Movies evoke all kinds of emotions in their viewers. Some make you laugh, some make you cry, and some make you realize how many weirdos there are out there. The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill definitely falls into that last category: it's a movie that makes you happy you are you and you're not a jobless squatter taking care of and naming non-native parrots on San Francisco's Telegraph Hill. Oops, SPOILER ALERT, I kinda just ruined the film for you. Oh well, it's not like you were gonna see it anyway. And if you were, here's one more spoiler that might deter you. In the end, the jobless squatter is evicted and starts dating the documentary's director. Definitely a case of truth trumping fiction.
I first (and last) watched the film about a year ago with my then future in-laws in a minivan between Chicago's MDW and Traverse City, Michigan. Me being the conscientious future son-in-law that I was thought it would be nice to load up my iPod with movies for our trip to a lake house in Michigan. Of course, I picked The Wild Parrots... and Helvetica, a documentary about a typeface. Now you're getting jealous you weren't there, huh? To make it even better, I pressed play before we even left the Chicago city limits. If you're wondering what my reasoning was, let's just say I'm impulsive and didn't put a whole lot of thought into it. There, I've said it.
Though it has been a year since that fateful minivan ride, nary a week has passed where I don't at least mention the lead parrot Connor and his tragic death by hawk (look out, another spoiler). Someday I hope to make a trek to SF so I can see the birds myself and get them out of my system. Until then, I pray they aren't prey and that the people of T-hill are kind to them. After I find them, they can be deported or poached or whatever.
The closest I have gotten to living out my dream has been by living vicariously through Cody (as seen here after New Years on the Pima reservation). The Code Man is currently interning in SF and working on the laundry list of things I have sent him to do for me. Number one on the list, right before visiting the Full House house and eating Rice-A-Roni: The San Francisco Treat (numbers two and three respectively), is finding the birds and reporting back to me. I am ecstatic to say he went to T-hill yesterday but am saddened by the fact that the birds were AWOL.
I'd like to say that his trek provides me with some sort of closure, but I think closure won't come until I find (or don't find) the birds myself. Who's with me? Let's go find those birds so they can stop plaguing my thoughts on an almost weekly basis.