FLOCK UPDATE: The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill by Judy IrvingShare

[tamaran2]

FLOCK UPDATE: The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill by Judy IrvingShare
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FLOCK UPDATE:
The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill
by Judy Irving


One of the questions Mark Bittner and I get asked most frequently, since he had to stop feeding the wild parrots, is “Who’s feeding and taking care of them now?” Some people even wonder whether the flock died out after Mark left San Francisco. The short answer is, “They’re doing fine!” But it’s much more complicated than that. So much more, that we’re releasing a double-disc “Collector’s Edition” DVD that contains, all told, over 5 hours of material, much of it new. And we wanted to let Bird Talk readers in on some of the details.

Mark was away from the flock for a year and a half, staying with friends in Oakland while he worked on his memoir (The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill). In that time, the flock increased from about 60 birds to 85. As he said in the movie, “They’re wild, just like the robins or the scrub jays.” They get along just fine on their own. In the years since, the cherry-headed conures have proved him right: They’ve expanded their numbers to about 200, and have expanded their range to Brisbane, 8 miles south of Telegraph Hill! Mark had figured they’d never cross a freeway. In fact the parrots flew over 2 freeways to get that far south.

As the flock has expanded, so has their foraging, because they need to find new sources of food. They’ve adapted so well to their urban habitat that they know when everything ripens, and they show up just in time: for the figs in the Mission District, the hawthorn berries in Noe Valley, the apples and pears in Parnassus Heights, and the pyracantha in Brisbane. They do eat seeds from back-yard birdfeeders too, but this provides a minimal part of their diet.

A new crop of babies fledged in September, and they’re now learning the ropes from their parents, who learned from their parents, who learned from theirs, and so on, back to the original wild-caught parrots from Ecuador and Peru who founded the San Francisco flock in 1989. Pet birds can’t make it in the wild, because they don’t know how to forage, or to hold their own in a raucous, territorial flock. Tragically, some parrot owners don’t realize this difference, and every now and then a pet parrot shows up in a tree on Telegraph Hill, squawking forlornly, advertising itself to hawks, unable to fly well because of clipped wings. “Filbert,” an orange-fronted conure someone brought to the Filbert Steps complete with a box containing seeds and water, came to us this way. Mark and I are now taking care of 4 parrots in our house on Telegraph Hill — including 2 cherry heads from the flock. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Mark did finally get to move back to the Hill! This is how it happened:

He has a good reputation as a caretaker. Mark had done it for several families on the Greenwich Steps over the years. Someone called him in Oakland and asked if he’d be willing to caretake the house next door to the cottage where he used to live. He jumped at the chance. The house was empty except for a sweet old cat named Ebony, who also needed care. I moved in with him shortly after that, though we both knew it would be a temporary situation. We were thrilled to be back with the wild parrots, and when Mark tried feeding them again, the old-timers who knew him – after less than a minute of curious staring – flew right down to his hand. (“It’s him again! Where’s he been?”) The babies and juveniles were more cautious, but eventually they couldn’t resist a free handout, either.

When I moved in I brought “Sweetheart,” my cockatiel (now 19 years old). For awhile it was easy: keep the cat in the living room and the bird in the bedroom. Then the “rescues” started showing up. First a neighbor brought Mark a “dead parrot” to bury. The only problem was that the bird wasn’t dead, just comatose. She’d flown headlong into a plexiglass windbreak surrounding the neighbor’s deck. She was a baby; she’d only been out of the nest for about 6 weeks. She hadn’t learned what an urban parrot needs to learn to stay alive and aloft: avoid wires, windows, skyscrapers, cars, fences, screens, and so on. At first we called her “Phoenix,” because she came back from the dead. Now we call her “Big Bird,” because she’s large and has a big personality: combination bully/coward/ snuggler. And we’ve switched to calling her “he.” (We haven’t tested our rescue birds, so we don’t know what sex they are.) Big Bird was out cold for about 6 hours, and when he came to, he liked the small bits of apple I was offering him, and decided that being a tame bird in a house was just fine. It’s a good thing he forgot about his short life in the wild, because he can’t see well out of his right eye as a result of his crash (the pupil won’t close), and he can’t be released.

