Wild parrots roost in a tree above Ina Coolbrith Park in San Francisco with the Transamerica Pyramid as a backdrop. The question of how to care for wild parrots when they get sick is dividing the Bay Area nonprofit Mickaboo. (Anna Connors/S.F. Chronicle)

The bright green and red parakeet now known as Billy once soared with the rest of the wild parrots of San Francisco. The 300-some birds are a natural wonder of the city, heard squawking over Telegraph Hill or seen pecking at backyard berries and bird feeders. In 2023, the Board of Supervisors named them the official animal of San Francisco after they defeated the sea lions in a Chronicle poll.

But urban living has its hazards. A good Samaritan found Billy collapsed on a fire escape in 2018, poisoned by bromethalin, a neurotoxin used as rat poison that's sometimes accidentally ingested by wild birds.

The person contacted Mickaboo, a Bay Area nonprofit founded to rescue and care for pet parrots. Mickaboo volunteers transported Billy to a veterinary hospital in San Jose called For the Birds, where he was placed on a feeding tube and given antibiotics.

Seven years later, Billy is still in the hospital, with no plans for his release. And to a group of former Mickaboo volunteers who filed a complaint with the California Attorney General's Office, which regulates nonprofits, he's an example of what's gone wrong with the organization.

Chartered to help abandoned or injured pet parrots, the nonprofit has spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on sick wild parrots, declining to euthanize them even when they stand no chance of release. What to do about wild birds like Billy has deeply divided Mickaboo's tight-knit community of about 600 volunteers, all of whom are committed to caring for vulnerable parrots, but who can no longer agree on what is proper care - and what might be seen as cruelty.

Today, Billy is unable to fly or perch and lives in a special cage with flannel lining to soften any falls. He's prone to intestinal issues and sometimes needs manual assistance defecating. He is fed Miralax along with a diet of fresh fruit and vegetables. He is rarely permitted visitors.

As of June, his bills have cost Mickaboo more than $80,000.

Mickaboo, which received $700,000 in donations last year, does not have a shelter or veterinarian of its own. Its volunteers, including its leaders, are uncompensated, and they sign up to foster or adopt pet parrots in their own homes, sometimes keeping dozens at a time. When companion parrots outlive their owners, are rescued from animal hoarders or neglect, or are simply surrendered to them, Mickaboo volunteers take them in. Over the years, they've helped thousands of pet birds.

But for almost as long as it's been operating, Mickaboo has also found itself working with San Francisco's wild parrots. When a sick or injured parrot is found on the street in need of care, San Francisco Animal Care and Control calls Mickaboo for assistance.

Since 2003, Mickaboo has taken in at least 264 wild parrots, many exhibiting symptoms of bromethalin poisoning.

"They're very, very responsive," said Animal Care and Control spokesperson Deb Campbell. "We've only seen them as an amazing, valuable resource that keeps these parrots alive."

When needed, Mickaboo sends parrots to veterinary hospitals - usually For the Birds - and covers their expenses. Some wild parrots respond to treatment and are released. But others don't.

Billy is one of six sickly wild parrots who are likely to stay in the hospital for the rest of their lives - potentially decades, as parrots can live to be 25 years old. Impaired by the effects of bromethalin, some have neurological disorders that cause them to lose muscle control, medical records show. Others fall from hanging positions, can't preen themselves or have to walk on their ankles. Some have had seizures upon being handled.

Though they amount to a small number of the birds in Mickaboo's care –– 6.5%, according to the complaint - the former volunteers say the wild parrots' medical bills amount to a disproportionate share of costs: 30% of the nonprofit's expenditures. (According to Mickaboo, the wild flock now makes up 12% of all the birds in its care.)

The former volunteers and other current volunteers interviewed by the Chronicle say Mickaboo leaders have continually resisted calls to euthanize birds that are unlikely to leave the hospital, citing a policy to put down only birds that are suffering without the possibility of recovery - a policy many volunteers say is subjective and problematic.

"Imagine being a highly intelligent creature locked in a tiny space with nothing to do," said former volunteer Melaine Bryant, one of the authors of the complaint to the attorney general. "We're supposed to be rescuing birds from these situations, not creating them."

A website created by former Mickaboo volunteers depicts some of the San Francisco wild parrots who are being kept at For the Birds in San Jose. In a complaint filed with the California Attorney General, former volunteers said Mickaboo leaders have resisted calls to euthanize some of the sickest birds, even when it's clear they stand no chance of release. Screenshot from thetroublewithmickaboo.com

In statements to the Chronicle, Mickaboo representatives, including founder and President Tammy Azzaro and former CEO and wild flock coordinator Sarah Lemarié, denied the allegations in the complaint.

