This weekend, we said goodbye to one of our little zebra finches, Hermione. In many ways, it wasn’t a surprise. She has slowed down considerably in the past six months, and in recent weeks we have wondered how much time she might have.
When we woke up on Sunday, she had passed away. In a way, I was relieved because we didn’t want her to suffer. But I was sorry to see her go. She has brought us so much joy.
Hermione was a lovely little bird, a sweet partner to her mate, Ron, and a good mother to their two children, Lisa and Bart—who hatched about three months after we got Ron and Hermione. The finch family of four delighted us in so many ways at a time when the pandemic inspired so much anxiety and uncertainty.
The finches were a bright spot during that time, reminding us that life continues even when it feels the walls are closing in. Our pandemic pets carried us through that time with their vibrant personalities and their chaotic interactions. They were the backdrop for many of my Zoom calls, and my colleagues asked repeatedly about the finches.
At a certain point, Hermione forgot that the little birds she had hatched were her children—that’s just how nature works. But she and her daughter shared a cage for years as friends, skirmishing a bit in the feisty way finches do, but mostly just being together, grooming each other.
Throughout it all, Hermione was a good mother and partner and pet. She didn’t ask for much. She gave plenty to her family—human and finch. She happily jumped around the cage and called out in the morning with her characteristic “meep” to tell the other finches she was awake—and to let me know she was ready for breakfast. She loved her swing almost as much as she loved her food. And we loved her.
Zebra finches live for about five to seven years, and Hermione lived almost five years with us. We don’t know how old she was when she came into our lives; the vet had guessed she was at least six months old—and she could have been older. (She leaves behind Ron and Bart, since Lisa predeceased her last fall.)
But Hermione had a good little life. I’m not sure how many pet birds in captivity can say they hatched and raised children, but she did. She made her mark on our little corner of the world, and I’ll always be grateful she was ours.
When the babies hatched, I truly felt that God had given us the most extraordinary gift, these two tiny baby finches that we never asked for and never expected. It all started with Ron and Hermione, that pair of finches our son just knew were ours when we saw them in the pet store.
I am not a theologian, and I don’t know what happens to finches when they die. But I know God creates them for a reason—and I imagine he takes them home to himself. Who wouldn’t want to have finches flitting and chirping and looking at the world with curiosity and wonder?
“My sweet little sisters, birds of the sky, you are bound to heaven, to God, your Creator. In every beat of your wings and every note of your songs, praise him,” St. Francis of Assisi said in his sermon to the birds.
And so we praise God with gratitude, wondering at the gift these tiny creatures have been to us—and trusting that they go back to God in some way.
