Wild parrots find a friend in Brooklyn

Steve Baldwin, 49, a marketing manager and Brooklyn resident, adopted an African gray parrot from his ex-wife in 1996 and has been in love with parrots ever since.

"I'm the bird guy," he said with a chuckle.

He began offering free bird-watching tours last March, or "parrot safaris” as he calls them, that focus on the monk parrot population of Brooklyn. Participants are taken on a walking tour of the nesting sites and given a chance to see the bright green birds, native to Argentina, in their newfound habitat.

His Web site, BrooklynParrots.com, offers "facts, lore, audio files, photos, pictures, photo comics and other information about Brooklyn's flocks of wild monk parrots." And his self-published children’s book, "Tango in America," features a parrot as the protagonist.

"I've sold a few copies," he said, though he added that the book had not been a source of income. Baldwin does, however, earn about $80 a month selling parrot-themed merchandise: mugs, T-shirts and other items through his Web site.

Not everyone shares Baldwin’s enthusiasm for the birds. Power companies like Con Ed in New York and Public Service Electric & Gas in New Jersey as well as electricity providers in Connecticut, Illinois and Florida are more than a little annoyed by the birds’ tendency to build nests atop electrical poles, some of which have caught fire in the last several decades.

Baldwin’s Web site says that some power companies use aggressive tactics against the nests, like engulfing them with poisonous gas and then removing the nests, dead parrots and all.

Laurel Huntington, a member of the New York Companion Bird Society and a pro-parrot activist, describes the treatment of parrots in Connecticut as “a slaughter.”

In fact, the conflict between bird lovers and electricity companies has heated up to such an extent that, prompted by Alison Evans-Fragale, founder of EdgewaterParrots.com, a bill was introduced in New Jersey in January to take monk parrots off of the list of potentially dangerous species. The move would force the energy company there to take greater care when dismantling nests.

Baldwin, ever true to his chattering friends, said that when he was consulted on the bill, he explained that the birds are treated less aggressively by electricity companies in New York state. That is due, in part, to the fact that the same monk parrots in New Jersey are classified as “dangerous,” while those in New York are not.

“The word went out somehow. The birds all know this is the place to be,” Baldwin said of their relatively safe nesting sites along Campus Avenue in Brooklyn, or what he calls “Parrot Alley.”

On a recent rainy afternoon at the end of the No. 2 subway line at Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, Baldwin escorted nine bird enthusiasts and curious onlookers, free of charge, to meet the birds that won his heart. On the first Saturday of every month his tours begin at the Hillel Gate of the Brooklyn College campus and meander through nesting spots.

At the start of the tour, however, people were disappointed to find no birds, only nests.

"The birds don't always show themselves for the tours," Baldwin said.

But soon, an impressive array of silhouettes appeared in the leafless trees, with round bodies, long slender tails and unmistakably beaky faces. More parrots were spotted at a distance, hovering around the large nests they had built on light poles near Brooklyn College's soccer field. Just as suddenly, another two dozen birds appeared in the trees immediately overhead--as green and chattering as the February sky was gray.

Laurel Huntington of the New York Companion Bird Society scattered birdseed on the ground as the group waited patiently for the birds to come closer.

A hush descended over the crowd. At first only pigeons came down to enjoy the bounty, but then a flash of emerald and turquoise fluttered amid the pigeon gray.

Likening the scene to New York City with its ever-changing immigrant population, Baldwin said: "We're looking at pigeons. We're looking at parrots. We're looking at sparrows. None of these are native birds, and yet all of them are getting along."

That is, until a large black crow flew toward one of the parrot nests atop the light towers around the soccer field and the parrots scattered with a trilling chatter of distress calls.

"You can see how I kind of get drawn into the drama," Baldwin said cheerfully. "There's always something going on."

E-mail: jew2105@columbia.edu