A Miracle in the Wings

By Tammy A. Parker, DVM

Tammy A. Parker, DVM is a 1993 graduate of the University of Georgia College of Veterinary Medicine. Currently employed at Loving Hands Animal Clinic in Alpharetta, Georgia (a suburb of Atlanta), Dr. Parker is responsible for exotic animal medicine and surgery. She acts as an advisor for the Georgia Department of Agriculture and volunteers her skills at the Chattahoochee Nature Center Wildlife Clinic. She is an active member of the Association of Avian Veterinarians.

When I entered the exam room, I could smell the unmistakable odor of decay. I briefly wondered what might have been in the room before my patient...perhaps a cat fight abscess or rotten teeth.... but turned my attention quickly to the very dainty and prim older lady in front of me. She was the picture of elegance and held a white plastic box that seemed more suited to sweater storage than the storage of a cockatiel my schedule assured me would be in it. The lady offered a greeting and then her eyes filled with tears. Her cockatiel, Ava, was eighteen and had been in perfect health until the past week. Years before, Ava had been at the University teaching hospital for eye problems, but she thrived after that.

Ava had free flight in her owner’s home. The lady confided that her husband had never been very happy to find bird droppings in surprising places, but had given in to her assertion that Ava, and later her companion Clark, needed flight exercise. The lady could not bear to have her children in cages.

I tried to point out, gently I hoped, that birds sometimes managed to get in trouble free flying in a human house. I wondered what Ava might have eaten, run into, or otherwise encountered that would be my current problem.

As I pulled Ava out, I saw a very angry pearly whose wing did not quite lay flat against her body. More importantly, the smell of decay I had noted on entering the room tripled and became an overpowering presence. Thinking, "This is not good," I pulled the left wing out and this enormous white ball greeted me. I cleaned the mass with gauze. Half of the mass was the dry pus of birds. Spicules ran down into a fleshy pink tissue at least as large as a quarter in diameter. Ava’s body wasn’t yet incorporated into this mass, but was perilously close.

My options for Ava were few. We could biopsy and be sure of a diagnosis and consider amputation, or we could go ahead and amputate. She looked shocked. I felt maybe I had not been delicate enough and was desperately trying to think of something else to say. To my surprise, she suddenly looked up in relief and said, "She isn’t going to die?" I tried to explain that with her age and possible underlying problems, I couldn’t say "NO" one hundred percent, but we didn’t have a lot of choices. The mass was growing rapidly and infection alone would have already done in some birds. Ava was a fighter.

Ava’s mom decided to get a biopsy and we would schedule surgery in one week. In the meantime, Ava got the benefit of antibiotics. She did not look pleased.

Surgery day finally arrived and Ava looked brighter and the mass looked larger. The biopsy had assured me the mass was a squamous cell carcinoma. If I could get it all, Ava likely would have no recurrence of the problem. The metastatic rate is low with these cancers. The owner and I had spent many days prior, agonizing over her decision. She wasn’t sure it was fair to take Ava’s flight. Although I could not be sure she would be the same bird in attitude, I could not offer much more. Over half of the wing was involved.

Surgery went beautifully and I was pleased with the result. When Ava awoke, she almost immediately began fussing and eating...and she even managed to bite me as I transferred her to the emergency clinic for overnight care.

Ava went home the next day, and it only took a week to figure how to "rule her roost" again. Her mate had even been effectively grounded. Seems Ava did not appreciate his showing off.

A month after surgery I received a message that Ava’s wing was growing back. Anxiously, I waited to see her, afraid the mass was growing back again. It wasn’t. One primary feather follicle had not been excised and its re-growth gives Ava the appearance of a short wing. "It’s a miracle!" her mom declared. "Yes, she is," I agreed heartily.

©2000 Tammy A. Parker, DVM