I care for a sweet disabled dove named Jingle. He’s not the first disabled bird I’ve cared for. I’ve had the privilege of caring for a few birds that people who don’t know these birds have dismissed as only suffering and should be “put to sleep”. They say “if they can’t fly, they aren’t birds”, or “if they can’t eat on their own, why keep them alive?” I’d like to address those questions and comments now.

We, at Palomacy, don’t start with euthanasia. We give the birds a fighting chance. Sometimes that takes a long time and a lot of effort. We let them guide us in their progress or, in some cases, they tell us when they are tired and don’t want to try any longer. We have a wonderful and supportive veterinary team at Medical Center For Birds who helps us along the way.

Jingle is a little white dove man who was saved from a street in San Jose (likely a survivor of a “dove release“). He came to Palomacy by way of a good Samaritan who brought him to Andy’s Pet Shop in San Jose in October 2017. At the time he came to us, he was seemingly healthy but beat up and skinny. As with most of our rescues, we don’t know anything of their past. We accept them into our care doing our best for them. Jingle seemed fine for a few months in the aviary at Andy’s and even found a mate, Mystic, for a brief time. One day he was found on the floor of the aviary with his head twisted upside down. He had torticollis, which can be a result of several factors – Paramyxovirus or a brain injury or salmonella. In all cases, the bird needs supportive care until they either recover or they tell us they just don’t want to continue.

Jingle has been with me for a few months and is holding steady. He is housed in a carrier with a big soft fleece blanket that is shaped into a kind of cave. It supports his body and upside down head position. I spend time snuggling him as much as I can. Luckily, he’s quite amenable to being held and loves people. He eats twice a day (or more if I can fit it in). I don’t keep hard objects in his carrier as he can sometimes flip around in a somersaulting way until he steadies himself.

We have a routine. Jingle and I snuggle/eat/drink in the morning for about an hour. He sits on my chest while I steady his restless body. He tends to pull/lean to the right and back up involuntarily. I help him stay still while he eats and drinks. I know when he’s done and then we snuggle. He loves cheek/ear scritches and often falls asleep on me. It’s times like this his body quiets and he seems like a healthy dove.

Jingle is always happy. He coos (and sings along to music), he preens and he preens some more. He eats well and as a matter of fact is kind of chubby. He hates vegetables (throws them at me in disgust every time I try to entice him). He loves playing with water (although he can’t bathe himself as he’s at risk for drowning). He calls to me when he sees me enter the room, looking at me from his upside down head position with those beautiful dark eyes. And he does the funniest thing- he always announces when he’s going to poop with a special little squeaky coo! Jingle came to me as a special needs foster but I have adopted him, partly because he is so labor intensive, I don’t think he’s a good candidate for adoption and partly (mostly) because I fell in love with him. He’s brave, inspiring and his life is important to him. He has a big life, it’s just not how most people think a ‘normal’ bird life is.

I don’t know what the future holds for Jingle. I don’t know what the future holds for me (none of us do) but he has a place with me for as long as he says he wants to be here. I’ll support him to the best of my ability. I hold out hope he’ll recover and be able to join other birds, fly and marry a lucky little hen. If he never does recover and his ‘normal’ is his current twisty-self, he is safe and loved until he tells me he isn’t happy. He’s the boss.