I am heartbroken to report that Peanut was euthanized March 25 due to complications from a very short but powerful onset of PDD, Proventricular Dilatation Disease. PDD is a deadly digestive syndrome that afflicts wild and domesticated birds and parrots worldwide, caused by Avian Borna Virus (ABV). The disease is very contagious, especially among birds in captivity, who are confined to such close quarters.

It has taken me this long to put my grief into words. I am much more affected than I ever imagined. Peanut taught me so much in the two years we became acquainted. I learned patience and humility, courage and resilience. The thought of seeing her glorious face on a given day gave me joy. I had come to respect and admire her pluck and strong character, which developed as I grew to know her.

Peanut touched so many of us at The Landing. So timid and cautious, yet despite her traumatic and sad history, she managed in time to rise above her fear to find friendship and comfort in humans. Through the loving work of volunteers, Peanut learned how to trust again and find comfort in the people who doted on her. What an inspiration she was for all of us who sometimes feel our own worlds crashing around us and seek the kind of strength that comes from very deep within.

We celebrate her feisty spirit, though much of it had been broken long ago in an unwelcoming and irresponsible home. Peanut was an old soul. In her, we honor all the birds in captivity who suffer because of ignorance or neglect, and continue the mission of advocating compassionate and responsible animal care, conservation and respect for wildlife cultures.

Blessings on you, Peanut. No more cages, girl. Fly free.

Peanut came to The Landing after her first guardian left her with her ex-boyfriend. After five years the man decided he no longer wanted Peanut. He arrived, left Peanut and her things with us, and without so much as a goodbye was out the door—it felt strangely similar to the way people drop off unwanted goods.

It wasn't until I went to take her out of her carrier that I realized what a sad state Peanut was in. Aside from being completely naked on her front and most of her back form self-mutilation, her nails and beak were grossly overgrown, and what remained of her feathers were in terrible condition-tattered, broken and covered in stress bars (an indication, in her case, of poor diet and other stressing factors throughout entire cycle of feather growth).

Peanut's tiny cage was a squalid mess with feces, dirt, seed, and nicotine paste covering most surfaces. It came with one wooden dowel perch and one or two toys. When she lived with the man, she was rarely if ever let out of that small enclosure and her body condition showed this.

As best we can figure, she was under twelve years old and already had the beginnings of arthritis in her feet and legs. Her right shoulder was so atrophied that it made it impossible for her to ever completely extend her wing, had she had almost no muscle mass from being so tightly confined. Most of the time, she sat hunched down with her head between her shoulders. During the first years we spent most of our time using food to try and get her out of the back corner of her enclosure where she would spend most of her time cowered and calling her first female guardian's name.

Eventually, after a couple of years, she was able to come and play on "her" stand or if you were one of "her people" she would sit on your knee or arm and readily accept almost every bite of anything offered. Every morsel was relished, eaten slowly, preposterously so by bird standards—especially if she knew that you wanted her to do something she wasn't sure she wanted to do! In these cases, she would buy herself all the time in the world that she could.

The pain in her eyes was palpable. Even though she brightened over her years with us, thanks to some very committed volunteers who worked with her intensively on trust building, when left by herself she seemed broken and alone.

Her passing has had a deeper than expected impact on many. Peanut chose to trust a very select few. Those who got to know her best shared their life with an amazing individual.

Peanut, you are finally free to fly…

Rena Lockner

The first time she came out of her enclosure and onto my lap.

After sitting on the floor next to her enclosure and talking to her for weeks or months (I don't remember how long it took). One day she finally ventured from the doorway of her enclosure and climbed onto my knee. It was humbling to know she trusted me.

Encouraging her to make new human friends.

One of our volunteers from a different shift stopped by and saw Peanut helping me with shift work at our former shelter location. She mentioned that she didn't know Peanut stepped up. I gave her some tips on working with Peanut, and they became friends.

The car ride and conversation on our way to our new sanctuary location.

This is my favorite memory! She rode in her carrier next to me in the front seat. Her flock neighbors Louis and Karly (Moluccan cockatoos) were in the back seat. It was a cold evening in late January 2009. We sang, talked about the new building, and even held hands/feet on the car ride there. My only regret is that I didn't take a photo of this.

She liked to sit on the sink and get a bath.

She was quite intrigued by the running water and wanted to get lightly sprayed.

Seeing her confidence develop. . .

...to the point that she would walk across room or even into another room! In the past few months, when I came into her room she would climb down off of her house and cross the room to come and visit me. She even followed me out of the room on a few occasions. It was so great to see her stepping out of her comfort zone.

Her ability to forgive.

One of our volunteers had respiratory issues, so she regularly worked in the Amazon/Macaw room. Peanut really grew to love her. Peanut also let me know she was disappointed that I hadn't been spending enough time with her. To get back in Peanut's good graces we had several conversations apologetic/groveling (on my part) explaining that I had to work in other rooms since this volunteer needed to work in her room. There were a lot of other birds that needed to have their houses cleaned too (and we would walk around and I would show her all the other birds). I missed her when I wasn't in her room and would have preferred to clean her house. I really did miss her and love her, but was proud of her for making new friends.

Thankfully, she forgave me!

This was so true!

I also think that Galiena and Susan really captured something with this:

The pain in her eyes was palpable, and though she brightened over her years with us, thanks to some very committed volunteers who worked with her intensively on trust building; when left by herself she seemed broken and alone.

Also, with this:

Peanut touched so many of us at The Landing. So timid and cautious, yet despite her traumatic and sad history, she managed in time to rise above her fear to find friendship and comfort in humans. Through the loving work of volunteers, Peanut learned how to trust again and find comfort in the people who doted on her. What an inspiration she was for all of us who sometimes feel our own worlds crashing around us and seek the kind of strength that comes from very deep within.

Peanut had a deep inner strength that allowed her to survive. Though she did brighten over her years with us, and learned to trust humans again, and even found comfort in those who doted on her; there was still something so sad about her when she was by herself in her enclosure. Perhaps we all knew how badly she wanted to fly free.

Peanut, I am grateful for the pleasure of your friendship, and I am so happy that you are finally able to spread your wings and fly free.

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings. –William Blake