Starting to write this story is like opening a memory that has accompanied me for years. It is awakening moments that filled my soul and made my childhood so happy. You came into my life unexpectedly and became the center of my little world when I was just 9 years old.
I clearly remember that January 12th, 2010, when you arrived in my arms as a gift from my father. At that moment, I didn’t know you would become my adventure companion, but when I saw you, I knew you would be very important to me. I won’t deny that I was filled with fear and anxiety when I saw how fragile you were—you were a little parrot, featherless, newly hatched, and stolen from your nest. At that time, in my young age, I didn’t understand the great harm that had been done to you by taking you from your natural habitat.
In La Guajira, where I grew up, it was very common to see people selling wild birds, especially members of the Wayuu community. Back then, there weren’t many laws protecting these birds from being captured and sold. However, I’m grateful that my father decided to rescue you from the people who had you caged. Even though this practice has gone on for years and should not be supported, I made a promise to myself to care for you and love you for as long as life would allow.
And so it was. But as we grew up together, I realized that it wasn’t right to keep you, that if I truly loved you, I had to let you go, let you grow in your own habitat. I thought about it constantly, and every time I did, my heart broke at the thought of never seeing you again. But the truth is, no matter how much I wanted it, I could never release you to live in the wild. Not because I didn’t want to, but because you wouldn’t have survived. When you came to me, you had a completely broken wing and a crooked leg, and I thought that with time you might recover, but the damage done to you when you were stolen was irreversible.
I never kept you in a cage; on the contrary, I always tried to let you live freely, without clipping your wings. I let you wander around the house with your little limp and climb the trees in the yard. My grandmother’s house was right next door, and you loved climbing her soursop tree every day. You’d spend the whole morning and afternoon singing and driving all the neighbors crazy with your loud calls. This caused a constant war between you and my grandma because you pecked at all her soursop fruits, but I always defended you. Despite that, my grandmother loved you as much as I did—and so did the rest of my family.
The name I gave you was Federico. That name marked my life forever because, unknowingly, you became my first love. Yes, you were and always will be my first love, forever and always. Because with you, I learned what it meant to love for the first time—madly and deeply—a little animal who, to me, was so much more than just a parrot. You were my everything: my accomplice, my confidant, my shoulder to cry on, my loyal friend. You were like a child who taught me what it meant to have responsibilities: waking up early to feed you, helping you climb the tree, playing with you, kissing you, and teaching you how to talk—which was one of the greatest joys of my life.
No one could understand the bond we formed, and I never tried to explain it, because even I didn’t have the exact words to describe something as immense as the connection and love I felt for you. When I was sad, you were too. When I couldn’t see you, I missed you—or you would come find me wherever I was. When I traveled, I took you with me. I simply couldn’t leave you behind. You were my emotional support, and even if people didn’t understand that, I never cared what they thought. I remember when the movie RIO came out—it made me so emotional, and I saw myself in Linda and Blu. You loved watching that movie and singing like crazy.
Usually, strong bonds with pets are associated with dogs or cats, but mine was with you, my little parrot. You pulled so many pranks like a dog would—ruining my shoes, toys, even schoolwork and notebooks—and later I wouldn’t know how to explain it to the teachers, because they wouldn’t believe it was a parrot and not a dog. There were so many joyful moments that filled my heart. I remember them as if they happened yesterday. I loved taking photos of you with an old phone my mom had—you were so beautiful with those green feathers like the leaves of a tree, your yellow head like the mangoes you loved to eat, and your black beak like the sunflower seeds I used to give you. And even though I have no pictures of you today, your image is still so vivid in my mind after all these years.
Exactly 12 years, 7 months, and 18 days have passed since you left this world and my heart broke completely. You came into my life to be my companion and to teach me so much. That afternoon, when I came home from school and went to see you as I did every day, I knew something was wrong. You had been sick for three days, and even though I took you to the vet, I held on to the hope that you would get better—but you didn’t. That morning of September 13th, 2012, when I got up to check on you, I saw right away that I was losing you. I held you in my arms, stroked you, and kept telling you how much I loved you while your eyes slowly faded away. And when they finally closed for good, I experienced the greatest pain I had ever felt in my entire life—at just 12 years old.
I had lost you, and I didn’t understand why. We had almost three years together, and I feel like we needed so much more time. Since then, I’ve been writing you letters so I’ll never forget you—this is one of them. It still hurts that I couldn’t keep my promise to take you to a sanctuary where you could live with other parrots.
After you were gone, I fell into such a deep depression that it felt like nothing could pull me out of that abyss. The house became silent and empty, and I felt lost without your presence. I promised myself that I would never again have a bird in my life, nor would I participate in the captivity of these beautiful and vibrant creatures. Your memory taught me to value freedom and nature, and I never wanted to feel the pain of losing someone I loved so deeply again.
Federico, you will always be in my heart.
With all my love,
Liz
P.S. I wrote this story with all my heart, drawing on the letters I used to write when I lost him and reliving memories I thought I had forgotten. As I wrote, tears streamed down my face as I remembered the happiest and most painful moments I shared with Federico. I hope you enjoy reading it with the same emotion and feeling I had while writing it. I would love for it to be well received and to be chosen as the winner. For me, spending time with parrots again would be a way to feel close to and heal that part of myself that died the day Federico left. Thank you for reading my story and allowing me to relive those moments with him.