The parrots at For the Birds, the leaders said, have a "meaningful and measurable" quality of life. They said the complaint was frivolous, made incorrect interpretations of data and misrepresented the organization's mission. Its authors, they alleged, abused Mickaboo's trust, took privileged documents and let "emotional" motivations outweigh genuine concern for avian welfare. But leaked emails shared in the complaint to the attorney general also show Lemarié, while acting CEO, had previously questioned Mickaboo's approach to the wild parrots.

Separately, Azzaro told the Chronicle she felt betrayed. "The overall sense that I have is profound disappointment in people who we have considered allies," she said.

A spokesperson for the attorney general's office declined to comment on the complaint.

A divided flock

Bryant joined Mickaboo to foster parrots in 2020, when she was grieving the loss of her cherished lovebird Jack, her companion of two decades. Several years later, she joined Mickaboo's higher-ranking team of "core administrative volunteers" who had access to the organization's internal database, which tracked how much Mickaboo was spending on the birds' care - along with the details of their medical histories.

It didn't take long for Bryant to notice how much Mickaboo was spending on the wild parrots' care. For the next eight months, she took notes in an effort to make sense of what, to her, seemed senseless. Soon, her analysis - of invoices and internal emails - spanned 50 pages. She shared all of it with Vincent Hrovat, a Pittsburg resident who had volunteered for Mickaboo for more than 25 years but had also become concerned about the organization's approach to the wild parrots.

In April, they shared their concerns in the complaint to the attorney general, while posting an expanded version of the complaint to a website they created, "The Trouble with Mickaboo." On it, they posted photos of the injured birds. (They site was recently taken down.)

Echoing many of the complaints he shared with the attorney general's office, Hrovat said he believed Mickaboo was "boarding birds for many, many years" who had no chance of being adopted. "That seems to me like we are being dishonest to … the people who donate to us," he said.

Adding to their concern was that, even as core administrative volunteers, they were unable to visit the birds in person.

Dr. Fern Van Sant, the veterinarian at For the Birds, declined a request for a visit from the Chronicle. She said visitors aren't permitted at her clinic both because of COVID risks and due to her allergy to laundry scents.

Mickaboo regularly uses the San Jose animal hospital For the Birds to treat the wild parrots in its care, including six likely to remain at the hospital for the rest of their lives. (Anna Connors/S.F. Chronicle)

In the complaint to the attorney general, Hrovat and Bryant demanded that Mickaboo select new leadership. On their website, they also recommended that birds like Billy be inspected by an outside specialist, and that Mickaboo consider creating a spinoff group that would focus on, and obtain its own funding for, the wild parrots, which Mickaboo had previously done for rescued doves and pigeons.

But this spring, just before they shared their website via Mickaboo's volunteer email list, Hrovat and Bryant were kicked out of the organization. Many volunteers were particularly shocked to learn of Hrovat's termination; as a mostly retired product manager, he essentially worked full time for the nonprofit and in 2024 was named Mickaboo's volunteer of the year. "Vincent probably knows more about the organization and how it works than anyone else," the award announcement quoted another Mickaboo member as saying.

Mickaboo said the former volunteers were fired not for their investigation but for creating an alternative bird care class that was inconsistent with the nonprofit's established standards of care and sharing it with potential adopters without permission. (Hrovat and Bryant disputed Mickaboo's claims.)

As the website began to roil Mickaboo's community, Azzaro and other leaders wrote in a letter to volunteers that they were investigating Hrovat and Bryant's actions with the help of a major law firm - an "extreme" step that was a first in the nonprofit's history. (Mickaboo declined to comment on the status of the investigation.)

In a cease-and-desist letter sent to the ex-volunteers in early June, Mickaboo demanded they delete any Mickaboo files within 24 hours. Hrovat was told to relinquish the four birds he was fostering on behalf of Mickaboo, or formally adopt them.

"Mickaboo will not allow you to continue your attempts to destroy it," the letter said.

Which birds to save?

Tammy Azzaro, who co-founded Mickaboo in 1996, named it after her pet cockatiel, Mick, and her co-founder's bird, Aboo. Now a certified veterinary technician and the nonprofit's medical director and board president, Azzaro was saddened to see birds like Mick - whom she grew to love after the animal initially bit and scratched her- passed from one home to another.

While Mickaboo at first served birds like Mick, who came from a pet store, and other companion birds, the organization soon turned its attention to the wild parrots like Billy.

