Taco macaw comes from a case of known neglect, and Kamara CAG from a case of suspected abuse. I've only been in their lives for a short period of time, but I can tell you what life has been like with them so far.
When I first met Taco, the day I went to collect him from his old humans, he was kind of terrifying; he lunged and screamed and lashed out like an undersized dragon when the door of his cage was opened, and shrieked at the top of his lungs for the entire ride back to my house. I was pretty much confident that I was in for years of violent (though not undeserved) aggression. But once we were home, and Taco was able to walk around outside of his cage for the first time in 12 years, it was like he'd suddenly reverted back to a hatchling. He was desperate for attention and affection, and begged to be fed and have his head scratched. He stepped up for me a few days after we met, and within the week was following me around the house like a lost puppy, soaking up every ounce of love he could get.
We went through some major drama once hormone season hit, and Taco become a fully-fledged hornet's nest of a macaw who wanted to tear off my face and wear it like a trophy. He became fearful and was constantly stressed, which lasted a good few months, but once everything was over he seemed to be settled into a more mature mindframe; no longer wanting to constantly be coddled, and generally more independent overall, which is outstanding! He's still my buddy, and he loves to play on the floor with me and get his scritches, but he's so much more confident.
Kamara, on the other hand, was afraid from the get-go. Afraid of me, afraid of her toys, afraid of sticks, afraid of the radio, afraid of anything and anyone that moved or made a sound. She would scream bloody murder if I picked up a blanket, if I approached her cage to feed her, if I offered to mist her, if her roommate Kraz chirped too loud. Her vocabulary was horrible, and she'd angrily shout out awful things that she'd heard in her past, calling herself stupid and ugly and repeating every swear word in the book. She was a ball of frenetic energy caught in an endless loop of abject terror, and she was suspicious of everything.
To this day I can't touch her, and she still screams at the sight of a towel or a stick. But she chatters happily all day long, blows kisses to me across the room, plays with her toys, bathes in her dish, and dances along to the radio. With every month that passes she becomes braver and more adventurous, and is able to find joy. I'm incredibly proud of her!
Both of them have intense fear of many things that we might consider mundane or normal, and both display symptoms of lingering mental distress and anxiety. They've been through things I can't begin to imagine, and it's important to remember that recovery may take years -- or a lifetime. Someone who's been through trauma needs the ability to go at their own pace and decide for themselves how fast (or how slow) they're willing to approach new experiences, and that goes for all species. Be patient, be kind, and be loving.
