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Parrots throughout the house

maryland scenes

Brian Wilson has turned his home in Damascus into a refuge for exotic birds

February 15, 2009|By Scott Calvert , scott.calvert@baltsun.com

For the past two weeks Wilson has been dealing with the rescued parrots. The homeowner in Gaithersburg tipped him off. She said a man staying there kept bringing in more parrots even as breeder pairs produced more. However fond he was of the birds, he could not care for them, and they languished in dirty cages. On Jan. 31, Wilson and foundation volunteers intervened.

Wilson quickly found new homes for 30 of the 81 parrots. Then Montgomery County animal control officials told him to stop until the owner formally gave up his rights to the birds. Late last week Wilson was still awaiting a go-ahead.

Wednesday afternoon, he sat in his home office smoking Marlboros as phone calls poured in about the parrots, mostly a smaller variety called conyers. He had a list of 650 prospective adopters.

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"Have they been adopted yet?" asked a woman phoning from Frederick.

"Not yet," he said wearily. Besides waiting for permission to disperse the birds, Wilson wanted their health checked. "We're trying to find a veterinarian to come up and test them."

"I own a parrot and a parakeet," the woman said. "It broke my heart."

"Broke my heart when we got there," he told her.

Wilson has had his share of heartbreak. In 1995, after retiring as a firefighter, he had a car wreck. All three parrots he owned then were in the car. One, Rocco, died. Wilson wasn't wearing a seat belt and suffered a brain injury that paralyzed his right side and stole his ability to walk or talk.

During a long recovery, he says, the yammering mimicry of survivors Daisy and Rosebud helped him learn to talk again. Over time he resumed walking with a shuffling gait. In 1999, as a sort of thanks, he started the nonprofit to rehab mistreated or unwanted parrots and take birds into schools and nursing homes.

His flock numbers 42, though 10 currently live with volunteers. The 32 residing at his modest brick house roam about freely, their wings clipped to prevent flight. They have roomy cages, but Wilson thinks it's cruel to shut them in, except after rare scuffles. Thanks to frequent cleaning, the house looks and smells tidy even if it sounds like a zoo.

Precious, an African gray, is among the more talkative parrots. "Hi, baby!" it says to a visitor after a flirty whistle. Longtime volunteer Lisa Nichols recalls Precious once looking down at her two dogs and saying, "Here, doggie, doggie, arf arf."

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