Next came “Filbert,” who had apparently spent a lot of time alone in a cage with a mirror before being dumped on the Filbert Steps, but who has gradually lost most of his neuroses; and finally, “Parker,” another cherry head from the flock. Mark was riding his bicycle along Battery Street when he saw someone place a box over something and thought, “It’s a parrot.” He rode over. It was. Parker had neurological damage from a worm found in raccoon feces, and his head swiveled around in figure 8s. Mark offered to take him home. Since then Parker has gotten much better, but he still can’t fly straight; he spirals up like a helicopter, and then crashes. Unlike Big Bird, he would much rather be back outside with his flock, and he leads the chorus of squawking whenever the wild parrots perch near the house or fly by.

The wild flock has become part of the culture of San Francisco, and in the “Flock Update” on the new DVD, I’ve documented some of the ways they’ve flown into people’s hearts. On “Wild Parrot Day,” two young brothers dress head to toe as cherry-headed conures and squawk as they walk through North Beach. On Halloween, a young flock of adults go trick-or-treating as cherry heads, complete with one blue-crown (Connor), and a bearded man (Mark) offering seeds. People make Christmas cards with their parrot pictures, and paint parrots on their kids’ bedroom walls. Dentists play the parrot movie to placate patients, and North Beach cafes sell the DVD along with their lattes and pastries. Mark’s New York Times bestselling memoir is still featured in City Lights, the famous Beat bookstore.

see post below for the rest of the story:

[tamaran2]

On top of Telegraph Hill, in the Coit Tower gift shop, the manager fields questions from thousands of international and American tourists. Where can I find the wild parrots? How are they doing? Three years ago, he got almost no questions about the wild flock. Now, almost a third of the inquiries are about parrots. Many people make a special pilgrimage to Telegraph Hill just to catch a glimpse of the now-famous red-and-green birds. Of course you always hear them first: squawking maniacally, as if they’re arguing about where to fly. If you’re lucky, they will land in a tree just above you and continue their chattering. Then maybe they’ll fall silent, except for a low-pitched warning call, and they will tilt their heads, scanning the sky for hawks.

They follow their own schedule, and no one can accurately predict where the flock will be at any given moment, but good bets are Telegraph Hill, upper Fort Mason, and the Lombard Gate entrance to the Presidio. Their foraging patterns change with the seasons; as fruit becomes ripe they go for it, farther and farther afield. They search for good nest holes throughout the city, and after the babies fledge, the flock flies together in one huge excited mass for a short time before breaking into smaller groups again. For this reason it’s hard to get an accurate count. About a year ago Mark took a photo of the big post-fledge flock and counted the dots. It’s clear that they have become well-established in San Francisco, and, like other wild birds, they don’t need subsidization. In fact Mark isn’t even feeding them any more.

It all started a couple of years ago, when a man got in touch with him and asked if he thought it would be a good idea if this fellow starting feeding the parrots in Ferry Park, a big swath of open space north of the Embarcadero buildings. Mark told him it would be a terrible idea, because hand-feeding in a big public space would expose the flock to danger. His worst fear was that the birds would become accustomed to strangers, and that someday, one of those strangers would snatch a parrot out of the wild. The guy started feeding despite Mark’s warnings, and soon he attracted not only the parrots, but a group of “regulars” who fed every day and started handing out seeds to passersby.

It is a joy to hand-feed wild birds. Mark and I both know that from experience. But if the feeding puts the birds in danger, it isn’t a good idea to keep doing it. We heard about the feeding at Ferry Park, but hoped that people would lose interest after awhile. At the time Mark was still feeding the parrots occasionally too, so who was he to tell them to stop? There was a beautiful bird we’d named Natalie, with a stunning orange breast that made her easy to identify, who came by often. She’d land on Mark’s hands and arms, and crawl around on his head messing up his hair. She was so friendly and unafraid that she reminded us both of Fanny, who loved to bite Mark’s glasses. Well, one day Natalie disappeared, last seen on someone’s shoulder at the park. At that point we knew we had to do something to try to protect the rest of the birds from capture. When Mark was feeding them by himself, he never handed out seeds to others, and made sure that the parrots remained wary of strangers. “That’s a healthy situation for a wild animal,” he says in the new short film I produced about this issue.

