I’ve lived at different times with a little parakeet and a big parrot.
The parakeet found us, landing on my bike while we were picnicking in the park. We took him home, and he was fun. You could call his name and he’d fly to you. I would put my open hand under the tap to make a bird shower and he would run around underneath chirping with joy. He escaped one day and I cried, imagining him in the cold after sunset. I knew nothing about pet birds before the parakeet and was surprised how personable he was.
They must be hand-raised to be that friendly. I bought another one who bit me if I tried to pick him up. I took him back to the store.
The parrot was about on par with a cat or dog for friendliness. We clipped his wings but left his cage open so he could climb down and walk freely around the house. He would get in my lap while I watched TV so I could scratch his neck. He talked and sang and laughed (it was my wife’s laugh he picked up).
They were super fun. They are messy. There were always feathers around the house and crumbs around the cage.