Some birds are just more interesting than others. You never can explain the reason why one bird tugs at your heart more than another. Marbles was just such a bird. Shortly after taking him out of his shipping crate, I noticed his right foot had become curled, and he was slightly crippled and having some trouble perching. The activity level of the other birds inevitably resulted in his being knocked off the perch.

So, I took him to the vet to see what they thought. They said that Marbles had a soft body tumor (YES - I paid for an Xray for the inquiring minds that want to know) that might have been pushing on a nerve. They felt that was affecting his motor skills and coordination. They also suggested I euthanize him as it was the most humane thing to do and in the best interest of the bird. I told them that wasn't possible because as far as I could see, he was doing well enough, and he should be able to live out his life happily. I knew if I could ask Marbles, he would say - Whaddareya CRAZY? I'm Fine!!!

Marbles became another in a long line of SFN (special needs finches) that started with my first two finches ever purchased - Gouldians Jabber & Ganesh. I took him back home to the tsk tsking of the veterinarian experts. I was warned that at any day now, I could expect to find Marbles seriously suffering and/or dead and to be prepared for that. I should bring him back at any time to have him euthanized if he were found to be suffering. So we planned for the worst and prayed for the best.

Since we were living with a death sentence, I paired him up immediately with Crickett, my prettiest chocolate self hen. Crickett is a - well it rhymes with witch - and had never shown any interest in any society cock I had given her. I have seen her on many occasions - and still to this day - buck a cock right off her back. She has chased cocks to the point of exhaustion and death. Woe be the unwelcomed suitor in Crickett's domain. But I thought perhaps there might be some magic there - well I liked Marbles, so why shouldn't she?

True to my intuition, Crickett and Marbles took to one another right away. I had thought Marbles should live a little before he died - so that is why I gave him my best hen. Crickett was as loving and kind towards Marbles as he was towards her - a match made in heaven. Coco Puff appeared naked and hungry, hatching just three weeks later.

Man that was fast - so much for the pity mating. Before I knew it, Crickett was on eggs again. Heck, Coco Puff wasn't even fledged and there were three lovely white fertile orbs in the nest. So Marbles was a daddy again. And then again. And YET AGAIN. After the fourth clutch, I separated Crickett and Marbles - for her health as well as his. They pined for one another - the yeeping and breeping went on for days. But with time, they got on with their own respective society finch lives. Afterall, there was much millet spray to be consumed and only 24 hours in a day in which to do so!

I only kept the first hen, Coco Puff, from their matings as Marbles is a bonten pied cock, and all the chicks were marked chocolates not spotted enough to be called pied but with conspicuous markings on their forehead, wing and tail feathers. Coco Puff (who is also marked) is a pretty little bonten, and she also has her daddy's personality - not her mom's. Which is a good thing - trust me.

Occasionally, Marbles had periods where I thought he was going to die any second, he was having labored breathing and coordination problems. Then just as suddenly as these symptoms would occur, his health would improve, and I would think perhaps I was imagining something. Months, then years went by and Marbles continued to do revel in his death sentence.

About three months ago, I set Marbles up with Ruffles, a pretty little fawn chiyoda hen I bred last winter/spring. Unlike Crickett, Ruffles wasn't immediately enamored of Marbles. But persistence usually pays off. Marbles was suave and won her over. Around Halloween, I noticed that they were working their nest quite a bit and kept my fingers crossed. Marbles had that twinkle in his eyes again.

As so often happens, after a few weeks of inspections and never finding any eggs, I just figured they would mate when they were ready and stopped checking their nest. In fact, I had pretty much figured they were just playing house and would never really get "around to it." But Christmas afternoon, I heard those tiny little superultrasonic sounds that I swear you have to be part bat to perceive. So I investigated and sure enough, two hatchlings. Ruffles, a first time mom and a bit high-strung to begin with, seemed a bit flummoxed, perhaps even pie-eye. But Oh Marbles was so proud - looking at the hatchlings and then looking at me - as if to say - "See what I have here!" Marbles was never happier than when he was feeding his chicks or preening his mate.

Sadly enough, Marble's ecstatic joy of being a father once again was short lived. This afternoon I noticed I hadn't seen Marbles and was wondering why he was so broody. The chicks were begging and quite heartily. So I checked in their nest only to discover that Marbles had passed, silently and peacably while still incubating his brood. Ruffles was sitting right alongside of him, caring for their two chicks. They were just three days old and now had to rely totally on Ruffles for their care.

I hadn't noticed that he had been less or more coordinated than usual in the last few days, which is to say he was still basically a dork. He was breathing fine and of course, he was gulping food to feed his charges. I was so happy to see him living his life so fully and had given him lots of praise for the job well done on his new babies! We even had a cross-species chuckle once again about that TUMOR (pronounced TOOMA) that seemed to never really materialize. "Idiot vets," I thought! If only they could see Marbles now.

Perhaps the stress of having another new family to manage and care for was what took his life from him - Perhaps the tumor finally came for him. I guess I will never know. He still had a full breast so I doubt it was any communicable illness.

All I do know is that he was the happiest little society finch that ever was, despite his limp curled foot and a tumor mass inside his body. I am so glad that I didn't listen to the vets and have him destroyed prematurely - before Marbles really got his chance to LIVE. Had I done so, I would have missed out on his eternal bad hair feather doo, goofy antics and his paternalistic nurturing towards his chicks and his mates for the past almost two years. Or the way he would hop from the soft food dish to the perch, eye his dish, look and me and then yeep, as if to remind me - just in case I might forget - that yes, he would like some peas and carrots too. Against all odds, Marbles had endured for years with a ticking time bomb inside of him, and he enjoyed his little life to fullest any society finch could ever hope for.

As for me, it will take some time to adjust to not seeing his cutie little face popping up out of that nest whenever I walk by. Some finches are just so special they deserve a Eulogy, and so Marbles, this is yours. Bye Little Buddy.

Article © Christine Kumar 2003