He lives in an unusual house.

Christopher Driggins, 42, wouldn't debate that.

Stepping into his living room is similar to entering the Tikki Room at Disneyland: walls are covered with treated bamboo shoots, funky music booms from a stereo, and ropes and tree branches swing from the ceiling.

Driggins has redesigned his house to accommodate a variety of feathered friends -- 18 at the moment. He receives damaged and neglected birds and nurses them back to health. The birds are given to qualified handicapped children's organizations and senior citizens.

Birds feel at home at Driggins' house. He likes to provide "atmosphere" to make them feel comfortable, he said. A small, ceiling television set displays 24 hours of "Animal Planet." Bird cages line the living room, dining room and most of the kitchen.

It's a jungle in there. But there's also a certain order. Even with all the birds, Driggins said it's only loud when he comes home from work as a Vancouver car salesman. At night it's as quiet as a sleeping parrot.

The first thing Driggins does with a visitor is make introductions.

There's Charlie, a barn-owl-sized Mallucan Cockatoo who tucks into Driggins' arms like a puppy.

Baby Boo Boo. An African Gray Timnah, preens like a cat.

Ruby, a diminutive Lorikeet, is most at home on Driggins' shoulder.

Caesar is the boss of all the birds.

Alenandria, Caesar's wife, offers secret kisses.

Tarzan is a brilliant Brazilian Scarlet Macaw.

The names and personalities go on and on. But most fun is dancing.

Driggins turn up the stereo with Coco on his arm, a bird about the size of a dove.

Coco feels the beat, and begins to bob up and down. They jig in place with sideways head bobs, figure eights, and swings: chanticleer grooving at its finest.

With the dance over, Driggins tells the history of each bird. Some were caged in conditions too small for their wingspan. Some were crushed or poisoned, others abandoned. Some needed mates, grew bewildered, and plucked out their feathers. Some were yelled at and turned into biters.

It's a household of misunderstood birds, now convalescing in various ways.

There's Sammy, a Lilac Crowned Amazon with a broken right wing. A cow stepped on him, but he's on the mend.

There's Rosita, a sad, molted, buzzardish-looking bird whose owner moved the $1,500 bird into a dorm room and left the cage open. Rosita developed a taste for spilt beer and started pulling out its own feathers.

"People treat birds like toys, " Driggins said. "They don't understand birds need a lot of love, consistency, and attention."

Driggins said his interest in birds started about 15 years ago while looking after a Finch for a girlfriend. He began researching bird types, bought a Parakeet, then a Cockatoo, and the birds just kept coming.

More birds arrived as word spread. People moved away and gave Driggins birds. Others couldn't handle their birds and sold them for a song.

Driggins brings in each bird with the same procedure. Each takes a trip to the vet for a checkup. A period of quarantine follows to make sure the bird isn't carrying any diseases. Then each bird stays in a cage in Driggins bedroom for a week, to teach the bird who his primary caregiver is before a move into the main room with the others.

Why does Driggins do what he does? "it's mainly for the peace of mind for the birds, "Driggins said. " But more than that - some people are cat people, some are dog people, I love to nurse birds back to health."

Driggins accepts donations of plants such as ivy and indoor jungle trees, bird seed, fruits, veggies, full spectrum lights, old cages, and unwanted birds.

He can be contacted at 1-360-BIRDMAN, or 503-BIRDMAN, 1901 NE 162nd Ave., Suite D-105, PMB #301, Vancouver, 98684