Wild Parakeets

Every morning, (every other week) when I take Theo out to wait for his ride to school, we sit on our front steps and look up at the moon, and at the rising sun on Runyon Canyon, and smell the green of our neighborhood. Sometimes we see our local peregrine falcon, circling our canyon, ignoring Highland, the 101, and all the city life below. But many mornings we see a flock of wild parakeets. They come chattering across the sky, their golden wings flashing, tiny and talkative. It is like magic. When Jonathan and I went on our honeymoon we saw a flock of wild parakeets in the Andes. They are so exotic, and so loud. I just can't believe a flock of them lives in the middle of Hollywood. I'm sure someone released their pet parakeets, they bred, and now they are a tiny immigrant community--just like those scattered through the rest of L.A.. They love the eucalyptus trees, and they love Whitley Heights. They like Hollywood. And for me, it is like being transported, just for a moment, back to a mountain top in the Andes.