Saving Chico

By Tammy A. Parker, DVM

When I work the occasional relief day (fill in at another clinic so their doctor can take a day off), I don’t expect the cases to follow me in physically or spiritually. Chico, a Peach-faced lovebird, was determined to do both. I had arrived that morning to a list of in-house cases and a full schedule. Chico was supposed to be a crop stasis case from a local bird store. He was doing well, but seemed to be filling up. Quickly, I emptied his crop and put him back in his cage as the first appointment arrived.

I checked on Chico a couple of hours later to find him filling up his crop again. Exasperated since this had been his third or fourth emptying since presentation, I again reviewed the records to see if I could add anything. We ordered lunch and I decided while I was in route, to empty Chico’s crop again and have lunch with him. Something kept nagging me that said we were all missing something. As we ate lunch, Chico gorged himself. He didn’t move from his bowl and got very fussy when I pulled it out to slow down his binging session.

The technician filled me in on Chico’s owners while we ate. Although he was at the clinic as a bird from the store, a lady who had gone out of town the day before owned him. The store owner, who often boarded the babies that she had sold, was very astute and noticed quickly that Chico was a little too buxom. She had left a message that Chico was in the hospital, but had not heard anything from his owner.

I decided to repeat the physical exam on Chico. This time, his crop held a lot of air and I felt more comfortable palpating it than with lots of food inside. As I edged closer to his clavicle (collarbone), I felt something doughy. Chico had not eaten his pellets that morning in favor of his sweet potatoes. I could only get a small feel, but what I was feeling was not sweet potatoes. As I tried to think of what I was feeling, my eyes came to rest on Chico’s cotton rope toy. It had been well shredded and the colored beads hung limply from it. COTTON! I called the store to explain my suspicions along with a retrieval plan and estimate, and all I needed was permission from the owner.

A few hours later, I finally spoke with the owner who was tired and overwhelmed from an intensive training course, and she wondered if this issue could wait until she got home in a few days. I tried to stress that two more days, for at least a total of three days, without food would probably leave her, at best, with a very sick bird, and at worst, with a victim of starvation. She promised to think about it and to get back to me the next day.

The next afternoon, the store owner called and eagerly asked, "How soon can you see Chico? He is my bird now." Apparently, she kept calling Chico’s owner and leaving messages until the lady gave Chico back to the store. The former owner had indicated such a small bird couldn’t need any treatment that cost more than he did! In an hour, Chico was in my surgery suite. The cotton, that I could only feel a small piece of the day before, felt larger now. As I opened a small hole into Chico’s crop, I grabbed the cotton and started pulling and pulling and pulling. We had what looked more like a large cat hairball than a few strands of cotton from a toy. Chico was stitched and very happy to return to the store.

I figured Chico was a success and gave him little thought until a couple of months later when I again spoke with the store owner. "We are having problems with Chico," she started. Chico had become the star of the store. He had been sold to three separate families who loved him; but apparently, once he realized he wasn’t returning to the store, he became Mr. Mouth. Each time when he was returned, he would enter the lovebird aviary, check out his food and friends, seeming to say, "Isn’t it GREAT to be home!"

©2000 Tammy A. Parker, DVM