In May of 2019, I got a call from my local parrot rescue. The founder wanted to know if I was willing to foster a little 13 year old Green-cheeked conure named Noel. I was hesitant at first because I already had two conures in my house. I was still in the beginning of my journey studying about parrot behavior, and apparently this bird had some issues with anxiety. But, after some consideration, and a bit of persistence from the rescue, I decided I would help out. What I didn't know is that the years following would challenge me in new ways that would teach me about life, love, and perseverance. 

The First Days

When I got to the rescue, I saw Noel clung to the side of his cage. His feathers were sleek against his body and his eyes were wide. The poor thing looked so nervous. I was given a bag of the food his previous family brought to the rescue when they surrendered him - a seed mix containing mostly sunflower seeds and peanuts. I was informed that he only picks out the sunflower seeds, which is pretty standard with birds that are given these mixes. I knew one of the first things I wanted to address with Noel, once he felt secure in his new environment, was his diet. If this was his main source of nutrition for the last 13 years, I knew we could be looking at some health issues if I didn’t. Little did I know that those issues had likely already started to affect Noel’s health in big ways.

For the first week or so of being in my home, Noel called out constantly. Being in a new place, especially after so many years in one environment, was likely scary and confusing for him. I noticed that his feathers were choppy and looked to be in poor condition. His tail and the tips of his wings were heavily damaged, but I assumed that this was probably due to being in a small cage or in a cage with poor perch placement. However, after some careful observance, I noticed that he was actually barbering his feathers. This is a type of feather destructive behavior where the bird damages its own feathers. It is often done without pulling them out. The edge of the feathers will often appear to be chewed and frayed when a bird is barbering. Unfortunately, over time, this behavior got worse until Noel was completely pulling out his feathers. I felt like I was doing something wrong - that I was not giving him the sense of security he needed despite my efforts. 

Thankfully, he took to our other Green-cheek right away, and she welcomed him with open wings. But Noel’s mental health seemed to be getting worse. His fear of hands, despite careful training, continued. He also seemed tired and weak during the day. I considered returning him to the rescue because I felt like I was failing him. I had never worked with a bird before where I didn’t see improvement within a few months. One day, the rescue said they had someone that was willing to adopt Noel but that I had “first choice” since I was fostering him. I told them that I would think about it. I hung up the phone and looked up at his little face and began to cry. What if this new person gives up on him? What if he ended up left in a cage all day because he bites like in his previous home? No, I couldn’t do it. It was then that I walked over to him as he peacefully sat on top of his cage with one foot tucked into his half-bald little chest and I promised him I would never give up on him - and that he was home.

The Mystery Begins

Not long after I brought Noel home, he started to display some strange behaviors in the middle of the night. He didn't seem to sleep very well. At times, I would hear gentle flapping and some movement against the bars. I always went right over to check on him and noticed that after this happened, he would be wandering around the bottom of his cage seemingly confused and in a daze. He seemed weak and would then let me scoop him up and put him back in his seagrass hut. This bird never let me touch him at any other time. There was always a little bit of poop in his bed when this happened. The first time it happened, I thought that maybe he just fell out of his bed on accident. I made an appointment with a vet after the second time it happened. I was worried that he was losing function of his body or having a stroke. After the initial examination, it was determined that he was probably having “night frights” and that he was fine. I wanted to just accept that he was fine, but I still had this weird feeling about it. I also felt like the vet wasn’t putting in very much effort into investigating the situation - a pattern that would unfortunately continue for years with other vets even after symptoms increased.

These night episodes continued and happened about 1-2 times per week. I wanted to get a second opinion. Getting avian medical care in my city was hard. Most clinics turned me away stating that they didn't see birds. We had one certified avian vet in our city but she had retired before I adopted Noel. Over the next couple of years, I took Noel to four different clinics. Three of them told me that they didn’t see anything wrong with him after they weighed him, poked at him a bit, and handed him back to me without any further investigation. One vet even grabbed him despite me telling him that he didn’t like to be touched, and after Noel bit him, the vet proceeded to flick him hard on his beak. Noel cried out, flew to me, and tucked himself into my neck. He said that Noel just needed to learn that he is not at the top of the hierarchy at home. That was an awful experience. I’m not trying to discourage anyone from taking their bird to a vet. Instead, I want to highlight that veterinarians that specialize in avian medicine are a valuable yet rare resource in some locations. I firmly believe we need to encourage our youth interested in veterinary school to consider specializing in avian medicine.

