This whole thread reminds me of our now-deceased parakeet, Peep. This bird was a trooper. Lived to be nearly 17 and lived in a house with a bunch of cats. Must have had nerves of steel.
At any rate, when we moved here to Kentucky, we secured Peep's cage on a hook in the ceiling in a corner of the breadfast room. We learned many, many years earlier that a cage on a stand was only an invitation to play "tip the birdie" for the cats.
The hook was near a mantle in that room and, occasionally, one of the cats would make his or her way to the mantle and try to "get" Peep. It wasn't unsual to enter the breakfast room and find the cage swinging.
One night, however, as we slept, one or more of our feline children apparently batted at the cage enough to unscrew the hook in the ceiling. I came downstairs in the morning to find Peep and cage on the floor. Peep was still in the cage but I imagine he was scared s**tless because he was surrounded by eyes, ears and whiskers.
Peep wasn't moving around too well so we decided to take him to the vet. Fortunately we had a vet in the area who was an avian specialist. She examined him and said that nothing was broken, just sprained and that he had quite a bit of arthritis in his feet, which would've made it difficult for him to sit on his perch. This explained why we'd seen him spending most of his time on the bottom of the cage.
She recommended physical therapy. Yes, physical therapy, and showed Buck how to administer it.
Long story short. Peep lived for quite a while later, but went belly up, feet in the air on Thanksgiving day a couple of years later. Peep was a tough old bird!
