Allee
Well-known member
I know at least a few of you have read Harry stories and laughed with me. Harry's a great source of laughter, it seems only fair to share.
This story is not a happy one, in fact it's hard to write.
Every day with Harry is a gift. I've been through a lot with her. We have a very strong bond. Said a different way, I love Harry so much it scares me. Harry has QMS, quaker mutilation syndrome.
Harry's plucking and mutilating escalates with every molt and with every rise in hormone levels. It's like watching a loved one go through remission. She gets healthy, her feathers glow, she's vibrant and happy. Then one morning I'll find a scattering of soft down feathers on the bottom of her cage, she always starts with her breast and her legs.
Quakers have a ring of scalloped feathers around their necks. It looks like a ruffled collar. Harry had no feathers left around her neck when I adopted her, but she grew a brand new collar after a few months. I think Harry's ruffles are prettier than the finest diamonds. She works hard to have them and keep them.
Harry has been plucking for a few weeks now. I've done everything possible. Well, obviously not everything, this time nothing has worked. I've moved her cage, rearranged her things inside her cage. I put an air purifier closer to her area. Her diet is 100% organic. She gets frequent baths. She's had a thorough exam recently. She's out of her cage most of the day, every day. I'm running out of ideas.
Today when I examined her, her legs were peeled all the way to her tummy. Beneath her wings there are dime sized bald spots. She has a nickel sized bare spot on her back between her wings, the flesh is raw and chewed. Her ruffled collar is completely gone.
Harry knows the drill. Her aloe mist is in a blue bottle that we keep refrigerated. It makes her feathers oily and hard to dry, but she needs it for her skin. She hates the stuff, so do I, but it's a necessary evil. Today she climbed to the bottom of her cage, held up her wings and closed her eyes. No argument at all. She stayed in her cage with her head down for a couple of hours.
Harry has lots and lots of toys, the problem is, they all look brand new. I don't think Harry had ever learned to play with toys before I adopted her. I searched through the toy box and found the only toy she has ever showed much interest in. Getwozzy/Shirre made the toy for Harry. The top is half a coconut shell with four long ropes attached, lots of chew toys on each rope. I hung it over her favorite perch.
She finally flew to my shoulder and we sat together for a long time. She snuggled under my chin and we had a serious talk. I played her favorite music and she bobbed her head, but didn't dance or sing. I read to her for a bit and she listened quietly. Quietly is not in Harry's nature, when I read, she usually helps loudly and enthusiastically.
After more than two years, Harry is still absolutely terrified of hands, even mine. She flew to her favorite unauthorized spot on the TV, this time she didn't poop on it, I would have been delighted if she had. That's one of her bad girl tricks she reserves it for special occasions. Not today.
I added her favorite pasta to her evening meal and put all her favorite veggies in her chop. I covered my hand with a small white towel, held it up to her and said two forbidden words that I never, ever say to Harry. It's part of our guardian agreement and both of us respect the rules of engagement. Step up, usually incites violence immediately, today she quietly stepped onto my hand and let me carry her to her cage and put her inside. Never happens, Harry goes inside her cage on her own power and usually slams the door. Today she ran to her coconut toy, hid underneath it, clamped her beak on one of the ropes and closed her eyes.
She played word games with me for a few minutes when I told her goodnight, it wasn't the loud game we normally play that usually involves the rest of the flock and often the dogs, but at least she tried. She's sleeping beneath her toy.
As weird as it sounds when I asked her to step up, I was really hoping she would chase me down and make me bleed. That's Harry, that's one of the many things I love about her, such an outrageous temper in such a small body. I know how to stop profuse bleeding in both humans and birds. I know way more about plucking than I ever wanted to learn. I hate seeing my Harry depressed, it's not her.
Tomorrow is another day, maybe we'll learn something new and helpful.
When I give advice to members about plucking, I hope I never sound like a know it all, believe me when I say I'm not. Harry has taught me all I know about plucking. She's still teaching me.