As the years continued, the “night frights” continued. I put Noel in my bedroom with me so I could hear if he needed my help. Every time an episode happened, I would go over to his cage, scoop him up from the bottom, hold him close to me while I softly spoke to or sang to him, then put him back once he seemed to be aware again and I knew he was OK. One night in 2022 when I found Noel at the bottom of his cage, I noticed that he was very slowly flapping one wing only on one side of his body. When I picked him up, one foot was curled up and he couldn’t put any pressure on it. He also wasn’t responding at all to me. Noel always said “baby” or “I’m right here” to me as a sort of “check-in” throughout the day and night and after his episodes. But this time he was silent and barely moving. I held him close to my chest and prepared for the worst. But he started to come around after about 5 minutes.

I called the last vet we saw, made another appointment, and took him in the next day. I told her I was sure he was either hazing seizures or strokes. She finally decided to run some blood work on Noel. That blood work came back fine other than he had slightly low calcium levels. I had read that some birds, especially African Greys, are prone to getting seizures if they are fed a poor diet and have low calcium levels. She still didn’t think he was having seizures or a stroke and said it was probably that he was just getting older and sent me home with some over the counter calcium drops. The seizures seemed to lessen a bit in frequency, but the ones he was still having were getting more intense. He would flap on one side, get really dazed, seem paralyzed on one side of his body, and then be completely fine a few minutes later.

Taking Matters Into My Own Hands

Christmas eve of 2023 was my breaking point. I heard the typical episode begin in Noel’s cage. But when I picked him up, he wasn’t moving at all. His entire bottom was covered in feces and his body was trembling very, very slightly. His eyes were wide open but there seemed to be no one there. I took him into the living room, held him against my chest, and just cried. I kissed his head over and over and told him that I loved him and that he was the best bird in the world. I told him that I was sorry that I couldn’t help him and that I failed him. The trembling in his body ceased and I just sat there with him against me. I started saying goodbye to my baby - the bird that over the last 4 years had become the one with the largest place in my heart. But, he suddenly bit me. It was the most wonderful pain I had ever felt. He was OK somehow. It felt like a miracle - like he had come back to life. He was completely fine. I put him back in his bed with his cage mate, crawled back into mine, and just cried. I was relieved, but I was also done just sitting around and watching him struggle while I was told everything was completely fine. It was clearly getting worse, and I was not going to wait for him to decline before someone would finally take more drastic action.

I read everything I could get access to about parrots and seizures. I used my university login to access every study I could find mentioning avian seizure treatment. I read every shared story and article I could find that might provide a possible clue and piece of the puzzle. As of that time, there really wasn’t much to go by. But I soaked it all in. Every piece of information gave me hope. Late nights, early mornings, and breaks between classes provided an opportunity to try and find answers. I also started logging every time Noel had an episode and everything that day that led up to and that followed them. Everything he ate, any changes in routine, and anything that I could think of that might be relevant - even things that might not be. Once I had a good amount of information logged, I would look for patterns. I noticed that on days where Noel had seed as a treat or got less light from his UVA/UVB lamp that he was more likely to have an episode. I also noted the times he would experience them and that they were always within a few hours of falling asleep. I shared this with the vet though nothing changed in his treatment.

After some more time had passed, I made a desperate plea on a local forum asking anyone if they knew of a vet in the area that might have extensive avian knowledge. I had asked this question before many times with people in the community but every recommendation ended up the same - without any new investigation. I decided that if this didn’t produce some results, that I was going to travel out of state to find someone. Asking in an online forum wasn’t likely to produce results, but I was willing to try anything for Noel. I got a response from a person who said that every time they were at their vet with their dog, that one of the vets there “was always with some bird” and that maybe I should call her. I looked this person up on their website and saw that she had extensive experience with wild birds. I felt hope for the first time in a while. 