A hybridized breed of red-masked parakeets and mitred conures, the wild parrots of San Francisco aren't originally from San Francisco, and they weren't always wild. Their ancestors likely arrived as exotic pets from South America in the 1980s, and either escaped or were released, according to the 2003 documentary "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill," which brought them to prominence.

While they may be San Francisco celebrities, they're an orphan of the state's animal welfare system. Because the wild parrots are not native to California, they are not protected by any regulating body, including the state Department of Fish and Wildlife. Some wildlife experts call them "domestic feral" birds, and caring for them doesn't require a wildlife rescue rehabilitation permit, which Mickaboo doesn't have.

A mural of a parrot wrapping its wings around San Francisco is pictured outside Belle Cora restaurant in North Beach on Tuesday, July 15, 2025. (Anna Connors/S.F. Chronicle)

Of the 264 wild parrots Mickaboo has taken in, the organization says, 48 have been released back into the wild flock, and 106 have been adopted or fostered.

Mickaboo has also invested in research: A Mickaboo-funded study conducted by the University of Georgia's Infectious Disease Laboratory in 2019 established rodenticide as the cause of the birds' severe neurological problems.

According to that study, about half of the poisoned birds will die, and the rest won't fully recover. Ninety-seven of their wild parrots have died, and 13, as of April 2025, remained at For the Birds in San Jose, including the six severely impaired.

This kind of veterinary care is costly. From 2022 to 2024, Mickaboo said it spent more than $1.5 million in veterinary costs, or 74% of its overall expenditures, at For the Birds. This includes care of all birds treated there, including the wild parrots.

"Subjectively, anyone asked might say that our annual spend is a ‘lot of money,'" Mickaboo leaders told the Chronicle. They maintained that their role was to use their funds to help their birds, no matter their background.

Yet some other professionals in the field contacted by the Chronicle said the costs seemed exorbitant. Julie Murad, founder and CEO of the Gabriel Foundation in Colorado, said that over her 30 years at the parrot welfare nonprofit - even when it was caring for more than 600 birds at the height of the pandemic - there was "never a time" when veterinary expenses came close to Mickaboo's.

Mickaboo's leaders have resisted comparisons to other parrot rescues whose bird populations are not facing hazards as detrimental as bromethalin.

But Murad also said she disagreed with Mickaboo's approach to long-term care. "Keeping a sick bird in a hospital forever, I can't rationalize that," she said.

A wild parrot fosters in a Mickaboo volunteer's San Francisco home in 2017. Mickaboo has taken in 264 wild parrots since 2003, but in a complaint filed with the California Attorney General's office, some volunteers say the nonprofit should stop. (Leah Millis/S.F. Chronicle)

Dr. Brian Speer, the owner and director of an Oakley bird hospital that Mickaboo uses far less often than For the Birds, said that over his decades in the field, he had only two birds stay at his clinic longer than a year. "That was our record," he said.

Mickaboo leaders told the Chronicle they use For the Birds, rather than Speer, specifically because For the Birds can provide boarding for months or years. They rejected the premise that wild parrots were any different than companion birds. The parrots living in San Francisco shared the same biological classification as those living in captivity in many people's homes. All parrots, they said, were essentially wild.

"If a person finds a (parrot) lying on the ground in San Francisco, they cannot tell whether that bird is someone's escaped companion bird, or a member of the wild flock," they said. "We simply help the bird to the best of our ability."

Mickaboo leaders said they routinely conduct checks of the birds hospitalized for prolonged periods. They can move, climb, eat by themselves, vocalize with other birds and spend time in the sun, Mickaboo said.

"Ending their lives just because it's a lot of work to care for them, morally, for us, we're not OK with that," said Lemarié, the former CEO, who currently fosters more than 25 birds in her San Francisco home.

‘Questionable ethics'

Leaked emails shared in the complaint with the attorney general, however, show leaders have not always been unified. Last year, while she was still acting as CEO, Lemarié suggested leaders consider discussing humane euthanasia as an option for five out of the six severely debilitated parrots.

"There are questionable ethics in sustaining their lives for years on end in continuous ‘incarceration' in an indoor environment with limited enrichment," she wrote, adding that it would be an emotional decision that tested their compassion and feelings of responsibility. "These birds come from a wild flock, and they did not consent to being kept this way. Our intervention is prolonging their quite limited existence."

There could potentially be 10, 15 or even more years of this ahead for the birds, she wrote.

In response, Azzaro, the Mickaboo board president, wrote that the group needed to consider rerouting incoming wild parrots to a wildlife center. She recalled that Mickaboo used to take in wild pigeons and doves, before the organization decided to spin those efforts off into a separate rescue group called Palomacy.

But, Lemarié countered, neither Palomacy nor another wildlife rescue would keep birds permanently alive in a facility where they needed assistance to defecate.

