So there’s a place attached to the MU veterinary college called Raptor Rehab. The care for injured wild birds of pretty and release them when they’re healthy enough. Sometimes, they cannot be released and spend their lives in captivity. Those with the right temperaments for public interaction become education ambassadors. Each injured bird is assigned a number when they come in (they started at 1 and worked up from there), and often a name chosen by the volunteers or vet students do the bulk of the work at the clinic.
One year on Halloween night, a small screech owl, similar in size and coloring to this little Australian guy, was struck by a car and brought to the rehab. His number was 666, and they named him Lucifer, because you cannot let that kind of coincidence just lay there. Lucy healed up just fine, and was able to fly in the big enclosure, although he never flew when people were around. They saw him flying on video, though, so they took him out to a field to be released.
They took him to glove and tried to urge him to fly. Nope. He held fast. Not going anywhere. They pushed him off, knowing he was able to fly. No way, Ho-say. He literally flopped to the ground.
They took him back to the rehab.
He reveled in his baths, the free meals (usually frozen mice), and most of all, the ATTENTION. Lucy was a ham, and would pose and perform for the adoration of his caretakers.
They tried to release him twice more, with identical results. The rehab has a rule that a bird who fails three times is deemed unreleasable, and Lucy got to stay. He lived another 13 years in captivity, because he was nothing if not true to his brand. He loved being taken to libraries and elementary schools, convention centers and Renaissance Faires, posing and showing off, and living in the warmth and comfort of the rehab.