Mizzely
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As many of you have seen already in the warning thread I posted, my Hahns left this world yesterday. At the time it was more important to me to get a warning out than it was to post a thread celebrating Gizmo.
It's hard for me to put into words how much this bird meant to me. Not that I loved Jingo and Koopa less, but before Gizmo came, I remained steadfast that above all else, I was a cat person. Gizmo shook my belief on that. There was something about her, a radiance and wisdom, that I simply can't describe. You had to meet her to really know how truly special she was. In hindsight, maybe the red feathers on her tummy were simply an outpouring of her personality that couldn't be contained within her. Those feathers were as unique as she was, as bright as her curious eyes shined, and as colorful on the outside as she was on the inside. The "fire belly" nickname that she acquired really embodies so much more than a coloration.
When I took her in, I expected a hands off bird that would stay at arms length for many years. Instead, within three days, she flew over to me and landed on my face. I initially was terrified that she would bite me with that "giant" beak, but instead she settled down onto my shoulder like she just knew that was where she belonged. From that day in November onward, she firmly believed that we should never be separated. She trusted me without having a reason to - she took a literal leap of faith that I have admired since. I used that trust to work with her and by the end she was able to use natural perches, play with toys, and even greet new people (including men!) without her normal panicking. She was a bird transformed. Reborn. Maybe the "fire belly" signified the phoenix she really was.
There really never be another bird in this world like Gizmo. I feel that she taught me more about trust and love, about living life and picking yourself back up regardless of what the world has thrown at you, than anyone, human or animal, has ever taught me before. In her I found strength when I thought I had none left. In her I found happiness when I thought I had run out. In her I found patience I didn't know I had. As much as I taught her, I think she was the real teacher in our relationship.
I don't know what happens when we die. My hope is that we are reincarnated. My hope is that Gizmo taught me what she was supposed to, and she will move on to another life, to select a new pupil.
Jingo screams like her. He mimics her "mwah" and her "woop". It's both haunting and comforting when he does it now.
We buried her next to a small oak tree chose to grow not out of the ground, but out of an old stump. It reminded me of Gizmo and how even though she'd been "cut down" so many times in her past, she grew again each time, strong and determined like this oak tree one day will be.
The "woop" on her rock was what she said when she needed to be reassured. I would "woop" back and she would trust that things were okay. I think this time, though, the woop is more for my benefit than for hers. I need her to know that someday, somehow, I will be okay.
We buried her with the last Fred's Forager toy we ever got from CBT, since it was her absolute favorite toy. She also has her IGAW perch with her name on it, and a bunch of millet and almonds.
I've made my Gizmo album on Facebook public so anyone, even without an account, can see them. I invite you to scroll through and remember her with me.
Gizmo "Fire Belly" | Facebook
It's hard for me to put into words how much this bird meant to me. Not that I loved Jingo and Koopa less, but before Gizmo came, I remained steadfast that above all else, I was a cat person. Gizmo shook my belief on that. There was something about her, a radiance and wisdom, that I simply can't describe. You had to meet her to really know how truly special she was. In hindsight, maybe the red feathers on her tummy were simply an outpouring of her personality that couldn't be contained within her. Those feathers were as unique as she was, as bright as her curious eyes shined, and as colorful on the outside as she was on the inside. The "fire belly" nickname that she acquired really embodies so much more than a coloration.
When I took her in, I expected a hands off bird that would stay at arms length for many years. Instead, within three days, she flew over to me and landed on my face. I initially was terrified that she would bite me with that "giant" beak, but instead she settled down onto my shoulder like she just knew that was where she belonged. From that day in November onward, she firmly believed that we should never be separated. She trusted me without having a reason to - she took a literal leap of faith that I have admired since. I used that trust to work with her and by the end she was able to use natural perches, play with toys, and even greet new people (including men!) without her normal panicking. She was a bird transformed. Reborn. Maybe the "fire belly" signified the phoenix she really was.
There really never be another bird in this world like Gizmo. I feel that she taught me more about trust and love, about living life and picking yourself back up regardless of what the world has thrown at you, than anyone, human or animal, has ever taught me before. In her I found strength when I thought I had none left. In her I found happiness when I thought I had run out. In her I found patience I didn't know I had. As much as I taught her, I think she was the real teacher in our relationship.
I don't know what happens when we die. My hope is that we are reincarnated. My hope is that Gizmo taught me what she was supposed to, and she will move on to another life, to select a new pupil.
Jingo screams like her. He mimics her "mwah" and her "woop". It's both haunting and comforting when he does it now.
We buried her next to a small oak tree chose to grow not out of the ground, but out of an old stump. It reminded me of Gizmo and how even though she'd been "cut down" so many times in her past, she grew again each time, strong and determined like this oak tree one day will be.
The "woop" on her rock was what she said when she needed to be reassured. I would "woop" back and she would trust that things were okay. I think this time, though, the woop is more for my benefit than for hers. I need her to know that someday, somehow, I will be okay.
We buried her with the last Fred's Forager toy we ever got from CBT, since it was her absolute favorite toy. She also has her IGAW perch with her name on it, and a bunch of millet and almonds.
I've made my Gizmo album on Facebook public so anyone, even without an account, can see them. I invite you to scroll through and remember her with me.
Gizmo "Fire Belly" | Facebook
May the days ahead bring you peace and may Gizmo's next pupil be as open to her wisdom as you were. 
I'm so sorry for your loss. Fly free Gizmo. 
Ever since I lost my own little girly Hahn's Mattie to an accidental death, I've been crazy about seeing Gizmo and any others that people were willing to post pics about. It leaves a hole that's never filled. And, that unique coloring on yours. Just looking at her fascinated me, and I wondered (shame on me 
) what her babies would look like if she ever had any 
She was one in a million, Shawna, and that's the truth. 
