ORANGE : Gaudy Parrots--60 of ‘Em--Test, Delight

When the pecans and walnuts ripen on the branches of the mighty century-old trees that form a dark green canvas over his Old Town Orange neighborhood, Dale Rahn knows they are coming.

Ever-expanding flocks of colorful, sociable parrots have called Rahn’s historic district in the center of Orange their autumn home for more than a decade.

Apparently attracted by the fruits and nuts from the area’s arbor, the parrots first appeared in such small numbers that some residents considered it a treat to catch a glimpse of them.

This fall, however, the parrot population has swelled to more than 60, testing residents’ nerves and patience with their dive-bombing and loud chirping.

Though it all sounds like an old horror movie, Rahn and others are quick to point out that these birds charm rather than terrorize.

“I just love those guys. They’re so much fun,” he said. “They’re really crazy. They hang upside down, fly low. And they’re so noisy. You can’t miss them.”

No, these parrots definitely make a statement during their stay, from the partially eaten fruit found on the ground to the melodious (some say murderous) screeching that give this suburban neighborhood its jungle-like atmosphere. Not to mention the ubiquitous droppings.

But despite these markers, the birds remain something of a mystery.

For one thing, no one is sure exactly where they come from. Because no native parrots remain in the United States, residents believe at least some are former pets that escaped to freedom.

Folksy stories abound about how the parrots escaped, including one version from Laguna Beach naturalist Peter Paul Ott, in which someone released dozens of birds during a fire at a pet store years ago.

The most common parrot, Rahn said, is the Mexican green, with its green body, yellow striped head and red underwings visible only when it flies. Three other parrot varieties have also been spotted: one with a bright red body, another with an unusually long tail and a third that resembles a cross between a parakeet and and parrot.

Fuzzier still is whether the parrots in Orange are the very same ones spotted over the years in surrounding cities such as Fullerton and Santa Ana.

An important clue about the parrots’ habits was discovered this summer when the massive tops of two palm trees in Orange suddenly crashed more than 40 feet to the ground. City workers discovered that the tree trunk had been weakened from burrowing by the parrots, who used them for nesting, said Bob Cruz, field superintendent for Orange.

In the end, the city had to pay $4,500 to cut down seven weakened palm trees, some of which contained parrot nests and eggs, Cruz added.

Despite this evidence, it is doubtful the parrots spend all their time in Orange. Rather, Ott speculated, the birds are like the thousands of other wild parrots around Southern California who migrate around the region. Orange is home sweet home when food is plentiful, but it’s time to move on when the last nut, seed or fruit is gone.

Nonetheless, the parrots have endeared themselves to many residents for whom autumn wouldn’t be the same without their color and chatter.

“They have a terrible screech. They get on the wire and have an argument,” resident Alice Clark said. “I love it. I always run out and watch.”