And then disaster struck in the form of my retinal detachment. For the next couple of months, we were extremely busy visiting hospitals, and I was mostly confined to bed. I was instructed to lie face down for sixteen hours a day, with only nighttime offering the relief of proper sleep.

A major portion of my wife’s attention naturally shifted towards taking care of me, but she still managed to provide adequate care for the birds. After my surgery and the devastating confirmation that it had failed, concerns began to arise. Some of our friends and family expressed worries that the birds might spread infections, and given my weakened condition, it was suggested that we reconsider keeping them.

After much serious discussion, my wife reluctantly agreed to part with the birds, but she had one condition: they must be given to someone who shared our love for birds, and not sold. Around this time, an auto driver showed great interest in taking care of them. After some verification, we handed over the entire cage with all the birds to him, free of cost. He took them with joy, and we hoped the birds enjoyed their new home.

We missed them dearly. We had often watched the birds teaching their babies how to fly and observed their playful and nurturing behavior. All these lively moments were suddenly gone, and the absence of their cheerful presence cast a gloom over us. But we had to move on.

Our crows continued to visit, but my eye condition, the arrival of our son, and our subsequent trip to the USA helped us to cope and move forward.

Continued in 84. Gardens, Crows, and Finches - Sound and Color - Part 4