Wild lovebirds of Maui

I was astonished, though maybe I shouldn't have been, to see flocks of wild lovebirds on Maui, screeching and dive-bombing and doing all the things lovebirds do. I had two of them, you see - the second one died before I could even get to know her, and it broke my heart (though as a result, we ended up with a cat who is my dear companion and familiar). When I got home I looked it up (I don't have a phone attached to my arm/brain, unlike 95% of the human race), and apparently these are former pets who escaped, were abandoned, or got loose during tropical storms. A lot of people keep open-air aviaries in Hawaii, so such a thing is quite possible. Lovebirds, like most birds, are survivors and quickly find their niche. With year-round warm weather, food aplenty, no natural enemies, and lots of nooks for nesting (mostly under the eves of tourist condos), they're thriving and multiplying like mad.

This has caused problems: their screeching is not particularly pleasing, unlike the exotic jungle calls that fascinate tourists. What I noticed is that they're not quite wild: if I whistled or chirped, they would approach, shrieking irritably, and sometimes they sat on the railing of the lanai observing me. There was an air conditioner nearby, and they'd sit on it and scold me from a safe distance. The guano these things produce is prodigious, one of the reasons the locals don't like them. It splatters all over the place, down walls, on sidewalks, hardens like cement. But as with the burgeoning wild chicken population, animal lovers won't allow a cull, and you can't live-trap these babies, believe me - they move like peach-and-green lightning. 

So, unexpectedly, I had many lovebird encounters while on holiday, and captured some of it on video. In particular I noticed a pearl-grey specimen which could only have been bred in captivity. It's a mutation that wouldn't happen in the wild. That bird must have a story.