I was going through some old facebook photos for another thread I just made, and I found some pictures of a cockatiel I used to have, named Pecky. They're poor quality pictures, but I still like them.
He was one of the four rescue cockatiels we adopted a long time ago. All whitefaced, and all hand fed (you could tell because they would answer to the microwave beep).
He was a funny little cockatiel. He didn't like being pet unless if you held him to your chest. Otherwise, he absolutely loved getting scritches.
We had a cage for him (still have it, actually) that opened at the top. He absolutely loved sitting up there, being able to watch everything from a high place. Sometimes, he just decided to fly off. Since he didn't get very much exercise that often, he'd usually end up on the ground whether his wings were clipped or not (though my mom would clip them so he wouldn't go as far). He never objected to being picked up after that, but he never did learn to step up. Sometimes, he would fly directly to the couch, right next to where I was sitting. I think he just wanted to be picked up and cuddled during those times.
When he sang, it sounded like he was saying "pretty birdy" over and over again. The other two males we had with him had the same exact "song", although one of them knew how to whistle the little tune played at baseball games, and Pecky learned how to whistle it, after hearing his brother do it. (the tune in this video)
He always lifted his head when he sang it though, for whatever reason, rather than the heart wings that came with his regular "pretty birdy" song. I was never able to get a video of him singing, but for some reason, he was ok with pictures.
My parents didn't care for how vocal he was, and they didn't let me have a say in the decision of giving him to someone else (I guess I was too young, being 13 at the time). For a while, he switched from being our bird, to my sister's bird, until my parents eventually gave him to a stranger. They gave him away while I was at school.
I don't even know how old he was exactly, when my parents gave him away. Today, I wonder where he is, and whether or not he's died of old age yet. Even though I was sad to see him go, I'm glad he was in my life.
He was too beautiful, and was a total goofball too. I had a bit of a special connection with him, since if I'd whistle, he would stop what he was doing and listen, as to with anyone else, he would ignore them (It could've just been because I'm the loudest whistler in the house, too).