Toben came in as a baby squeaker — tiny, both legs fractured, completely wrung out. He was fragile in the way that makes you hold your breath. But he survived!
Tanami was found under a tree in a park, swollen and bruised, one eye gone. She wasn’t in crisis mode. She was just very, very done — folded into herself, waiting for something quieter and safer than whatever had just happened to her.
They healed at the same time, in the same space, and somewhere in that process they found each other. It wasn’t a moment. It was just the slow accumulation of being near someone who wasn’t going to make things harder.
Toben is gentle and still a little careful with himself. Tanami navigates the world on one eye with a steadiness that takes a minute to appreciate. Together they’re calm, unhurried, and clearly better for each other’s company.
They need a quiet home — no chaos, no unpredictability, nothing that asks them to move faster than they’re ready to. Someone who understands that both birds have come a long way already, and deserve somewhere soft to finish the job. They kept going. They just need a loving place to land.
