The Plumery team has seen more than our fair share of neglect—malnutrition, hoarding, homes overtaken by filth and feces. We are not strangers to hard rescues.

But the call we received on January 28, 2026—about two Amazon parrots in dire condition—did not prepare us for what we encountered when we arrived.

Their names are Atlas and Echo.

Atlas is a blue-fronted Amazon in his 20s.
Echo is a lilac-crested Amazon in her 30s.

They were left behind when their owner was hospitalized and discovered to be terminally ill. How long the birds were alone is unclear—but when the owner’s best friends entered the house, they found a scene that still haunts us.

The house was cold, as if the heat had been turned off entirely. It was dark—no sunlight, no warmth. Dust coated everything, mixed with rat feces. The cages were rusted, filthy, and falling apart. Perches were so worn and thick they were impossible for Amazon toes to grip. Tray liners overflowed with feces, food, feathers—piled so high they pushed up through the cage bars like tiny, toxic volcanoes.

The water bowls contained liquid the color of lime gelatin, floating with feathers and dander. The food bowls were crusted with stale pellets stuck to the sides. No fresh food. No clean water. No enrichment. No human interaction.

Their cages were positioned so Atlas and Echo couldn’t even see one another.

They were alive—but only barely.
They were existing in isolation. In silence. In neglect.

A healthy blue-fronted Amazon typically weighs around 450 grams. Atlas weighed 299 grams—151 grams underweight.
A healthy lilac-crested Amazon typically weighs around 325 grams. Echo weighed 252 grams—73 grams underweight.

One team member described their bodies as having severely sunken chests. When Atlas was carried out, she said it felt like holding nothing at all. “Light as a feather” doesn’t come close.

And yet—despite everything—these birds responded when we arrived. They looked at us. They moved. They knew something had changed.

Atlas and Echo are now hospitalized and receiving intensive care. Before transport, our team carefully began fluids and nutritional support so we could give our avian veterinarian as much information as possible to begin treatment immediately. The goal is simple and enormous: keep them alive long enough to heal.

So far, medical care has already exceeded $5,000, and ongoing hospitalization and treatment will cost thousands more.

We want to share something important: Atlas and Echo are in full plumage. They had not begun self-mutilating. We believe their owner loved them—and that illness and isolation made it impossible to care for them, or even ask for help. This is the quiet tragedy of shrinking social circles: when life collapses, living beings can fall through the cracks.

Atlas and Echo almost did.

We are doing everything in our power to make sure they didn’t fall too far.

Your donation will help cover:

• Emergency hospitalization and diagnostics

• Nutritional rehabilitation and fluid therapy

• Ongoing avian veterinary care

• The long road from survival to recovery

Please help us give Atlas and Echo the chance they were denied—for warmth, for care, for dignity, and for a future.

We hope we were there in time.