Taking flight

There has been a family of parrots living along the route I walk my dogs. They have a nest in a dead palm tree standing in the grass between the frontage road and Interstate 69. It seems like a precarious place to raise a family but what do I know.

I first noticed them when I heard their unmistakable screeching one day. I caught a flash of emerald green in a tree, then I saw two green streaks in the air.  Then there they were, clinging to the side of the dead palm. Then one of them wasn't visible, from which I gathered it had gone into a hole. Over the next few months I would see them, always two, or hear them every so often. When I did see them, it was always a visual jolt, especially during the gray winter. They're so strikingly green they seem out of place in the sky.

In the early summer, I started seeing them on the side of the palm making a lot of noise and taking some obvious interest in what was happening inside the tree. I surmised of course that there must be some parrotlings inside. Kind of the opposite of Monty Python's "ex-parrot": a not yet parrot. A few days ago they were making an awful ruckus and seemed (to me) to be quite impatient that someone get on with something. The next day, I saw four emerald streaks. In spite of all odds, they had successfully reared, and now seemed poised to be rid of, a pair of healthy birds. Over the next day or so, I caught glimpses of the four of them flitting from tree to tree in what seems reasonable to conclude is a crash course in where the food comes from when you have to get it yourself.

I wonder if the parents will remain in their freeway adjacent condo. I hope so.