This story is not a happy one, in fact it's hard to write.
Every day with Harry is a gift. I've been through a lot with her. We have a very strong bond. Said a different way, I love Harry so much it scares me. Harry has QMS, quaker mutilation syndrome.
Harry's plucking and mutilating escalates with every molt and with every rise in hormone levels. It's like watching a loved one go through remission. She gets healthy, her feathers glow, she's vibrant and happy. Then one morning I'll find a scattering of soft down feathers on the bottom of her cage, she always starts with her breast and her legs.
Quakers have a ring of scalloped feathers around their necks. It looks like a ruffled collar. Harry had no feathers left around her neck when I adopted her, but she grew a brand new collar after a few months. I think Harry's ruffles are prettier than the finest diamonds. She works hard to have them and keep them.
Harry has been plucking for a few weeks now. I've done everything possible. Well, obviously not everything, this time nothing has worked. I've moved her cage, rearranged her things inside her cage. I put an air purifier closer to her area. Her diet is 100% organic. She gets frequent baths. She's had a thorough exam recently. She's out of her cage most of the day, every day. I'm running out of ideas.
Today when I examined her, her legs were peeled all the way to her tummy. Beneath her wings there are dime sized bald spots. She has a nickel sized bare spot on her back between her wings, the flesh is raw and chewed. Her ruffled collar is completely gone.
Harry knows the drill. Her aloe mist is in a blue bottle that we keep refrigerated. It makes her feathers oily and hard to dry, but she needs it for her skin. She hates the stuff, so do I, but it's a necessary evil. Today she climbed to the bottom of her cage, held up her wings and closed her eyes. No argument at all. She stayed in her cage with her head down for a couple of hours.
Harry has lots and lots of toys, the problem is, they all look brand new. I don't think Harry had ever learned to play with toys before I adopted her. I searched through the toy box and found the only toy she has ever showed much interest in. Getwozzy/Shirre made the toy for Harry. The top is half a coconut shell with four long ropes attached, lots of chew toys on each rope. I hung it over her favorite perch.
She finally flew to my shoulder and we sat together for a long time. She snuggled under my chin and we had a serious talk. I played her favorite music and she bobbed her head, but didn't dance or sing. I read to her for a bit and she listened quietly. Quietly is not in Harry's nature, when I read, she usually helps loudly and enthusiastically.
After more than two years, Harry is still absolutely terrified of hands, even mine. She flew to her favorite unauthorized spot on the TV, this time she didn't poop on it, I would have been delighted if she had. That's one of her bad girl tricks she reserves it for special occasions. Not today.
I added her favorite pasta to her evening meal and put all her favorite veggies in her chop. I covered my hand with a small white towel, held it up to her and said two forbidden words that I never, ever say to Harry. It's part of our guardian agreement and both of us respect the rules of engagement. Step up, usually incites violence immediately, today she quietly stepped onto my hand and let me carry her to her cage and put her inside. Never happens, Harry goes inside her cage on her own power and usually slams the door. Today she ran to her coconut toy, hid underneath it, clamped her beak on one of the ropes and closed her eyes.
She played word games with me for a few minutes when I told her goodnight, it wasn't the loud game we normally play that usually involves the rest of the flock and often the dogs, but at least she tried. She's sleeping beneath her toy.
As weird as it sounds when I asked her to step up, I was really hoping she would chase me down and make me bleed. That's Harry, that's one of the many things I love about her, such an outrageous temper in such a small body. I know how to stop profuse bleeding in both humans and birds. I know way more about plucking than I ever wanted to learn. I hate seeing my Harry depressed, it's not her.
Tomorrow is another day, maybe we'll learn something new and helpful.
When I give advice to members about plucking, I hope I never sound like a know it all, believe me when I say I'm not. Harry has taught me all I know about plucking. She's still teaching me.
. I hated giving the chelation injections to Robin twice a day for a week when I'd never done it before. At least it would be the vet doing it! It's probably done with a tiny insulin syringe I would think.
