On quiet evenings, it's possible to pinpoint Ron and Tammy Johnson's modest Harlem home long before it comes into view.

The yellow house, appropriately situated on Byrd Drive, is home to the Johnsons, a small assortment of dogs and cats, a few roaming chickens and nearly 600 tropical birds. The air is filled with chirps, squawks, calls and occasional parrot-speak. Large greenhouse-shape enclosures, called flights, have been built across eight acres, offering the birds, all of which were rescued, a safe, comfortable haven.

Although the refuge, called Feathered Friends Forever, has been operating for only about nine years, Mr. Johnson said the genesis of his labor of avian love began much earlier.

"It actually started about 40 years ago," he said, standing in front of a large flight of rainbow-color macaws. "I had to give up some birds when military duties called way back when, and I made a promise to them. I said that somehow, somewhere, in some way I would make it up to them, that I would take in every bird that needed a home."

The project began simply enough, taking in a bird through friends and family. Soon, the Johnsons found that they were the proud parents of a small flock.

"We discovered that we were sitting there with 40 or 50 birds," Mr. Johnson said with a laugh. "So we decided that if this was something we were going to do, this was the time to do it. That was nine years ago this month."

Although considerable funding is available for animal shelters, none is allocated to sanctuaries specializing in tropical birds. Mr. Johnson said Feathered Friends has been forced to survive hand-to-mouth.

"We learned what the term 'nonprofit' is very quickly," he said. "There's still a real lack of community effort as far as volunteers and a lack of city, county, state and federal funding. So it really is a case of when we win, we win and when we lose, we lose. This has cost us a lot, but we're also now the largest facility like this in the nation, and we've been able to do it for nine years."

The daily walk to the mailbox carries the hope that enough envelopes will arrive from people enthusiastic about the Feathered Friends mission. Walking past a cage filled with emerald Amazon parrots, some representing species so near extinction that fewer than 300 are believed to exist, Mr. Johnson broke down the dietary needs of his charges.

"It takes 1,500 pounds of seed mix, about 800 pounds of pellets, and 350 pounds of fresh fruit and vegetables every month," he said. "That costs about $1 per pound, but only because we are able to purchase it wholesale."

Pausing in front of a large flight filled with white cockatoos, Mr. Johnson quickly paid much-needed attention to Charles, who squawked maniacally.

"Charles will do that all day unless you talk to him," Mr. Johnson said. "In fact, that's the reason we have Charles."

Birds come to Feathered Friends for a variety of reasons. Some bird owners discover that the care of a tropical bird requires more time, effort and money than they can or are willing to expend. Other birds show up because they are badly behaved or for health reasons. Many birds at Feathered Friends show signs of self-mutilation, with chests and wings plucked bare and often scarred skin where they pecked at their flesh. Mr. Johnson explained that tropical birds are very sensitive and often the smallest thing can trigger dire behavioral issues.

"Sometimes all it will take is an owner changing job hours," he said. "Suddenly, you have a naked bird. They stress very easily, and it can be anything - moving a cage, changing (your) hair color or getting glasses."

Moving from domestic ducks to exotic cockatoos, Mrs. Johnson pointed out Dakota, a bedraggled bird. When Dakota arrived, she said, he had few feathers and a gaping chest wound. Today, the feathers are returning and a small scab is the only reminder of his self-inflicted injuries.

Mrs. Johnson said the hard part is not nursing the birds back to health, but trying to teach them ways of dealing with stress.

"I mean, you can remove the stress, but this is often the kind of thing that becomes a habit," she said. "And it's a habit that's hard to break. I mean, breaking a bad habit is hard enough for humans. Imagine trying to explain that to a bird."

Mr. and Mrs. Johnson approach their charges in very different ways. Mr. Johnson's hands and arms bear the marks of bites and scratches. Mrs. Johnson remains relatively bite-free.

While Mr. Johnson leaned in to offer an affectionate kiss to Sam, a large macaw, Mrs. Johnson handled her charge, a smaller macaw also named Sam, with more care.

"They don't bite me because I don't let them," she said. "I don't put myself in those kinds of situations. But I'll tell you, if you don't pay them attention, if they don't get their way, well, they'll let you know."

Mr. Johnson estimated that given the volunteer and financial status of Feathered Friends, he'll probably have to stop taking in misplaced macaws and problem parrots at about 1,000 birds. Still, the sanctuary serves as an adoption service, so there will be some rotation.

"I'd say 90 percent of these birds are permanent residents," he said, explaining that most of the animals would never be able to acclimatize to another home.

Adopting from Feathered Friends isn't as simple as choosing the bird that strikes your fancy. Potential matches are sorted through a questionnaire and meetings.

"With the application, we can usually profile four or five possible birds," Mr. Johnson said. "That keeps us from having to show people 500 birds. The birds also have to interact with the tentative adoptee. We let the bird pick the people rather that the people picking the bird."

More education at the time of purchase can help keep exotic birds with their owners rather than having them pawned off at a later date, Mrs. Johnson said.

Mr. Johnson is working with the University of Georgia law school on adapting New Jersey's strict avian regulations for local use. If the law is put into effect, owners will have to register and band birds, and the birds won't be sold unless potential owners first obtain a state-issued permit. Mr. Johnson said that might ruffle some feathers, but he sees it as a necessity.

"I mean, I don't really have a choice, do I?" he said, motioning toward his charges. "We have 500 babies here. We're responsible."

Reach Steven Uhles at (706) 823-3626 or steven.uhles@augustachronicle.com.