Flying the coop

Mathis Winkler

BALBOA PENINSULA -- The Birdman has lost his birds before.

Nine years ago, a man masquerading as a woman stole four of George

“Ski the Birdman” Meinschein’s birds after he’d let the thief stay at his

apartment for the night.

A year later, Wildfire, a dusky lory from New Guinea, was chased away

by a hawk, never to be seen again.

Now the local celebrity, who has entertained beach visitors with his

feathered friends for decades, is trying to intentionally part with the

exotic creatures. Diagnosed with emphysema seven years ago, Meinschein

said he no longer has the strength to care for his companions.

“I have no energy to even take the birds to the pier,” he said while

sitting in his tiny studio on 24th Street. Taped to the wall behind him

was the following quote: “If you can’t breathe, nothing else matters.”

The room’s a visual testament to Meinschein’s love for his birds. A

built-in aviary takes up about a quarter of the apartment, and Meinschein

can watch his winged roommates through large plexiglass windows from his

bed. Inside the cage, plastic flowers, butterflies and parrots keep

scarlet macaws Rojo and Chichi, blue and gold macaws Pico, Prince and

Princess, and Patagonian conures Madonna and Shawn entertained.

Parrot posters and jungle scenes adorn the walls, a cloudy sky covers

the ceiling, and parrot cutting boards and coasters hang from the

cupboards in the kitchen corner.

“The birds dictate my lifestyle,” Meinschein said. “We’ve developed a

real close relationship. They say ‘bye bye’ when I leave and ‘hello, how

are you?’ when I come in.”

Peeking out of an open dog carrier that allows the birds to move

between the aviary and the rest of the room, Rojo decided to emphasize

the point with hefty cawing.

“If you guys don’t shut up . . .” Meinschein said, aiming a water

spray bottle in the bird’s direction.

“Shut up!” came Rojo’s unimpressed response.

Meanwhile, Fireball, a dusky lory and the family’s smallest member,

hopped around the room, climbed Meinschein’s legs and picked up pens.

While he wants to find new homes for the larger animals right away,

Meinschein said Fireball won’t be going anywhere as long as he’s around.

“I can sell him now if they want to buy him,” he said. “When I die,

they can pick him up.”

Unable to clean, Meinschein has hired a woman to come by three times a

week.

“It’s like having eight children,” he said. “And like any mother

knows, you never run out of things to do.”

A retired oil industry worker, Meinschein said he needs to sell the

birds rather than give them away. Should his illness worsen, he’ll need

the money to pay for more help.

But while he might have accepted the need to bid farewell to the

birds, it becomes clear from his words that he’s trying to convince

himself again and again that he’s got no other choice.

“It’s something that I’ve mentally -- I’ve reconciled with the fact

that I’ve got to do it,” he said. “I’ve got to sell the birds. But I’m

hoping that I maintain visitation rights.”