N
Norbert Wrigglebottom
Bobby came to me as an already very elderly cockatiel, he was 25 years old. Because of horrible neglect in the latter year of his life, I was advised that I probably would only get a few weeks to a few months with this precious soul. Seven years later, my beloved boy fell peacefully into his final sleep. He was at home with me, snuggly wrapped in the softest fleece, and resting on a warm heat pad. In his years with me, he never regained his feathers and never regained his weight. He did however have the appetite of a horse, and was regularly health checked by his avian vet. No worms, no infection, he was just how he was, a scrawny bag of worn out feathers that I loved with all my heart 


