Phoenix Is for Lovebirds

If this avian transplant can adapt to the heat, maybe we all can.

I remember the first time I noticed a lovebird in my backyard. My ears were tuned to listen for the familiar songs of the northern mockingbird, white-winged doves, and grackles in my Chinese Elm, but then I heard an unfamiliar but distinctive chittering. Surprised, I nearly missed the flash of green plumage and peach face, the markings of a lovebird parrot. It delighted me to see such a colorful bird among the drabber species I usually entertain.

lovebirds in phoenix

The rosy-faced lovebird gets its name by forming strong, monogamous relationships. Photos by Mark Koster.

That was over a decade ago. Now I’m accustomed to the flocks of rosy-faced lovebirds in my Phoenix, Arizona, neighborhood. Today, I also know they are not escaped pets, but their descendants. Local urban legend holds that the lovebirds broke out of an overturned delivery truck bound for a pet shop, while other stories tell of a family who released their mother’s beloved parrots following her death. The truth about these regionally invasive birds is muddled somewhere in the middle; the population is most likely the product of a combination of illegal releases and escapes. Either way, they are far from their place of origin: the dry wooded countryside of southwestern Africa, which has an arid climate that, in many ways, mirrors this one, except for one important factor. Water.

In its natural habitat, the lovebird resides in river canyons and rocky terrains that receive more than 100 mm of rain per year. But in Phoenix, water is not as easily found.

Five million people call Phoenix home. As the country’s hottest city, it receives only 36 days of rain, equative to 8 inches a year. Many Phoenicians, like myself, are concerned that our reliance on groundwater and the Colorado River are not enough to meet the demands of one of the nation’s fastest growing regions. Yet construction has not stopped. As of 2023, another 80,000 housing lots were approved. A 23-year drought, coupled with the rising temperatures that lowered the Colorado River, isn’t comforting either. Meanwhile, Colorado River allotments expire in 2026, leaving Arizonans to wonder about the future of our river rights. One hundred years from now, will Phoenix be a viable place to live?

Here, native species are conditioned for drought. Rattlesnakes suck the dew from their own backs; a saguaro’s spongy tissue store a thousand gallons of water; and the Gila Monster’s pores open from its bladder to hydrate them. With no natural mechanism to survive drought, the lovebird adapts, by staying close to urban development, where the birds have access to fountains, irrigation, sprinklers, HVAC condensation drips, and backyard water stations. Humans are not much different. In summer months, we crank AC units at home and in cars, fill our pools, run our sprinklers to keep lawns and plants alive, and tap irrigation to sustain agriculture.

In this desert city, we are all trying to survive. To do so, most lovebirds choose microsites, areas cooler than the surrounding habitat. These include well-established neighborhoods like mine, where tall shade trees, palms, and shrubs keep temperatures lower than in urban heat islands or the xeriscape landscaping prevalent here. Further evidence of the lovebirds’ adaptation exists at Arizona State University, which documents them congregating around campus air conditioning vents on days hotter than 90 degrees Fahrenheit. In this way, the birds avoid heat stroke.

Phoenix’s lovebirds are urban specialists who have learned to coexist with humans and exploit their resources. And while many experts remain optimistic about the lovebirds’ presence in Phoenix, the parrot’s future may be linked to the city’s future water supply. One hopes there will be enough water to keep Phoenix viable, for all of us. “There’s still a lot we don’t know,” says Stephanie Lamb, a veterinarian and avian specialist of the Arizona Exotic Animal Hospital. “What we do know is that there’s going to be more competition for resources with climate change.”

As the desert experiences longer heat waves, flora will be stressed in ways we can only speculate, Echols says. These changes may make life more competitive for the birds (if not all of us). Then again, it may not. For example, if heat stress were to reduce the saguaro’s numbers, we might see lovebirds competing with Gila woodpeckers for cavity nesting sites. “But the Gila woodpecker is skilled at carving nesting sites the lovebird can’t; that may work to the woodpecker’s advantage,” Lamb says.

With drought and extreme heat, food could become an issue. Lovebirds feed on many native fruits and seeds. The lovebird’s fledgling seasons coincide with the saguaro’s fruiting — possibly making them opportunistic breeders who take advantage of what’s available.

phoenix lovebirds

The European starling and rosy-faced lovebirds are both urban specialists who have learned to coexist with humans and exploit their resources. Photo by Mark Koster.

Most species are aware where the food is found. They learn to migrate, even short distances, to food sources, Echols says. They “adapt to different foods at different times of the year, especially local species. They just see what’s available today and learn to eat those foods.” The lovebirds’ opportunistic feeding could impact native species trying to survive on limited provisions. “It’s not an endless grocery store of food items,” Echols explains, so less food equals more competition.

Besides fauna and food, there’s also disease. “Climate adjustments are a stressor that can trigger underlying disorders in the population,” Lamb says. Lovebirds are known carriers of Psittacine Beak and Feather Disease, and chlamydia. The latter is known to be contagious to other bird species and humans, which means an outbreak caused by extreme temperatures would put other bird species at risk. And it could spread to human populations too. Respiratory fluids and fecal matter from infected birds gets into the dust. When inhaled, it can make people sick.

In 2023, Phoenix experienced 54 days of 110 degrees Fahrenheit or hotter. If this heat continues to climb, scientists predict the city will have 132 days per year of temperatures over 100 Fahrenheit by 2060. In 2021 the city issued its Climate Action Plan. Among the plan’s proposed initiatives is the creation of greener infrastructure and doubling the current tree and shade canopy to 25 percent by 2030. This will combat the heat-island effect created by buildings, streets, and other infrastructure. Every resident should have a park or open space within a five-minute walk, the plan says, which would add “150 miles of paths, greenways, bikeways, and [transform] another 150 miles of canals into vibrant public space.” This additional green space may be good news for the urban lovebird, but time will tell.

For many Phoenicians, the lovebird is a welcome sight. Longtime resident Lynne Foster says they’ve visited her Apache Junction backyard since 1996. “They bring us joy,” she says. And enthusiast Meghan Cox fills her bird feeders twice daily, provides fresh water, and plants sunflowers (natural food source) to draw them in.

“Like other non-native species, lovebirds appear to have adapted well to their new environment,” says Edwin Juarez, a bird biologist for the Arizona Game and Fish Department, “and their colorful plumage makes them visible in neighborhoods across the Phoenix area, bringing delight to many residents.”

Perhaps the delight comes from one non-native to another. Lovebirds aren’t the only ones that have adapted to the Sonoran desert climate, after all. Most of us are transplants to the Valley of the Sun too. We’ve learned how to survive the long, miserable summers alongside the locals, looking for ways to beat the heat. That is all any urban specialist can do on the hottest days here: survive and hope for the best. Yet as I look to the future of this city, I want to do better. If we can find better ways to conserve water and fight for better planning, we’ll all be better off: humans, Gila monsters, and lovebirds alike.

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