WHAT'S GREEN, flies screaming over the San Francisco skyline to the delight of tourists and residents alike, and stars in its own documentary? The city's wild flock of 85 conures, of course.

Mark Bittner greets a wild cherry-headed conure in The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill. (Photo courtesy of Pelican Media.)

San Francisco's wild parrots of Telegraph Hill, among the most celebrated of any feral parrot flock in the world, should become stars on celluloid, too, some time this year when award-winning filmmaker Judy Irving finishes her five-year movie project.

In the meantime, bird lovers are getting glimpses of Irving's labor of love at select screenings.

We saw a "fine cut" of The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill with about 200 other people at the tiny Diego Rivera Theatre on the City College of San Francisco campus in April.

Parrots is a gentle look at the flock and its caretaker, Mark Bittner. Filmmaker Irving describes it as a look at bohemia in the city, both bird and human.

Set to whimsical original music and the backdrop of one of San Francisco's best-known landmarks, Coit Tower, the film did not disappoint.

Bittner, who was once homeless, is something of an intellectual who eschewed a conventional existence because he could find nothing to do for a living that excited him. Instead, he charmed his way into rent-free living arrangements and survived on odd jobs; that is, until the parrots captivated him.

The birds, of course, represent another brand of footloose living - that of former pets who have carved out a wild existence in the city.

Together, man and birds make a compelling on-screen team. As promised, we laughed, and we cried a little bit. One of the film's funniest parts is an exchange between Bittner and a tourist.

As Bittner feeds the birds sunflower seeds from his hand, onlookers gather around and one man begins peppering him with questions. The man cannot understand how Bittner can describe the birds as wild when he feeds them and even has names for them.

Aren't they pets, he keeps asking. No, Bittner keeps replying. The man finally mutters "Whatever" and walks off, occasionally looking back over one shoulder, perplexed at the scene.

One of the saddest segments is when Bittner talks about Tupelo, one of several flock members he has taken into his cottage over the years to nurse back to health. Tupelo has developed some type of degenerative nerve problem and struggles to get around.

I was glad this part of the film's story was told mostly with still images. There were pictures of Bittner carrying Tupelo in one hand, her wings hanging limply.

Bittner describes her final night, when he thought he could sense strong emotion coming from her - gratitude at being cuddled, and disapointment when he put her away for the evening. He berates himself for not realizing she was dying.

In between, filmmaker Irving recalls San Francisco's bohemian roots, when places like the City Lights bookstore became a hangout for the famous Beat Generation of the 1950s. She gently probes Bittner, an obviously intelligent man who once attempted a singing career, to find out why he chose to live a similar life.

At one point she asks, "I'm sorry to have to ask this, but what makes you any different from the pigeon lady?"

Bittner does not visibly take offense. "I guess I'm not," he says.

I hope Irving completes her film in time for 2003 Oscar contention. With its intertwining stories of birds and the human who came to find redemption in their companionship, The Parrots of Telegraph Hill is a delight.

ParrotChronicles.com

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