Overwhelmed owners jettison exotic birds

by Jacques Von Lunen, Special to The Oregonian

Tuesday May 12, 2009, 5:46 AM

There are two ways to open the thick shell of a tropical nut: Bash it with a hammer, or get a parrot to crack it with its beak.

Take that powerful bite, add superior intelligence, complex social needs and a tendency to express displeasure through shrieks as loud as a low-flying jet, and you've got yourself one potential pet nightmare.

Or the best pet companion you could imagine. It just takes extra time and effort, which people have less and less of to spare right now.

In the past year, economic hardship has joined buyer's remorse -- a common-enough ailment among new bird owners -- to create an unwelcoming climate for parrots and other exotic birds. They are being relinquished for adoption at such a high rate in the greater Portland area that bird rescues are helplessly overloaded.

Several exotic-bird rescues report that both intakes and adoptions dropped off when the slowing economy first forced some homeowners to move into rentals, where they couldn't keep the noisy birds. Owners then put up birds for sale online instead of giving them up, hoping to recoup some of their expenses, says Priscilla Sturges, who runs the adoption program for the Rose City Exotic Bird Club.

This meant exotic birds became cheap -- not so long ago a parrot could sell for between $1,000 and $2,000, while rescue groups charge adoption fees that go as high as $400 -- and a lot of people bought on impulse. Since then, more and more birds are being relinquished, and fewer are adopted.

Rescues such as S&D Exotic Bird Rescue in Keizer can't take any more birds, says Donna Burleigh, who runs the rescue out of her home. She and her husband, Stephen, take care of 39 Quakers, Amazons, caiques, macaws and African grays.

And more are clamoring to get in.

"If I had 100 acres, I could fill them with birds," Burleigh says.

Others echo that sentiment. Fran DiDomenico, who used to be the pre-eminent bird rescuer around these parts until medical problems forced her out of the work six years ago, says she still gets calls for help.

"If I wanted to, I'd have hundreds of birds," she says.

The Avian Medical Center in Lake Oswego recently started a service to match birds in need of homes with potential adopters because the need is so overwhelming right now. The clinic gets five or six requests every day, owner and veterinarian Marli Lintner says. She and the staff will try to find homes for the birds but can't house them at the clinic.

"If we did, we'd be overrun in a week," Lintner says.

While the recession plays a sizable part in this, it only exacerbates a problem that existed before the downturn: Many owners aren't prepared for the extraordinary commitment that an exotic bird -- particularly a large one -- requires.

Some bird lovers say parrots shouldn't be pets at all.

"We cannot provide adequate care for a parrot in captivity," says Jack Devine, who runs the Macaw Landing refuge in Northeast Portland.

The average parrot goes through five homes in its lifetime, Devine says, because some owners can't handle the birds. This would be traumatic for any animal; it's particularly damaging for parrots, given their needs.

A macaw, and many other parrots, spends two years finding a mate in the wild. Once it's made its choice, it is inseparable from its partner.

"They're basically touching sides for their entire lives," Devine says.

In captivity, macaws don't get to make that choice, he says. At his refuge, some 80 birds live in a huge cage, almost all paired with partners they met there.

It's a blur of yellow, blue, red and green. Some birds caw and screech; others just sit together quietly. All eye visitors with great interest. All are free to fly within the large enclosure. But none will ever leave; they are not up for adoption.

"They need to be in the company of other birds," Devine says. "These birds do not make good pets."

But the Avian Medical Center's Lintner, who treats only birds, says exotic birds raised in captivity can absolutely bond with humans.

"They think they're people anyway, if you spend enough time with them," she says.

Even the most fervent supporters of parrots as pets admit it takes a lot to keep them -- and, in turn, the owners -- happy.

The larger parrots live almost as long as humans -- some macaws are said to have lived to be 100. Smaller species are around for 10 to 20 years. Owners must be in it for the long haul.

Parrots have the intelligence of a 3- to 4-year-old child and the destructive personality of a 2-year-old, Devine says.

They are highly sensitive and carry the emotional scars of abuse or neglect for a long time, DiDomenico says.

They are unsuitable for families with small children, who might taunt them and stick their fingers in the cage. Even adults who don't taunt their feathered friends will likely feel the beak eventually.

"If you have a bird, you're going to get bit," DiDomenico says.

They might bruise your ego, too. A parrot will likely choose one family member as its sole partner and not bond much with the rest of the family. Are you ready to be ignored by a bird that adores your spouse?

However, given proper care and attention, parrots make special pets.

Charlie, a double yellow-headed Amazon at DiDomenico's house, is a chatterbox and a showoff. She freely displays her vocal prowess for a visitor, saying "Hello," imitating a rooster's call with great precision and even trilling an aria. She prances around on top of her cage, basking in the attention.

Brightly colored Lucy is not happy about this. She's found a partner in Charlie and, having been brought up when DiDomenico was doing rescues, has seen her share of friends picked up by adopters. She's afraid this stranger is about to take away her partner, and she's letting everyone know it.

Her piercing shrieks, while enough to drive away humans, are endearing. They seem to reveal complexity, understanding and emotion seldom seen to this extent in other animals.

"They are so entertaining and playful," DiDomenico says. "They love interacting and are very animated."

Frank, another Amazon, shows how deeply these birds can bond to a human. He's a male's male, and George DiDomenico, Fran's husband, is his partner. The bird sits in the man's lap, rolls onto its back and lies there defenseless, having its belly rubbed.

"They are so loyal, they're like dogs with feathers," Fran DiDomenico says. "You just have to earn their trust at their pace."

-- Jacques Von Lunen; pets@jvonlunen.com