Shaharazaad's nephew has a new tweet-heart. But it left her feeling sick as a parrot...
Stretching out my palm, a flash of bright green flew towards the seeds in my hand.
‘There you go,’ I smiled, as Jack, my Eclectus parrot, pecked away happily.
For the past six years, I’d shared my life and home with this intelligent and gentle feathery friend.
He was part of the family, and my six kids loved him just as much as I did.
I was a single mum, so Jack was like my other half.
There was never a dull moment when he was about, making us laugh with some of the words he would come out with.
Then, one day my nephew, Zubair, texted me with some exciting news.
He had bought his own pet bird.
It’s an eight-week-old sulphur-crested cockatoo, he messaged.
He’d gone to a pet shop with his boss, who was buying an Electus parrot.
Zubair had only gone in to browse and hadn’t intended on buying a bird, but ending up coming home with his own little cutie, named Frank.
My nephew hadn’t owned a bird before and quickly had to get up to speed on how to care for one.
Would you mind looking after Frank while I’m at work? he messaged one evening.
Of course, I replied. Bring him around tomorrow morning.
I knew Jack the parrot would get on well with a cockatoo, so we agreed for Frank to stay at mine over the next few days.
‘Thanks for this, Auntie,’ Zubair said, as he dropped off Frank.
The moment I clapped eyes on his fluffy face, I instantly fell in love,
‘The only thing is, he’s been pooing quite a lot, but I think it’s cause he’s a baby,’ Zubair continued.
'I think you need to go to hospital'
Over the next hour, I got to know Frank, only, he seemed quite lethargic.
And as he sat on the perch with Jack, I noticed that he was missing quite a few feathers.
There’s something not quite right with this bird, I thought, clocking his clouded eyes.
And just like Zubair mentioned, he was pooping a lot too.
‘Not again,’ I sighed, finding more bird droppings splattered on the floor.
Over the next few days, I spent most of my time going around the house checking all the poo was picked up.
When Zubair came to collect Frank, I couldn’t help but feel relieved.
‘I hope his tummy settles soon,’ I said.
Shutting the door, I looked forward to relaxing in my house again.
Only, the next day I woke up feeling sick.
Putting my hand to my forehand, I realised I was burning up.
‘I must be coming down with something,’ I said to the kids.
But I wasn’t the only one in a bad way.
My nephew told me he felt ill too.
‘I’m achy and have a fever,’ he groaned down the phone.
‘There must be something going around,’ I replied.
Over the next few days, I started to feel more unwell_._
My temperature hadn’t gone down and I was scared.
‘I think you need to go to hospital Mum,’ my son, Ebrahim, said.
Once I got there, my temperature was more than 38 degrees.
I was diagnosed with pneumonia, and given a course of antibiotics to help clear up the infection.
Slipping in and out of consciousness, I felt like death.
Doctors took an X-ray of my chest.
‘Your lungs are 80 per cent filled with fluid,’ a doctor said.
I was at risk of drowning in my own bodily fluids.
I was terrified.
‘What can we do?’ I shrieked.
‘We need to find out what has made you sick,’ he replied.
I racked my brain but couldn’t think of anything.
Then, the doctor asked me a question.
‘Have you got any pets,’ he asked.
‘I’ve got a bird, a parrot,’ I said. ‘But I’ve had him for six years and he’s fine.’
Then, it hit me.
‘I looked after my nephew’s poorly cockatoo,’ I blurted. ‘My nephew’s been unwell too!’
‘Bingo!’ he said. ‘We’re going to give you an antibiotic that deals specifically with a bird disease called Psittacosis.’
‘Psitta… what?’ I asked.
'Your lungs are permanently scarred'
He explained psittacosis — also known as parrot fever — was an infectious disease caused by a bacterium called chlamydia psittaci, which could be transmitted from infected birds to humans.
I couldn’t believe that a bird had landed me in intensive care, leaving me fighting for my life. Talk about feeling under the feather!
I recoiled as I remembered giving him a kiss on the beak — that peck on his pecker had put me in A&E!
The new course of antibiotics was administered and slowly, my body responded.
But it wasn’t a complete success.
After nine days in hospital, I was still short of breath, and felt so weak.
I had a demanding role as a disability support worker, and was used to being active and doing a lot of lifting — now I could hardly get out of bed.
‘Unfortunately, psittacosis can cause long-term damage,’ the doctor explained after a scan. ‘Your lungs are permanently scarred.’
Eventually I was discharged, but came home to even more bad news.
My parrot Jack had caught the same disease, and was at the vet.
‘He’ll probably need to be put down,’ the vet warned.
I was heartbroken. But then a miracle happened.
‘He’s recovering,’ said the vet.
To my relief, he pulled through.
Luckily, my nephew hadn’t been as seriously ill as me.
‘By the time I found out Frank had a disease, I’d already sold him to someone else,’ Zubair said regrettably. ‘I couldn’t cope with looking after him.’
On the day I was admitted to hospital, the new owner had got back in touch and told Zubair that Frank had sadly died.
But we had a question — had the shop knowingly sold my nephew a poorly bird?
And if so, how many other sick birds might be out there?
That really would be a case of fowl play, I thought.
I’d nearly died, and didn’t want the same thing happening to someone else.
So, I contacted an investigative news channel, who interviewed the owner of the pet shop.
‘I am so sorry,’ he said to the camera. ‘If I knew of anything like that, I wouldn’t have given it to you.’
I was just happy others had been warned about this deadly disease.
But, after the episode aired, I was upset to see negative comments posted under the video on Facebook.
First thing I do when I adopt a new pet is take them to the vet, one criticised.
Even when she admitted that it didn’t look right, she just palmed it off, another said.
I couldn’t believe it. Why was I be treated like a villain?
Now, since having psittacosis, I’m not the same person.
I get out of breath easily and have had no choice but to quit my job.
I’m struggling to keep afloat financially.
I just hope my story will sound an alarm bell, and make people think twice before bringing home a shop-bought bird.
Always wash your hands after handling a bird, and don’t ever kiss your avian allies.
They may look cute and cuddly, but they could be carrying a deadly disease.
Psittacosis can be fatal, to both humans and birds.
If you’d have told me a little birdie would put me in hospital for nine days, I’d have thought you were cuckoo.
But now I know that it’s no laughing matter.
Shaharazaad Gafoor, 49