Cootu One

A Story by Treble

Up until high school, I always had two parakeets. When one met its fate, we'd bring another one home so they'd never get lonely. My first birds were Kittu and Bittu. One day, I approached the cage and found Kittu with her head bent backwards and her neck against the side of the cage. As if that wasn't bad enough, Bittu started walking around Kittu, nudging her with his beak, and then within ten minutes was taken away from us as well.

My grandparents were visiting us from India at the time, so I curled up in my grandmother's lap and my vision went blurry. When I had grieved enough to move, my dad and I kissed them, wrapped them in paper towels, and buried them beneath a tree in our backyard.

Some time later, my dad brought home a house-shaped box with holes. I opened it in a closed room, and inside were a blue and white parakeet and a green parakeet. We named the blue one Spiky because she was always very protective and would try to peck us if we put our finger in the cage. We named the green one Cootu, meaning cute, because I was only seven. Every once in a while, my dad and I would take them out to play so they'd bond with us.

Just a few months later, we took them out for their usual playtime. My dad clipped their wings and then let me play with them. We were in the foyer, and Spiky was on my finger. As a seven year old, watching where I was going was not my forte. On top of that, I couldn't find Cootu, so I was looking up, trying to find him. All of a sudden, I felt something soft and fluffy underneath my left foot.

Time slowed down as I lifted my left foot and my fears were confirmed. I knelt down and lifted him into the palm of my left hand, and a tear fell upon his broken body. I stroked his crooked feathers with my right hand, crying uncontrollably. As he passed from this world to the next, he rubbed his tiny head against my thumb, then went limp.

Truth be told, I don't remember what we did with him after that. The rest is just a blur. After some time, we bought another green parakeet, and I named that one Cootu Two. He lived a sufficient amount of time before he passed away. Then we got a yellow one named Lelo, who was actually named by my mom because when I was little, I used to say lelo instead of yellow. By that time, Spiky was a grandmother to Lelo. She was more protective than ever, especially if we tried to touch him. Spiky passed away recently after seven years of life under our roof, and then we had to give Lelo away because our two cats were scaring him and he was lonely. Yet even after all of them and 11 years, I could never forget what happened to Cootu One.

To this day, I can feel the softness under my left foot and his little head rubbing against my left thumb. I can feel his fragile body in my left palm, and I can see him going limp within minutes of lifting him. I still wonder what would have happened if I knew that clipping their wings meant they couldn't fly. Would I have seen him on the ground? If we hadn't clipped their wings at all, would he have been able to fly away from my foot? How long could he have lived if something, anything, had been different? Would he have lived longer than a few months? Would he have grown up with Spiky?

© 2017 Treble

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Coyote Poetry

A amazing story written. I enjoyed the complete story.
"To this day, I can feel the softness under my left foot and his little head rubbing against my left thumb. I can feel his fragile body in my left palm, and I can see him going limp within minutes of lifting him. I still wonder what would have happened if I knew that clipping their wings meant they couldn't fly. "
I love the above lines. Left a lot for the reader to think about. Thank you Treble for sharing the amazing story.
Coyote