So this afternoon/evening was the scariest event I’ve had in a while.

I blame my brother and myself. Mostly myself. I have been bugging my brother to help me clip Chubs’ claws for so, so long. Months, I believe. But clipping Chubs is never an easy task…which is why my brother continually puts it off. Finally, today I bugged him enough and we tried clipping today.

It was horrible!

We had so much trouble catching him! We did this in a bathroom to keep him from getting away, but he flew all over the place. When he was tired we finally caught him in a towel and my brother got a hold of him. I held on to his feet and clipped one claw. One claw. Disaster followed. We left his claws way too long…I was afraid of this. When the claw grows longer, the veins inside the claw grow out too. My clip was too deep and he started bleeding. At that point I panicked and froze. As I was staring at the dripping blood in horror my brother told me to go get something for him. I ran to the kitchen for the bag of flour and came back, trying to put flour on his claw and apply pressure on it with a cotton swab. It didn’t seem to be stopping, and I was really frightened. Then my brother suggest I get a cup. So I came running back with a cup, poured flour into it, and we dipped his claw into it. The blood was still flowing (now on the floor) and he was a restless little guy, shaking his leg and making the blood fly. He finally got himself loose and landed on one of the towels in the bathroom.

At this point I told my brother to go do some research online, to see what else we could do. I stayed close to Chubs and kept my head near his, trying to talk sweetly to him to coax him. I looked at his tired little self and his half-closed eyes. That’s when I started crying. My brother came back with baking soda to apply to the claw once more, but Chubs was definitely on to us and didn’t like the idea of being touched. Because of this he jumped in a panic all over the place, and I was afraid his activity might make the blood flow even more so I told my brother to give up. Chubs climbed up to my shoulder and when I took a look at his foot he didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore. We stayed like that for a long time, with him on my shoulder in silence.

I kept looking at him and each time his eyes were almost closed. He looked really sleepy. I was really worried. I was pretty sure he wasn’t just lacking sleep; it was probably all of the blood he lost. It doesn’t look like much for a human, but for birds it could be fatal. My hands were blotted with dried blood. I sat there for a long time, feeding him his favorite treat. The empty shells fell all over my shirt and hair, but I didn’t care.

“What’s the point of crying? He’s not dead,” my brother said.

How insensitive, I thought. “I’m crying because I’m upset! He lost a lot of blood and he could die. Even if he doesn’t die, I still feel really bad for him.” I mean, he’s been my cute little baby bird for a little more than a year. He’s my responsibility and he’s almost totally dependent on me. If I were to kill him or cause him pain? It’s a horrible feeling.

Afterwards we kept Chubs close by. He seemed really fatigued, since he perched calmly on our shoulders, instead of running around and causing trouble like usual.

Now he’s fine, I think. He started flying around again and attacking people and falling in love with socks.

It made me really how much I care for that little bird (despite his evilness). My brother said, “If you cried for Chubs I wonder how you’ll react when I die. But then again I won’t be able to if that happens.” Eh, insensitive brother, as always. :)