My name is K. I am this highly coveted, wonderful bird called the Sulphur-Crested Cockatoo. Well, I am “wonderful” when I am in good hands. Who would have thought that one day I would end up locked in this god-forsaken, tiny cage where I can barely move, in this dilapidated prison where heat and light are minimal and where air drafts make me freeze?

Obviously, under such conditions, with my waste piling under my feet, the minimum of food to survive, and a weight of only 380 grams, I quickly became depressed. It certainly isn’t my pathetic feathers or this cursed, dangling wing that has made me a "good sale" as the owner would say.

And then, one day, undoubtedly by accident – or no, rather by passion – I was freed from my daily suffering. I say by passion because to place me in such a state, it could not have been to turn me into this wonderful bird but rather to defend the cause of animals and put an end to my poor treatment.

That day, everything changed for me. As soon as I arrived, it was nothing but medical visits, with x-rays and general check-ups. Ok, I wasn’t in great shape, and I looked more like a white rag than a cockatoo. My wing was broken and – according to the vet – it was intentional, but I can’t say when nor how it happened. Plus, my belly was completely featherless.

Here’s a photo to give you an idea of the state I was in.

From that point forward, I started a long recovery. I was placed in a temperate and (finally!) well-lit room, with a large red lamp that keeps my plumage warm and fresh fruit and vegetables that keep my belly full. And then, I was pampered and given nice little toys in my cage for my favourite pastime: gnawing, gnawing – essentially, working my beak.

And then, my feathers started to grow back, which made me finally look like a real cockatoo. After several months of recovery, I had grown back my beautiful plumage but my flying days were clearly over.

I will never understand why my wing was broken, when clipping just a few feathers would have been enough to keep me from escaping.

It was hard to forget this trauma, despite all of the tender care, fruit, candies, toys and other amenities that made up my daily routine. I refused all physical contact, because of the bad experience with humans in my past.