"It adds insult to injury to me that I'm forced to fundraise to pay an extortionate amount to care for birds that have no viable future, and I'm not even allowed to ever see them again," Lemarié wrote, referring to For the Birds' strict visitors policy.

"I hope that Mickaboo will head in an ethical direction," Lemarié went on. "We wanted to see if (the birds) can recover. They cannot. At some point, we have to recognize that."

Lemarié later told the Chronicle that her emails were meant to escalate discussions about access to the birds, which was restricted until 2024. The medical reports had presented a "potentially alarming" picture of some of the wild parrots, but since then, she said, she and other leaders had regained more regular access to the birds and were able to evaluate how well each bird was doing.

Mickaboo pointed the Chronicle to its euthanasia policy specific to the Telegraph Hill parrots, which authorized Van Sant, the veterinarian at For the Birds, to put down any birds she believed had run out of treatment options; were unable to sustain their own food or water needs; and no longer had a "discernible" quality of life, which included being in pain or unable to stand, perch or play with toys.

At least 25 wild parrots had been euthanized over the years, about 10% of those the organization took in, the leaders said.

In a statement to the Chronicle, Van Sant said that assessing a bird's quality of life in the context of euthanasia was a "very personal philosophical decision."

"Outsiders might view a bromethalin survivor as a sorry sight and think it should be put out of its misery," Van Sant said. "To those of us that care for the birds daily, we know them by name and personality. We know their capabilities and food preferences. And most importantly we have been asked by Mickaboo to provide for their care in the best way possible."

Flying free

In June, as the content on the ex-volunteers' website began to circulate within Mickaboo's orbit, some volunteers announced they would be suspending their donations to Mickaboo until the situation was resolved. In the past, some donors - who are often also volunteers - have left their entire estates to Mickaboo.

Mickaboo leaders quickly organized a Zoom call to talk about the accusations. On the Zoom, some of the volunteers began to ask candidly about the organization's policies about euthanasia and the extent to which wild parrots had been folded into the fabric of Mickaboo.

Wild parrots flock to Ina Coolbrith Park in San Francisco on the afternoon of Wednesday, July 9, 2025, making a ruckus as they roost in the trees and feed on berries and bird seed. (Anna Connors/S.F. Chronicle)

Many volunteers talked about how much they valued what Mickaboo had done for the birds. But there was a disconnect, one said: If they were donating from their own trust to ensure their companion bird was taken care of after they died, shouldn't they be told if their money was instead going to a general fund substantially paying for birds like the wild parrots? (Lemarié told the Chronicle that Mickaboo honors restrictions on donations.)

In a follow-up meeting about the wild parrots, leaders said they were spending $13,000 a year per wild parrot at the clinic and had no plans to change course, according to volunteers.

Mickaboo leaders told the Chronicle they wished the energy put into disparaging their organization could have instead been used to create and expand resources for birds in need. They criticized Hrovat and Bryant for not pursuing a complaint through an internal whistleblower process, and framed their disagreement as one of priorities.

"Based on our many years of experience, our board and team of volunteers have decided to run the organization as we have," the leaders said. "As with any organization, some people may have a different vision, and that is perfectly fine. There is no end of birds needing help."

They said the rift had not led to any significant negative feedback, decline in the group's volunteer base or decrease in donations.

For Hrovat and Bryant, the departure has been difficult. Hrovat said it's painful to think about the quarter-century he dedicated to an organization whose cause he felt passionate about before being "blackballed" from the community. Rather than return them to Mickaboo, Hrovat has elected to permanently adopt his foster birds, Jackson, Sweeney, Bingo and Kiki Gee. Being around them and their lively vocalizations, he said, gives him a profound sense of purpose.

Mickaboo volunteer and UCSF scientist Dara Torgerson carries a cage containing recovered wild parrots to the release area in North Beach. (Manuel Orbegozo/For the S.F. Chronicle)

In the dark before dawn on a recent July morning, Lemarié and a handful of Mickaboo volunteers gathered at a street corner in North Beach. They were there to release four fledgling wild parrots and one adult as the main flock of wild parrots passed by.

These five parrots, treated at For the Birds for less than a year, hadn't shown any signs of bromethalin poisoning. After some outdoor flight training, they were ready to leave the hospital. As the sun rose in San Francisco, Lemarié opened their cages, and they flapped their green wings.

But birds like Billy will never know this fate. Releasing him or the other bromethalin cases "would be an immediate death sentence," Lemarié said. Even the most trained bird owners would struggle to care for them in a foster home. "The idea they could ever be releasable is not even on the table."

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