We found out that feeding birds was already illegal on San Francisco’s streets, sidewalks, and driveways, and requested that “parks” be added to that list. When the proposed ordinance was introduced in committee, it was re-written to apply only to wild parrots, and it eventually passed by a 10 to 1 margin. We went down to the park to hand out informational fliers before the ordinance went into effect, and came upon quite a scene: There were 47 people feeding, taking each other’s pictures, handing out seeds and apples, with parrots on heads and arms and even pecking around on the ground. Everybody was having a great time, but it was clear that the parrots were extremely vulnerable to anyone who might not have their best interests at heart. Most of the regulars, in their defense, do love the parrots and claimed that they were watching out for them, but they could do nothing to control those who didn’t. Mark’s worst fear had come true: The flock had already become habituated to strangers. Before the ordinance went into effect we heard about other attempted and actual birdnappings, as well as the tragic death of a parrot who was swooping so low through the park that she slammed into a taxicab.

We pulled together a group of 10 volunteers, the “Parrot Patrol,” to continue handing out fliers and help enforce the law. A big sign went up: “Feeding birds, including parrots, prohibited in Ferry Park.” We worked with Animal Care and Control officers, park rangers, and police, who gave out warnings but never actually had to issue a “ticket.” Gradually, the massive feedings diminished, and finally stopped altogether. The flock is hopefully re-learning its fear of strangers. And because it wasn’t fair to ask others to stop while he kept feeding, Mark stopped feeding the wild parrots as well. (For details, see his essay on the hand-feeding ordinance: Redirect to Poetry and Prose) We’re feeding the native birds now – especially goldfinches, hummingbirds, and chickadees.

We’re still in the house that Mark started caretaking several years ago, but now we own it. The people who’d inherited it, along with several other cottages on the same lot, sold the property to a group I put together as a tenants-in-common. And so, Mark and I got to stay on Telegraph Hill, surrounded by the raucous chatter we love, caring for our 4 parrots inside. Since San Francisco limits the number of birds you can have in your house to 4, we’re maxed out. Mickaboo Companion Bird Rescue has taken over the role that Mark once played, rescuing sick and injured members of the wild parrot flock, along with many other species, and finding foster homes for them. (They need support: Mickaboo Companion Bird Rescue.) Ebony, our beloved old cat, died earlier this year. Although we miss her a lot, it means that Filbert, Sweetheart, Big Bird, and Parker have more room to roam.

Two of the Bonus Features on the new DVD are edited “Strictly for Parrots,” and our 4 birds enjoy watching them: Amazons in Orange County, macaws in South America, African greys in Cameroon, cockatoos in Australia – all doing their thing in the wild: foraging, playing, fighting, flying. The scenes were filmed by the World Parrot Trust (World Parrot Trust - Saving Parrots Worldwide). There’s a funny music video called “Ballad of the Brooklyn Parrots” and a short film about Quakers and power poles. I also included two new documentaries that I finished in the last few years: “19 Arrests, No Convictions,” about a Bay swimmer, and “Christmas at the Bait Shop.” (See Welcome to Pelican Media for details.)

Mark and I got married two years ago, as a surprise ending to my 60th birthday. I’d never wanted to be married before, and he’d always wanted to be, so it turned out to be a “first” for both of us. There’s a sequence on the Collector’s Edition called “Mark and Judy Update” with some funky home movies of the ceremony, held outside at the South End Rowing Club, where we swim in the Bay. Mark is working on a new book about his time on the street, tentatively entitled “Street Song,” and I’m working on a new film about brown pelicans, tentatively called “Pelican Dreams.”

When Mark started feeding the parrots, he was looking for his path in life. He wanted to find creative work that would support him, a home, and someone to love. The wild parrots brought him all of this. They changed my life in the same way. They are magical beings, and I hope, if you haven’t seen them yet in person, you come soon to San Francisco, climb Telegraph Hill, and have your own extraordinary encounter.

The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill: 2-Disc Collector’s Edition is available at Docurama - the best in Documentary Film - Cutting Edge Documentaries on DVD and wherever DVDs are sold.

[Ashling]

Oh my that was long, but a good read. I watched the original movie and it was great! Thanks for the update!

[hollyhawkz]

Thanks Tamaran,

I have a cherry head so this is of particular interest to me.

[expressmailtome]

Thank you! I find this type of article very interesting!

Matt

[Reznik]

Thank you for posting the update.

To anyone who hasn't seen the original I suggest you get your hands on it. I found it pretty amazing to see a flock of wild parrots outside their natural habitat doing so well.