Unwanted Birds – Problems and Solutions
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Problem cockatoos
If angels decided to turn into birds, they would choose to be cockatoos, but cockatoos don’t make easy pets. They need space, they are noisy and destructive, and if hand-reared, they crave constant human attention. That said, almost five years ago, I fell in love with Perdy, a year-old hand-reared Lesser Sulphur-crested hen. She had been reared as a pet by an experienced breeder, given toys and flight time, and was a delightful, non-clingy bird. I intended to find a mate, but was dissuaded when I looked into the fate of so many cockatoos. I discovered a seamy underworld of birds thrust onto the market with neurotic behaviour, feather plucking, screaming and biting.
In a couple of sanctuaries in my region, I met cockatoos that are completely maladjusted to living in captivity. On the web, I saw poignant pictures of birds with their plastic collars, apathetic prisoners in bare cages, who are shunted from home to home. Rosemary Low has written tellingly of the over-production of cockatoos who are cuddly babies, but are too demanding as sexually mature birds to be managed in an average caregiver’s home. The solution then presented itself to acquire a female companion for Perdy, and at the same time give a second hand bird a chance
Lily’s arrival
Once we’d decided not to set Perdy up in a breeding situation, I wanted a female of the same species, because I believe captive birds are happier with one of their own species.
The first one I heard of was unable to fly, so would be unsuitable; any non-flighted bird could be bullied both inside the house and in the aviary. Numerous male cockatoos were on offer – relinquished for a variety of reasons – but in the main, for screaming and biting or mate killing.
I got in touch with Maddy and Andy from the Society for Conservation in Aviculture (SCA) near Cambridge (UK), where Lily, aged 13, a Lesser Sulphur-crested Cockatoo, had lived in the sanctuary for nine months. Although badly plucked on shoulders and legs, and sometimes noisy, she was deemed suitable for rehoming. The SCA had little information as to why her previous owners had relinquished her.
Maddy brought Lily to our house on a month’s trial. Could we cope with screaming, and would Artha and Casper accept another bird indoors? They had accepted Perdy, but had got used to her in the aviary the previous July.
Now it was October and the pet birds were indoors until the spring.
We entered the conservatory with tea tray and biscuits. Maddy opened the crate door; Lily poked her head out. I put out my hand. Lily lunged and bit – not hard. What a stupid mistake; I should have let Lily walk out by herself.
In the evenings, the indoor birds are brought from the conservatory into the house for social time. If Lily were to settle here happily, she’d have to learn to step up and be carried. She’d have to accept living indoors with three flighted, generally uncaged birds and accept occasional family and friends’ visits. In summer she’d have to adjust to living out of doors with some 20 aviary birds which are mostly rescues and rehomes – a tough task for a bird that appeared flightless and cage bound.
Early days
My naïve hope that Perdy would immediately recognize Lily as a same species cockatoo – I envisaged a sort of elder sister relationship – was soon dashed. Perdy chased Lily off the play stands. So did Artha and Casper. Although Lily was full-winged, her muscles were weak. When Perdy or Artha chased her off a perch, she’d flutter to the floor. Once at a distance from them, they did not chase or bite her. This gave me hope that the four of them would learn if not friendship, then at least coexistence. Perdy, reared as she had been in a bird room with many companions, had had no problem in slotting into our routines, but Lily showed little interest in other birds and only wanted human interaction.
I decided to let Lily stay in the conservatory. A broad-stemmed philodendron grows in a large tub. Lily spent her first few days hiding amongst the leaves of this capacious plant. What had upset Lily so much in her past life – badly enough to make her pull out so many feathers? And would she stop in her new home?
Lily in the early days stayed watchful, wherever I placed her. The only activity that she appeared to solicit and enjoy was having her head rubbed. Within a day she bonded to me and wanted nothing more than to stay on my arm or shoulder. She showed no notion of accepting any treat from my hand. Left alone with the three birds in the conservatory, she’d hide in her philodendron tub. She’d no notion of toys, but would chew a short stick. Although she made no intentional flights, Lily crawled up to the canopy of branches in the conservatory. Casper ignored her. Artha chased her off a perch, but did not follow. Lily would shiver her wings when she saw me, but never try to fly down. Her only vocabulary was “Hello, Lily,” in a squeaky voice.
Vet visits
Since Lily came from a well-run sanctuary, I’d no health or quarantine worries. “Let her settle in for a month before a visit,” our vet advised. I practised putting her into the travel crate and letting her walk out. Lily never flew by choice. It was sad to watch her static behaviour compared with the other three. The only flights she took were in avoidance of another bird.
At the vets she would not stand on the scale, so was weighed in a basket – at 320 grams not seriously underweight. The vet thought it unlikely there would be much new feather growth as follicles had been destroyed. Oh, and she flew to his shoulder and bit his neck. Luckily, he is an understanding man.
Two weeks later we visited the vet again, simply to get her used to different environments. What a difference! No obvious signs of stress – a bold step up onto the scale perch and no bites. Best of all, she had gained 20 grams. ‘She’s settling well,’ the vet said.
Lily, according to her weight, was a Lesser Sulphur-crested Cockatoo. Perdy, a smaller bird, is a sub-species, Cacatua sulphurea parvula (my school Latin coming in useful at last – Parvula means little.)
