ZaZu hangs upside down on the curtains of the apartment window, surveying all that is his: the jumble of colorful plastic balls, the climbing ladders, the panoramic view of the ocean. And the woman standing before him, cooing.
"Whaddya say, cutie? Are you my sweetie?" she asks.
The 3-year-old rainbow lorikeet -- a small parrot -- is a melange of colors.
His head is a deep cobalt blue, his torso a flame red with black stripes. His back and his sweeping tail -- "keet" denotes "long-tailed" -- are Astroturf green.
ZaZu revs up for takeoff with a feathery whir that sounds like a toy helicopter and soars past his owner and out of the room.
Usually he follows her. "I'm the flock leader," says Mira Tweti, whose last name is pronounced "tweety," an impossibly perfect coincidence for a bird owner. (It's Moroccan. She didn't make it up.)
ZaZu flies into the kitchen and perches atop the refrigerator, the better to dominate the two strangers visiting his nest.
"This is the closest he'll get to a tree," Tweti explains.
A photographer moves in for a shot.
"Bye-bye," ZaZu says in a voice that sounds like a scratchy tape recording.
"No, no, they're not leaving," Tweti tells ZaZu.
Once, she was a cat person. Now Mira Tweti is a bird person.
Tweti has sacrificed much of her two-bedroom Playa del Rey apartment to ZaZu, fashioning a mini-rain-forest-cum-bird-playground on her spacious balcony and draping the living room sofa in towels, since ZaZu poops frequently as he flies.
"It's like living with a 3-year old," Tweti says.
"Hello, hello," ZaZu says. "Goodbye."
Once a film publicist, Tweti has written extensively on bird and environmental issues for various publications (including this one). Her just-released book, "Of Parrots and People," offers a portrait of the avians that is alternately serious and quirky. ("Research on wild birds has shown that 30% of the time, birds fly for fun," she writes.) It also examines the often brutal practices of the parrot trade, both legal and illegal.
Earlier this year, Tweti published "Here, There and Everywhere," an elaborately illustrated children's book about a rainbow lorikeet. The book is fictional, but it's filled with facts about parrots.
Of the roughly 350 species of parrots indigenous to the world's tropical zones, a few dozen are lorikeets, all distinguished by their long, tapered tails. Lorikeets such as ZaZu -- who is 11 inches from head to tail -- live about two decades, sometimes longer. Some African greys and Amazons can live into their 70s. Macaws and cockatoos have been known to live beyond 80.
Tweti's devotion to parrots has led her to a "Born Free" paradox: The pet she loves is a wild animal and shouldn't be a pet at all, she believes. "It's like putting a human being in solitary confinement," says Tweti, who adopted ZaZu from a family that was giving him away.
Parrot owners who can no longer handle the energetic, vocal creatures typically ditch them, Tweti says, filling bird sanctuaries that have sprung up across the country. (Or they "free" them, which explains, at least in Southern California, why it's possible to see flocks of wild parrots cavorting in various neighborhoods.) She insists that parrots are the "fastest-growing unwanted pet" -- an assertion other bird welfare advocates can't prove but suspect is accurate.
Tweti, who has helped place 53 parrots in zoos and sanctuaries in the last three years, says that if people insist on having a parrot, they should adopt from a rescue group, shelter or other owner. "Don't ever buy a bird from a store," says Richard Farinato, senior advisor on sanctuaries and captive wildlife to the Humane Society of the U.S. "You're supporting a trade you probably don't want to know about."
Most pet parrots have been bred domestically, often under stressful conditions. Breeding parrots may live in dark, sterile cages, without enriching toys or baths, and their hatchlings are yanked away to be fed with plastic syringes. Although it's illegal, an unknown number of wild parrots are smuggled into the U.S. every year, mostly through Mexico.
Farinato praises Tweti for getting the word out.
"She is making the public much more aware of the plight of pet parrots through her books and the attention she gets," he says. "It's bringing that issue into the mainstream, where it hasn't really resonated with people yet."
Tweti's trail to parrots began in 1995, when she paid a couple of breeders at an outdoor festival $300 for a baby rainbow lorikeet. She named him Mango.
"Mango understood what I was saying," she said. "You have a pet that says 'good morning' and that he loves you -- it doesn't get better than that."
But after a while, he seemed bored. When Tweti left for work, she could hear his screams as she drove away. "There's no benefit to a parrot to be in captivity," she says.
She changed jobs and started working from home. "I didn't quit to stay home with my parrot," she says. "But I was as unhappy leaving for an office as he was being left behind."