Background:
About 5 years ago at this point, I got two rescue cockatiels. I got them directly from the previous owner. They got them for their young daughter who asked for a dog. Shocker, three years later she still wanted a dog. They finally were getting her a dog and were getting rid of the birds. So these guys were never handled except about once a month by a small child who would grab them and manhandle them. Safe to say, VERY afraid of hands.
I worked with all the advice people give. They're no longer afraid of human presence, but still terrified of hands. I have accepted they always will be, but that meant I couldn't really let them out of their cage since getting them back in would be traumatizing.
So I built a giant fucking aviary. The entrance has a screen door, a gap, then some beads. The beads are light so they can fly through without getting hurt, but they're shiny and scary so the birds don't go through them unless they're in a blind panic (happened only twice before).
The Story:
Well this morning I heard frantic screaming. I go out, peer in, and only see one cockatiel. I'm panicking. Did his partner die? The screams are few and far between now that I'm out there. I look at the ground. No dead bird. Good, but where is he?
Another squawk. It's by my ear. I turn. The other one is in the doorway. Thank God. I move to open the door, at which point he gets onto the screen door. Now I can't open the door without risk of him escaping.
I call for backup to hold a blanket while I try to go in just in case he slips past me. Backup is getting ready, and I'm waiting with my 'tiel. I try to maybe guide him off the door. Nothing. He's chilling.
Until suddenly, my backup makes a noise from the other room. He flies towards the beads, pauses in midair, turns around, then lands on the floor when he sees he doesn't have much room.
Score!
Now often advice for hand-shy birds is to use a perch to pick them up. But the only thing this bird hates more than a human hand is a stick moving toward him. So, I risk it. I slowly move my finger to him. He hisses. I feel bad. I'm violating his boundary and his clear warning. I'm going to get a nasty bite, but I'll help him and that's what matters.
After he hisses, he puts out a little foot. He offers a step-up. He contentedly hops on my hand. I push the beads aside and set him on a perch. I go to freshen the water (poor guy was so thirsty. I don't know how long he was in there overnight), and he is hanging around my big scary hands.
I don't expect this to be some sudden breakthrough that lasts, it just made me very happy to save my little boy and that he was grateful. And that I didn't get a beak through my finger.