Lorenzo and the Gap Between Care and the Law

I met him one January, when he was brought into the house in a tiny, horrible cage—not suitable for his size—and he greeted us so cheerfully with a “Hello” that he surely learned from his previous owner.

I was in shock because I never imagined seeing a real-life Amazona ochrocephala or yellow-crowned parrot so close to me. I didn’t even know what made my mom bring him home, as she was never a pet person.

It was love at first sight. They told me his name was Lorenzo, that he was already an adult, and that I should be careful because he could bite. But my stubbornness and eagerness to get to know him led me to invite him out of the cage so he could stretch and explore his new space. And so he did: he came out of the cage and stayed there, on top of it, lowering his head and puffing up near me, inviting me to give him head scratches.

I thought it might be a trick to lure me in and bite me, but when I dared to pet him, he just enjoyed a good scratch. In that moment, I felt his thirst for affection and attention.

His mere arrival turned my house, my routine, my wallet, and my world upside down. I started researching how to meet his needs and counting every penny in my bank account to slowly buy him everything he needed for comfort, entertainment, good health, and food.

His vet used to say he was the kindest parrot he had ever known. Every day with him was a new experience. He gave me gray hairs… and millions of joyful moments.

I went nuts. I took him on trips, celebrated his birthdays, bought him Christmas presents—among other craziness. He wouldn’t even let me go to the bathroom alone or eat in peace. I learned what it means to completely lose privacy when you have a bird.

Over time, he wasn’t my parrot, and he was never my pet. He was my precious child, the spoiled one in the house. I loved every single minute I spent with him.

I was always aware that a life in captivity, at home, wasn’t the right one, so whenever someone asked me, I strongly advised against having a bird. People are unaware of what it truly means to have one or what it means to deprive it of its freedom.

I never chose to send him to a bird sanctuary because I understood that a hand-raised bird, brought up by humans since birth, becomes attached to and dependent on human presence. They don’t always get along well with other birds, which can cause them emotional distress. My mission as his caretaker was to provide him with the best environment, nutrition, and health while he was with me. Only the best of the best.

Unfortunately, my baby left this world in 2024, without any clear explanation. I don’t know if it was due to natural causes or because his previous lifestyle took a toll and it was something we couldn’t detect or that I overlooked.

I thank God for the chance to know him, to change his life, to change my life. And if I failed to give him something more, I hope we meet again in another life.

I truly hope that, in the future, the laws will find a way to stop illegal trafficking or the keeping of this kind of species, because I fully believe people do not realize what it means to have a bird or how much damage it does to ecosystems to take them from their natural environments.

He is, and always will be, the most wonderful life experience I’ve ever had. Maybe everyone says the same about their parrots, but today, by sharing Lorenzo’s story, I celebrate his life and pray that God’s infinite love gave him the freedom he so deeply deserved.

Thank you for the space, and please don’t give up on your mission to save all the birds in need.

Analysis and reflections from Fundación Loros

Lorenzo: A Call for Trust and Freedom

Lorenzo’s story reflects not only the deep bond that can form between a human and a bird, but also the ethical complexity of living with a wild animal outside its natural habitat.

At Fundación Loros, we recognize that most people don’t keep parrots out of whim, but out of affection, compassion, and a genuine desire to protect. This story is not about “irresponsible ownership,” but about someone who poured her life into repairing past harm—with awareness and love. In fact, it discourages captivity and dreams of a world without wildlife trafficking.

But it also sheds light on something we cannot ignore: institutional mistrust. Many people who rescue birds from abuse are afraid to approach authorities—fearful of being judged or of the animals ending up in worse conditions. That lack of trust stems, in part, from a system that still struggles to distinguish those who harm from those who try to help with what they have.

That’s why we issue an urgent call:

To environmental authorities: review how you treat people who, while not strictly within the law, have acted in good faith. We need more empathy, more listening, and clearer guidance.

To institutions managing wildlife: reinforce transparency and ensure the real well-being of confiscated animals.

And to society: understand that loving a parrot doesn’t mean owning it—it means respecting its right to fly free.

To those who, like the author of this story, have cared with love: thank you. You are part of the change. Because no loving heart should be treated as an enemy. And because true freedom for animals demands institutions as compassionate as they are strong.