feathered friend who couldn't understand why his world had shrank.
Eight months after that jarring transition, Kerry was gone. Whether from heartbreak, depression, or some illness I'll never know for sure. All I remember are the nightmares that tormented me for months afterward, haunted by visions of what I could've - should've - done differently to save this unexpected gift that had become family.
In my youthful naivete, I tortured myself over possibilities and "what ifs". There was likely nothing more I could've done to spare Kerry his tragic end.
Or so I thought!
A Macaw — Photo by Jean-Philippe Delberghe on Unsplash
Have you ever had one of those random intuitive nudges that seemed insignificant at the time, but ended up altering the whole course of your life?
That’s exactly what happened to me on one sunny day in California.
I stepped outside and spotted a flock of bright Amazonian parrots perched in a nearby tree.
You might be wondering what Amazonian parrots are doing in Southern California.
That’s a good question.
The likely explanation is that these birds were smuggled in illegally at some point and then released or escaped.
There are other theories too, but we know they definitely didn’t fly here naturally from Mexico, since parrots can only fly relatively short distances.
Seeing them felt like a wink from the universe transporting me back to my roots.
You see, in another life, I was the unlikely caretaker of magnificent Macaws, rescuing the last one from a shady pet store where it had been callously discarded.
Prior to migrating to the U.S., I lived on the Caribbean island nation of Trinidad and Tobago.
It’s a small country located just off the coast of Venezuela.
This is important because many animals, especially birds, are illegally smuggled into Trinidad to be sold for profit.
map of the Caribbean — image credit Wikipedia
One fateful day in 2001, instead of taking my normal path home, I took a different route.
I’m glad I did because I noticed there was a lot of commotion happening at a nearby pet store.
As I approached the store, the faint sound of the tiny squawks drew me in, and there, in a box amidst the other birds frantically trying to escape, lay the motionless form of a macaw, its life hanging in the balance.
When I asked the owner about the bird, his response was as callous as it was infuriating.
“It’s the same price as the others, but you might want to consider this one or that one,” he said, gesturing dismissively towards the other, more “desirable” specimens.
“You’re buying a dead bird,” he taunted, as if the life of this magnificent creature was nothing more than a bargaining chip.
But at that moment, I couldn’t turn away. Something deep within me compelled me to act, to save this bird from the cruel indifference of the world around it.
And so, with a heavy heart and a burning sense of purpose, I paid the owner and took the macaw home, determined to nurse it back to health.
And YES, I was an unwitting accomplice to some shady smuggling operations that fateful day.
If every lowlife smuggler opened up an exotic pet store, Trinidadians would barely look up from their rum punch long enough to burp out, “No shit.”
For the next 3.5 weeks, I poured my heart and soul into caring for this bird, whom we affectionately named Gigi.
The vet told me she was deeply depressed, likely missing the companionship of her family, and it was a slow and arduous process to coax her back to life.
But slowly, ever so slowly, I began to see the spark return to her eyes, the strength return to her wings.
And then, one Sunday morning, as I sat in my living room, I heard a soft pitter-patter on the vinyl floor.
There was Gigi, having climbed down from her enclosure, searching for me with a newfound sense of purpose.
To this day, my definition of perfect happiness is the sight of that blue-and-yellow-bellied bird running toward me.
It’s moments like these — the unexpected, the serendipitous, the seemingly insignificant — that have a way of reminding us that the mundane little choices we make every day can have lasting impacts.
The seemingly inconsequential action of choosing a different route home that day led me to the pet store, where I was compelled to save Gigi.
Gigi grew to talk, laugh, mock the dog, and loved eating toasted bread.
She had been my constant companion up until that point, my feathered confidante, and the source of so much joy and laughter in my life.
Yet, as fate would have it, I was forced to leave Gigi behind when I migrated in 2003 to New York City, entrusting her care to others.
Leaving her behind was like ripping a piece of my heart out.
As the years passed, I never lost hope that one day, somehow, someway, I would be reunited with my feisty, blue-and-yellow-bellied friend.
That faithful day arrived in March of 2017.
14 years later!
Shout out to the broken legal immigration process for making my journey to the United States feel like a never-ending episode of The Amazing Race (a story for another day).
After obtaining my travel authorization, I organized a trip to Trinidad for March and contacted my cousin, who was looking after Gigi, to arrange a meeting.
Would Gigi even recognize me?
You bet she did!
At first, she seemed a bit wary, tilting her head to the side as she studied me intently. But then, something shifted in her demeanor, and suddenly she climbed upon my arm.
She doesn’t do that with everyone.
She generally hates strangers.
It was as if no time had passed at all. Gigi was still the same spirited, affectionate bird I had known and adored all those years ago.
She is now approximately 23 years old.
They say the lifespan of a macaw is 40 years once they’re in “captivity.”
Gigi is uncaged and free, yet she refuses to leave her home.
And so, every year when I visit, we are reunited.
In the end, saving Gigi taught me that animals have an incredible capacity to heal our hearts and teach us life lessons.
She showed me that love is a force that transcends time and space, and that true friendship knows no limits.
Our reunion was evidence of life’s unexpected twists and turns, but it also highlighted that by staying true to our core values and following our instincts, we will always find our way back to where we truly belong.
Thank you for reading!
What a lovely story and more so the message behind it: you will always find the place where you belong ❤️
Animals are incredible. I love seeing the relationship between my daugthers and our dog. He was a puppy when my oldest was born and has been their best friend ever since.
Thank you for sharing and I loved the picture!
Thank you Neela, this story is absolutely beautiful. Kerry and Gigi were so lucky to have you as a loving parent. And we are lucky that you were willing to share their life with us through this article.