The other day my dad was driving behind a car that hit a rainbow lorikeet. My dad, being the environmentally conscious person he is, stopped and put the stunned and potentially injured bird in a box and drove it to the vet. The vet checked it out and it seemed to have broken its leg and its wing had probably worked at some point although it certainly wasn't now so dad brought it home and popped it in an old cockatoo cage we had in the shed. That weekend I'd surprised my parents with weekend away for their anniversary so who got the job of feeding this wild creature? Me.
The rainbow lorikeet, substantially smaller than a cockatoo, managed to squeeze itself out of the cage and hide itself in the shed. The first time I went to feed it and it was perched on the yacht sail and mast hung up on the wall - a relatively easy catch. I got the big leather glove out, grabbed the surprised bird, and popped it back into its cage with new food. Mission accomplished.
That night I went in again to feed it and it was nowhere to be seen. Not that it wasn't in there. My dad's idea of organisation and arrangement is far inferior to my mother's so I had to poke around a lot to find it. It flapped and squawked as I fumbled for it. Eventually jammed itself between a box of mosaic tiles and the lawnmower so again i grabbed it and shoved it back into its cage.
The next few times it was on a paint tin, in a glass bottle, etc. And it learnt that if it was dead silent that it would take me a long time to find it. Anyway, the bird is now in a brand new cage made for birds just like him and its on the mend, getting fatter by the day.