My sister and I discovered that there are parrots in the trees in my neighborhood. I’m sure somebody would have told me about them eventually, but I liked that we just happened upon them while walking under a tree full of them. They go into this noisy freak out session right around sunset, and you would think they were being attacked or were attacking something, but they’re just expressing themselves. Imagine if every day of your life ended with you jumping around outside yelling and singing with all of your friends, family and neighbors. They’re probably getting a lot more out of life than we are.
I finally went out and photographed them, and I forgot how monkeyish and funny they are. I used to work in a pet store, and parrots are very intelligent and endlessly entertaining with their sideways stares and their use of their beeks as fingers.
They’re actually Mitred Conures, and have been here since the eighties. The ones in San Francisco that were the subject of the film “The Parrots of Telegraph Hill” are Cherry-Headed Conures. Their colony is thriving despite their desire to not let anyone in the neighborhood sleep. Thank Gaud I have a habit of sleeping with a pillow on my head, and that the nearest Palm tree is at least a block away.