The flock that ranges across the northeastern neighborhoods has been using this stretch more visibly in recent weeks, according to a handful of residents who track the birds informally online. The Vallejo stairway corridor, with its dense plantings of fruiting trees and the relative quiet of the surrounding blocks, seems to pull them in the way certain corners pull in regulars — reliably, for reasons that make sense if you know the place.

The conures are not native, which anyone who has heard them will have gathered; they arrived decades ago through the pet trade, escaped or released, and have been threading through the hills ever since. The flock fluctuates in size and territory depending on the season and what's fruiting where. Some residents track their movements the way others track which coffee shop has a table open — practically, with a little pleasure in the knowing.

On weekday mornings, the stairway draws its usual mix: people cutting between Filbert and Broadway on foot, dog walkers, the occasional person who just seems to be sitting with the view. When the parrots are active overhead, the stairway becomes briefly communal in a way it usually isn't — strangers pointing at the same branch, comparing notes on how many they counted.

Anyone walking up from Broadway tomorrow morning should look left at the big-leafed trees about two-thirds of the way up. If the flock is running on its recent schedule, the canopy will be moving.