It's hard-won progress---but I think the results are more valuable than those gained with a hand-fed just-weaned baby who freely trusts, loves and learns.
My TAG will be 13 this year, we've been together seven years (I'm 21) and I'm always happy and proud when people don't realize she's a 'rescue bird' until I mention it.
The general public always has this perception that somehow secondhand birds will always be second-rate companions, always with issues or cantakerous or phobic birds that will come some way but never overcome their pasts and are gingerly treated with kid gloves as imperfect but pitied. That they'll never be as good as a hand-fed baby. The truth is the potential for healing is there so long as we never give up on them and abandon them like so many others before.
She came to me way of my father's irresponsible 'i want a cool talking parrot but don't wanna pay the money for it' desires. He found her through one of the guys on his construction crew (who's lets just say was a 'questionable' character prone to much drinking and drug use). The man's wife (a woman of the same caliber with whom he had many drunken altercations...including one where she stabbed him with a fork

) was getting rid of Jacko.
I met Jacko in a smoke-filled dark basement, alone in a rusted out cage with only a cockatiel bell. She opened the door, and pried Jacko kicking and screaming out of the cage and put her onto a fan where I picked her up---I knew right then and there I needed to get her out of there.
So, a few days later, the crackheads dropped her off in an empty beer case, with all her meagerly possessions and that was that. She was terrified of hands and would put her head down for scritches as self-defense, wouldn't step up, was petrified of anything new (we tried to replace her gross worn out dowels and she clung to the top of the cage and growled for two days), wouldn't play...nothing. Her wings were clipped so she fell like a stone and her nails so long her toes didn't touch the ground at all, plus she'd been plucking bald spots on herself for probably her whole life. She originally had been purchased for a family member of theirs as christmas gift, and then two years later was chucked back at their house.
Seven years later she sleeps by my bed, flies pretty well, steps-up, wears a harness because she *loves* riding in the car, plays with anything and everything and eats a well-balanced diet. She also plays fetch, has almost normal length nails and has molted out a good number of the dirty brown feathers she had and is afraid of almost nothing.
All this whole tale to say, it does take time, but they do come around

---as long as we have the patience to help them unpack their baggage and deal with it.
