Before Scooter the Gray, Boo the Blue Front Amazon lived here. He was also a rescue.
He'd been mistreated before he came here. One wing broken and healed improperly. A bulge on the side of his face that his vet said was scar tissue from what had apparently been a long-lasting and untreated sinus infection. And I'd always been told "if it's green, it's mean," but Boo never bit me - well, almost never. He hated blond-haired women with the heat of a thousand suns, and I wasn't allowed to talk to them while I was holding him. The one time I tried he climbed down the front of my shirt, grabbed my thumb in his beak and started to slowly up the pressure until I couldn't take it anymore. My blond sister didn't believe me when I told her it wasn't a good idea to pick him up, and she got a permanent scar on her arm as a going-away present. But he was here for over 16 years, he was happy and loved being out, exploring the house, or sitting on me getting head scratches. Like all parrots, he had his own personality. He used "good morning" to mean "I want out" or "I want some of what you're eating" or "I'm bored and want something to change" or "I've had enough now, it's time to go back to my cage for a nap." I had to learn to read context.