not very heavy
A few things about my household:
My keyring contains a house key, a car key, a bike key, and a keyfob about the size of the car's keyless security dealie except it's not a car thing. The whole shebang is smaller than average, I think.
Blake's cage has a long stick that fits through loops at the top and bottom of the door so he can't open his cage accidentally (this could, with a lot of effort, conceivably happen if he hopped with all his puny might onto the perch of a dish, which both fit into the door). When we're home, the stick lies on the cagestand.
When Blake is abandoned on his cagestand, he will pick up the stick by its handle end and give it a shove, and another shove, and another shove, an inch at a time, until finally it overbalances and falls to the floor. Blake will watch the fall and listen to the satisfying rattle as it hits the floor, turning his little head on the side to peer down with one monocular eye. Just playing with gravity, or expressing frustration? Perhaps both: a cockatiel is a deep, complicated thinker.
A cockatiel can't test a surface to gauge whether it will bear his weight. If a magazine is hanging off the edge of a table, both magazine and bird might tumble.
So the other day I came in the house and, as is not my habit, dropped my keys on the cagestand where it stood, as is its habit, by the livingroom window so Blake can watch the world go by. Sometime later in the day, I viciously cruelly and wantonly abandoned Blake on his cage, and he was forced by the utter invisibility of the several toys in his cage and the threat posed by approaching dragons to attract my attention by dropping the keys off the stand, nudge by nudge. But the keys are not a long thin pole but jointed and complicated.
Blake loosed the keyring from his beak a moment after the keys went over the edge. He let them go and pinwheeled (or whatever it's called when a cockatiel does it) and escaped gravity, but only just.
Okay, that was really long, but it was really cute.
