Minimaker,
I'm sorry it's taken me so long to respond.
I've read your posts on another thread. I know we put you through the cockatoo interrogation and initiation test. I always feel like I am being negative when someone tells me they want a cockatoo. All the members that responded gave you excellent advice and information. Our members are good people. You're still here, well informed and if you can make friends with and take care of a vulture, a U2 may well be the bird for you.
It sounds like you are thinking of starting out with a baby bird, I think that's great, you won't have to face the issues that come with a rehome. Still, the way you train your baby in the first years of his life will stay with him. Maybe Popeye's story can give you some insight that you can use.
Popeye's first owners were a middle aged couple, he was their first bird other than a little quaker named Zeke, that their daughter left with them when she went to college. I don't know if you've ever played with a baby U2, but if you do, I dare you not to fall in love. They are the sweetest, cuddliest, cutest, little darlings you could ever imagine. Popeye was very lucky in the fact that he was loved. His first owner was head over heels, we'll call her Blaire. My son and DIL have a mobile grooming service and Popeye's owners were customers and still are. I am not judging her, I've never doubted she loved Popeye and did her best for him. This is guesswork, but I think the first year of his life he was carried around like a puppy and given just about anything to keep him happy. By the time I heard about him, he was three years old, Blaire had rescued two CAG's and an Amazon, then she had to find a full time job outside her home. Popeye was confined to his cage, needless to say, he was offended and started to scream, all day, every day. The husband was not the bird's primary caretaker, so in Blaire's absence Popeye's screaming escalated. They made the decision to rehome the bird with a young couple that the husband worked with, by now Popeye was four. The couple kept him for a year, then contacted Blaire, told her they were moving out of state and couldn't take Popeye. Blaire went after Popeye and kept him for a few days before she would give him up a second time. The first phone call from my son was a polite request to please take the Too. I told him I'd think about it. The second call he begged a little, the third time he called, he said, "Mom please, he's the coolest little guy. He needs you." My husband witnessed the call and when I ended the call he was grinning like an idiot and asked, "When do we pick up the great white buzzard?" We reassembled and sanitized our giant cage from a previous bird we had taken care of. We drove for three hours to pick up our boy, I won't bore you with the details of that emotional day, but I will mention we had two crates with us and that came in handy later. We were almost ready to drive away with Popeye when the husband shoved Zeke, cage and all, out on the sidewalk, yelled, "If you take Popeye, you have to take the quaker." He then closed his door and a few minutes later we left with two birds.
Popeye was scrawny and filthy. He had had the same medium sized cage all his life because his first owner was under the impression if you so much as move a toy over a couple of inches you'll wake up to a plucked Too. She sent the cage with him to his second home. She was furious that I didn't take his original cage. Popeye ran into his new room and didn't want to come out. He was depressed and confused for weeks. His tail was green from dumpster diving in the floor of his cage and walking through poop. He was furious that his new cage had a grate and he could no longer recover lost food. First vet check and a new diet plan, fresh food twice a day was a novelty for both my boys, the quaker was willing to try new things. Popeye was willing to play with new foods, but not so willing to eat them. Creative birdie recipes, patience and Bird Street Bistro got Popeye's diet back on track. Frequent baths and a toothbrush dipped in original Listerine diluted with water removed the poop stains from his tail and turned him white again.
At first he would sit on his perch and shiver. After his vet check, it was pretty obvious he was confused and depressed by the changes in his life and not too willing to trust new humans. Coming out of his cage scared the daylights out him at first. I had to find a way to make contact and start to build some trust. I read to him, played cartoons for him, he loved Rio the first time he saw it and sang with the birds. My little birds got loud too. I bought a Fischer Price guitar and attached it to the inside of Popeye's cage. It has big square buttons that light up and plays children's songs. He drove us nuts with the ABC's. He started to open up a little. He's very smart and needed custom locks on his food doors. I made him a giant fleece swing, he loved it and still sleeps in it every night. I was surprised to see that he moves more like a monkey than a bird. Like the macaw in Rio, Popeye can't fly. He was kept clipped for safety reasons and never learned. Another surprise for me was his awkward and I think beautiful cockatoo language. Amazingly at the age of seven he has learned lots of new words and a couple of songs I made up for him, or with him. We were told he could only say his name, we didn't change it for that reason, but I call him Pie or Pidey-Pie and now he refers to himself as Pidey as well as Popeye.
Old habits die hard sometimes. I knew from my son that once Popeye had been confined to his cage for most of every day, the only time he was allowed out, it was to show him off and make guests uncomfortable. He was allowed to run up to people's shoulders, where he immediately got over excited and the poor victim had to be rescued from the crazy Too. That was one of the first behaviors I worked with him to change and I was thrilled when it didn't take long at all. Playstands, foraging and entertaining himself were new concepts. His cage has a balcony and as soon as it's open he will step out like a rockstar. My girl quaker, Harry never fails to tell him he's a pretty, pretty bird. I offer my arm and he steps up, I give him our version of a hug, he puts his face under my chin and clacks his beak. Sometimes he needs three hugs before he has the courage to be transferred to his play stand. One day he had his own ideas and instead of waiting for me to offer my arm, he launched himself off his balcony and landed under my chin, clinging to me like sticky tape, one of many moments I'll never forget.
I was trying to teach him to play catch, he was busy untying knots in a strip of leather, I kept distracting him with a whiffle ball. Finally in a bid to get it over with, he took the ball in his beak, glared at me, transferred the ball to his foot, wound up like he was about to throw a curve ball and flipped the ball over his head. I couldn't stop laughing and now he loves the game. I make new foraging toys out of paper lunch bags, stuffed with shredded paper, I use a hole punch on the lunch bag, roll down the top and attach it inside his cage with leather strips or paper rope. He investigates his cage for new toys every time he goes inside.
Screaming! Yes he can! Jet engine, stop your heart, make your ears bleed, screams! From day one we chose a plan and stuck with it. He flock calls a few times in the morning and again in the evening, not at top volume. He greets people in pure joy by bouncing, spreading his wings, and usually adding a few jungle calls. We make a lot of noise with him to celebrate the fact he's a Too. When he has everything he needs, hangs by his beak on his cage bars and screams at top volume, we don't respond at all, if we are in the room, we leave the room. If he persists, we cover the top of his cage with a giant lightweight quilt. It works like magic, he plays in the covered dome like a toddler with a tent. Five to ten minutes of quiet and we remove the cover. We were told his cage had never been covered, but he likes it so much he actually screams for his quilt every night at bedtime and a lot of afternoons when he needs a nap. He wants his woobie and his swing and maybe a bedtime story every night. To date I've never been bit, I'm sure Popeye had some form of pressure training at an early age. He was hanging on his door when day and when I walked by he tried to hitch a ride and left a bruise on my arm. He's a lover, not a biter.
Now that I've written a novel, you may be so bored you no longer want a too, I hope not. If I failed to give you the information you had in mind, please let me know. I'd really like to help. I've been told, I got lucky, and I agree, Popeye's a real treasure, but I'll add that I think most parrots know when they need help and are willing to work with a human once they are able to trust. I know we have other U2 owners in our group and a lot of them have other large birds as well. I'm not that brave yet. I would love to hear personal stories too. We are truly a nosy bunch.
. I guess I'm lucky I had glasses on or maybe I'd be missing an eye... They shouldn't have had that bird with unpredictable behavior in an area where that could happen to customers. 
