Flicky passed on 8th March 2023. Ohhh, little Flicky. Ten days isn’t very long, but I grew so fond of her. She spent much of that time resting and laying eggs, and I’m glad I was able to keep her company.

The night before, she still seemed to have plenty of energy. I was getting ready to sleep when Flicky decided it was a wonderful time to start exploring the branches again. I couldn’t tell whether she was looking for somewhere to feed, somewhere to rest or another suitable place to lay eggs, but she was certainly keeping me awake.

I’d been leaving the enclosure open overnight for a couple of nights, and she’d shown no real interest in leaving it. I kept wondering whether this would be the night she’d decide to go wandering. Instead she seemed determined to climb around the branches while I tried to get her settled.

I ended up helping her move from one branch to another, encouraging her to turn around and climb back towards the bottom. She was still remarkably active, although getting her to go where I wanted was another matter entirely. At one point she started walking backwards instead of turning around, which earned her a comparison with a crab.

There were still signs of possible egg-laying behaviour as the night went on. I thought I could make out another little cut in a branch, although I didn’t want to turn the lights up and disturb her. It was around 12:30 am by the time I was watching her again, and I told myself I’d have another look later in the morning.

Sadly, that was to be our last night together.

By morning, Flicky had passed away. After all the feeding, climbing, egg laying and generally keeping me busy, she’d finally come to the end of her little life. I’d known that was going to happen sooner rather than later, but knowing something is coming doesn’t make it particularly easy.

As the sun came up, I found myself looking at the beautiful blue sky and thinking about the time we’d spent together. I thanked her for that time and told her I’d do my best with her offspring. I couldn’t promise perfection, but I’d certainly give those eggs a chance.

“One final sunrise.”

Her young are in good hands. I’ll do everything I can to give those eggs a chance to hatch and the tiny nymphs a chance to reach the soil. Goodbye, little Flicky. 🥲

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