The problem with parakeets is twofold: firstly, they’re loud. And secondly, you hardly ever see them well.
It’s really annoying. Every evening I hear flocks screeching, Formula-1-esque, over the sky. If I’m lucky, I’ll look up in time to see a long-tailed silhouette disappears behind a building. More often than not, I look up and end up pirouetting three times before realizing that yes, they’re far gone, and have been for a good two minutes.
The few times when I have the acumen (read: blind fortune) to decipher what tree the flock landed on, they’ve decided to perch at the very top, where they loudly scream their defiance at me. AT ME. With all these factors combining to mean I’m not very familiar with parakeets at all in addition to just a simple lack of overall proficiency with distinguishing ID features, alone, I can’t even pin them to a species despite their (relative) stillness.
This is especially frustrating when you get such beauties like Malabar parakeets. If someone took a parakeet-shaped cookie-cutter to the sky and added a bit of coral reef in, as well, they’d probably end up with a similar result. To be honest, even bad looks at them can be beautiful: iridiscent raindrops flying in clouds against the brilliance of rainforest green.
When they’re just black dots fast-vanishing across a sunset, though? They only exist in potentiality, as a product of imagination.
This is the best look I’ve ever gotten at them. And to be frank, five minutes seeing them in their full glory more than makes up for hundreds of calls dissolving only into wind.