I called, got an appointment, and got Noel in. This experience was completely different from any other Noel and I had. She ordered blood work but she also listened carefully to what I was saying and experiencing. She concluded that he was definitely having seizures. She ordered x-rays and tested his blood for heavy metal toxicity, metabolic issues, and nutrition deficiencies. I cannot begin to describe how wonderful it was to be listened to, to be heard, and to have hope again. While all of Noel’s tests came back normal, she determined that Noel was experiencing Idiopathic Epilepsy. Idiopathic means that a specific cause hasn’t been determined. She told me that his poor diet in the past, the one with mostly sunflower seeds, likely contributed to his seizures but that there could be more going on. However, even though a specific cause couldn’t be nailed down, at least we could now move on and figure out a treatment for Noel.

Finally, Medication and Treatment

Noel was put on medication to help with his seizures. He was also given a prescription strength calcium supplement that has to be compounded in a pharmacy. I was also told to continue the UVA/UVB light for most of the day, something we had been doing for a while now. For 4 months, Noel was seizure free. He was still pretty restless at night, but no seizures that I noticed. He would still call to make sure I was in the room and I could hear him squirming around in his bed, but no more episodes for 4 months. Unfortunately, the medication that Noel was on can have what is often called a “honeymoon period” where it works really well for a while but then starts to lose efficacy. The vet had warned me about this and told me to call her if he started getting seizures again. When he did have another, I spent the rest of the night reading a study and looking up more information I had saved in the past. I’d remembered reading a study about an African grey exhibiting seizures that responded well to adding a couple of new medications to his current one when his seizures resumed. The study claimed that they could, when added, help improve the efficacy of the current seizure medication.

I called her first thing in the morning and spoke to her. I sent her the study I read that night, and when we spoke, I asked her opinion. She read it and was impressed with my suggestion - even jokingly asking if I needed a job. She decided that it made sense to add them to his current one and so we did. His new medication routine is rough. One has to be given every 8 hours, one every 12, and another every night before bed for the rest of Noel's life. This means waking up very early every day and planning all of my activities around his medication times. 

Since starting this new medication routine, Noel has not had a seizure. It doesn’t mean he never will again. However, he now has a markedly improved quality of life. He is also sleeping through the night now without squirming and calling out. My life has changed too. I can’t take vacations without taking Noel or plan day-long activities because of Noel’s medication schedule. My family and friends might think I’m nuts for all of my obsession and efforts, but I feel nothing but joy and gratitude to our new vet for taking us seriously. It takes a qualified veterinarian along with a parrot’s owner to work together in order to provide proper treatment. You can’t have one without the other, and I had found that missing piece.

What Noel Taught Me

Through everything, no matter how bad things got, Noel remained his sassy, fun, expressive self. After each episode, he would bounce back. He seemed tired the next day due to not getting enough sleep when it happened, but it didn’t change him. He lived each day completely in the moment - preening his cage mate, playing with his toys, and every evening he watched the sunset from the top of his cage with his foot tucked into his bald little chest. While I was freaking out and obsessing over what was happening, he was welcoming and saying goodbye to each day as he always had. Even after seizing, being poked, prodded, and stuck in x-ray machines. Even now after being bugged at 5am and woken up to eat for his medication. Many times, he just stands there as if to say “can we not do this right now?” but eventually appeases me so he can go back to living his life. 

I know one day I will have to say goodbye to Noel. This thought haunts me every single day. Not just about him, but all of my birds. It is so hard caring for and loving an animal that we know we will outlive. But my experience with Noel has taught me about sacrifice and perseverance. I know that the pain we feel when we lose them or watch them struggle is the sacrifice we make in order to give them the gift of living a life where they know love and comfort. Our experience with Noel’s epilepsy has been trying, but it's a sacrifice I would make over and over again. Noel lives each day in the moment and that's something I know I need to get better at. Not dwelling on a difficult day or worrying about the future, but just watching the sunset and enjoying the company of the ones I love.

If you take anything from Noel’s story - it’s to not give up. As long as you’re willing to put in the effort to improve their lives, don’t give up on the animals in your care. Even if they bite, scream or don’t let you pet them - and absolutely don’t give up on them when other people tell you you’re wrong - but you get that feeling in your gut that something isn’t right. They rely on us to keep them safe and healthy. We have to be their voices in this world, and if we don’t do it, who will?