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February 05, 2005

That special time of year

The plum trees were blooming at Embarcadero Plaza, and a hundred parrots methodically pruned each one from every tree. They ate and screamed and glissaded from tree to tree, less shy than usual, letting people come within six feet of them. The sidewalk was littered with twigs.

People stopped in mid-commute, letting trains leave without them and taxis line up at the stand. Cameras came out, held loosely at the waist as their owners gawked. Shapes of dark sharp wings against darkening sky.

Posted by Chris Clarke at February 5, 2005 01:56 PM TrackBack URL for this entry:
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Comments

Glissade.

I love that word, but I love the activity more.

I live with a parrot. My eardrums suffer enough as is: I can hardly imagine hundreds of them.

Posted by: Siona at February 5, 2005 05:14 PM
decorative line of bighorn petroglyphs

There's a book on them now, I hear. Has a parrot colony ever been so celebrated?

Posted by: Jarrett at February 6, 2005 06:43 PM
decorative line of bighorn petroglyphs