We bought her at a wonderful pet store where many of the birds that are sold are hand-raised in the hatchery. We even knew her birthdate – 6/4/2000. We couldn’t adopt her until she was a certain number of weeks old, so every afternoon, Megan and I drove up to the store to spend time with Kali.
As she got older, we would move her cage and its stand outside every morning, beneath a large schefflera tree. Her cage door was always open and it wasn’t long before she learned to climb onto the top of the cage and then into the tree. She would climb down only when the spirit moved her to splash around in the large bowl we kept on top of her cage. Every evening at dusk, we moved her and the cage inside again. She would crawl inside her little hammock, roll onto her back, and sleep the night away. Kali was the paragon of embrace the moment.
2004 was a bad year for hurricanes in South Florida. During two hurricanes that hit our area, Rob, Megan and I brought all the animals in with us, into the back bedroom. As rain and wind pounded the hurricane shutters, as the power went off, as the streets started to flood, Kali was perfectly happy on top of her cage or huddled into the little cloth cocoon where she slept at night. But she was always delighted afterward to climb up into her tree in the back yard. And it was her tree. When other birds came around, she made it clear that although they were welcome, she was the boss of this tree.
The fall of 2005 was difficult. My dad died in September and a month later, Hurricane Wilma roared into town. Fortunately, Wilma was traveling fast, but she was intense. The front part of the storm tore apart back yards, hurled fences away, ripped down power lines, ripped off roofs. The eye of the storm passed right over our area and suddenly the sky turned blue, the air was balmy, the sun shone. We knew we had about 30 minutes to walk outside and access the damage before the back side of the storm hit us.
The first thing we noticed was that Kali’s tree had been split down the middle, the top of it lobbed off as if some monster had taken a huge bite out of it. In retrospect, I realize it freaked me out, which was why I didn’t take any photos of it. The tree had begun its life in my parents’ back yard and when we had moved, I’d dug it up and potted it and brought it with us.
There wasn’t much time to think about it. We cleaned up what we could and hurried inside as the back of the storm came at us.
Thirty minutes later, Wilma had moved on and a cold front swept in. No one had electricity and all over the neighborhood, generators were now chattering away. We put Kali outside near her tree, but it was apparent that she wasn’t happy about its ruined condition. Then something spooked her – a generator, one of us moving too fast or something, and suddenly she took off into the dusk, squawking loudly. We ran after her, thought we saw her perched on a pole, but then it got dark and she stopped squawking. We kept walking around the area, calling for her, but she didn’t squawk back, didn’t appear.
It got down into the 40s that night and I worried about her out there, in the cold. The next morning, Rob found her across the street, burrowed under some wet leaves, shivering. Not a single vet office was open, we were helpless and just tried to keep her warm. She died a day later, laying on my chest. In some way, the ruin of her tree presaged her death. And because that tree had been born in my parents’ back yard, it also closed a chapter in my own life.
We buried her under the tree. About a year later, we noticed the tree was recovering. Where it had been split in half, leaves were sprouting on both sides of the split. Now, five years later, the tree has fully recovered. I hope it means that Kali and perhaps my dad, in some new form, may be on their way back to us.
A wonderful story that put a beautiful smile on my face, and on my heart, too. 😀 ♥
Thanks for sharing the Kali tree story again, especially with the new growth five years later.
Hi Marguerite – both Rob and I do the dailies. We love you Virgos! Here's hoping the oil spill gets straightened out before Mercury turns direct again on May 11!
Beautiful story! Hey Trish, I just realized that you are the author of the Sydney Omarr's Day-by Day Astrological Guide! I've been using it (the Virgo book), for years and I just want to thank you so much for all of your wonderful insights and guidance! You are right on, and I plan all of my travel with it, as well. Merci beaucoup!
Kali liked those showers under the sink, too, and would occasionally steal tastes of our daughter's coffee yogurt. Birds with personalities and attitudes: how can you not love them?
That's a beautiful story! I love birds, as I think they are some of the quirkiest animals around. Its always fun to watch their personalities. My friend's conure loves to drink Sunny D in the mornings and shower under the faucet in the sink.
At a Hare Krishna temple in Utah, I was mesmerized by the parrot because it walked like a rap star and had an attitude. He knew he was a cool cat…er, bird!
Our dog and our cats! Good memory, Vicki!
Isn't your dog in your time travel novels? Seemed I recognized that and it made me smile.
Rob and Trish,I love this story.So may beautiful connections.Thank you.
Our connections to plants and animals is an endless source of fascination. Butternut's very old geranium, gypsy's spider plant, vicki's snake plant. DJan – conures are supposed to live as long as parrots, but we were happy to have Kali for five years.
I've used Kali in a couple of my novels, so I figure she is now immortalized!
What a sweet story. I do wish Kali had survived the storm. But like the tree, she and your father live on in a new form. I truly believe that.
oh, what an incredibly beautiful story on so many levels – i had cold chills just reading it – and you know, trish, i can see miss kali right now, sitting on your dad's shoulder, chirping away as he smiles – it's so true about out connection with other living things – all living things, isn't it? i love the symbolism in the tree and it's literal rebirth – and your story reminds me of what little alejandro said the other day – he's almost four years old now – a child with an old spirit – anyway, he and his mom were coming home and passed a new construction site where still more land is being ripped apart, trees chopped and cut down, to build, you guessed it, another strip mall – alejandro was looking out the window and said "oh mommie the trees are sad!!! they're crying!!" lisa asked what he meant and he said "they're all sad and crying because they're broken and hurt" – out of the mouths of babes!
several years ago i spent a year in a little beach front cottage where the former resident had actually died in bed – when i moved in, some of his personal belongings were still there as his family had long since deserted him, even in his terminal illness – in any event, one of the things left behind was a very small little "spider" plant – it was just a few inches big and dead for all intents and purposes as it had not been tended at all in months – but i couldn't bear to throw it out – so i repotted it and sat on my kitchen window ledge – six years later, the "dead" plant is in a big pot in the dining room keeping two ponytail palms company – and it is several feet long – the beautiful legacy of the man deserted by his own family –
great post, macgregors!!! and beautifully told!
Kali sounds like she was a lovely little soul, thank you for sharing that story. I am sure you can still feel her lying on your chest.
Maybe your Dad and Kali are sitting together in that tree watching over you. It sounds like they all shared a gentle and loving nature.
Those little souls really capture our hearts forever.
In regards to plants and trees, we kept one of the many plants given to us when each of our daughters were born and they are still going strong. One was a snake plant and I've repotted and made other plantings from it so many times in fact I think I have to make another planting out of it.
Again, thank you for the gentle and loving post of Kali.
My sister and I have cuttings from a geranium that belonged to our great great grandmother. There is something holy about this living connection to our past. I am glad your tree came back.
I love this story, except for the loss of Kali. She was really special and I agree that she was connected to the tree in some way. A friend of mine has a parrot that he's had for twenty years, and I've seen how strong their relationship is. They are wonderful creatures. Thank you for sharing Kali with me.
A lovely story about Kali. Animals and the like become so much of the family. I hope Kali (and your dad)may be with you again, in some way, soon.