I had a glorious late afternoon swim in a local ocean pool recently. It was a warm overcast day. As I arrived the last remaining swimmers cleared out under the threat of rain. The tide was coming in and crashing over the pool wall, providing deliciously cool waves of refreshment as I swam a few leisurely laps. I sat out on the poolside bench to dry off, feeling quite delighted to have had an entire pool to myself in the depths of Summer.
I felt less smug as I started the 40-minute walk home. As I walked along the street beside the ocean pool I heard the characteristic call of an Eastern Koel bird. In Australia, loud birdsong is part of the landscape. Australia has an astonishing number of birds and you get well used to the cacophony of birdsong at dawn, dusk and in between. From Kookaburras that sound like monkeys to the familiar squawk of the Sulphur Crested-Cockatoos, and the gurgly sing-song of Magpies in the morning. Australian birds are enchanting in colour, song, personality and sheer diversity.
There are some exceptions, however, and the Eastern Koel has a much less charming call than its cute counterparts. The name hints at the sound is a loud whistle, ''koo-el". Once you hear it repeated at all hours of the day and night, you are unlikely to forget it. Part of the cuckoo family, the Eastern Koel is a brood parasite, meaning it lays one egg in another bird's nest. Once hatched, the intruder pushes the other eggs or birds out of the nest. Now that I denigrated the Koel, they don't bother me, certainly not as much as it seems to bother some. Like many of the birds I will go on to mention, they have become the headlines in newspapers, the subject of research and filled threads upon threads of local neighbourhood Facebook groups.
Back to that walk, as I turned the corner, hearing the Koel call getting louder, I saw a man attempting, in vain, to shake a large Eucalyptus tree. The scene still makes me laugh. I realised what he was trying to do, and it was ludicrous. It was a huge tree, and his pushing the large trunk had no impact on the branches above. Koels are extremely shy despite their piercing call, there was almost no way it would have been seen in the wide open scantily leafed gum tree. As I got closer, I could hear that it was definitely not in the tree but in a dense thicket nearby. The man was wearing a brightly coloured Hawaiian shirt which was at odds with the look of utter dismay on his face. He also seemed a little embarrassed to have been caught in the desperate act of attempting to dislodge the Koel. I couldn’t help my facetious self, I said, “are you trying to find the Koel”... he said “it’s been going all afternoon” as he walked away from the tree shaking his head, defeated
It made me consider the hit list of Australia's least-liked birds. I think it’s fair to say that most of the birds that people are less enthusiastic about are the ones that have made the city or suburbs home, having either been displaced by us or flourished in our waste. The much-maligned Australian White Ibis dubbed the ‘Bin Chicken’ is endemic to Eastern and Northern Australia and prefers swampy wet habits. Since human encroachment on their habitat, most notably in Sydney and its surrounds, they have favoured public parks and gardens and what one bird website described as “human scraps” which I have to clarify does not mean they are eating humans, it is our waste they want. Hang on, not our waste, but the refuse we produce, food scraps in bins, in city parks. I repeat, Ibis are not carnivorous!
Speaking of scraps, another prolific winged scrap thief of the sky is the Silver Gull. They are relentless, especially where fish and chips are concerned. They favour beaches naturally or better still restaurants beside the ocean. Oceanside venues in Sydney including the famous Opera House have employed dogs to keep the gulls away from unsuspecting dawdling diners enjoying their food with a view who might otherwise have the food snapped from their hand. You’ve got to be quick. It happens with and without the dog, they are highly skilled arial looters with no regard for table manners.
Moving away from food, and back to the noise-makers. Noisy Myna’s are native birds, from the honey eater family. They are raucous birds who form large groups that like to chat. Loudly. They resemble a group of post-work rowdies in a busy bar, all trying to talk at once, squabbling, getting louder and louder, and then eventually succumbing to the night. They are beneficial birdies, great for native ecosystems, but like the other birds mentioned, it is in the urban environments that they have become so unwelcome. Speaking of Mynas, introduced Common Mynas are a type of starling, often confused with the Noisies. They are very similar in appearance and equally noisy. Common Mynas are considered one of the world's most damaging invasive species due to their territorial behaviour, displacing native species and their uncanny ability to adapt to almost any environment.
I don’t think the next bird deserves an ounce of ire from us humans, but there is some level of frustration with their extremely clever behaviour because it causes a mess, with you guessed it, our rubbish. Sulphur Crested Cockatoos are one of Australia's smartest and most iconic birds. I live in the part of the country where they have become the most prolific bin raiders. I feel terribly sad seeing these beautiful, great big cheeky parrots sifting through our mess. They have mastered the art of opening the lids of domestic wheelie bins, there are all sorts of methods to try to stop them but they have managed to overcome rocks, improvised locks and almost any means to keep the lids down. Instead of finding better solutions, we tend to see the birds as the problem.
Lastly, those gurgly singing beauties, the Maggies. They are quirky, beautiful, friendly, highly intelligent birds who form incredible bonds with humans given half a chance. Personally, I adore them. Science shows that Magpies recognise people and if they are kind, they will make allowances even during the breeding season. The breeding season is, however, the time when they can become very territorial. So territorial in fact, that if they perceive you as a threat, they will swoop with intent to harm. They have extremely sharp beaks that can cause real damage. Urban and suburban cyclists are especially fearful as their speed on tree-lined streets, under nesting sites, are cause for intense attacks. The trick with magpies is to move slowly. Thankfully councils are slowly changing their approach in favour of the birds. Rather than responding to complaints by killing or relocating the birds, they are embracing signage to make us aware of their presence. The signage means we can adapt our behaviour and let them get on with the important job of raising their brood.
The Koel chasing tree shaker was funny and silly. The sad thing is that he is the ultimate symbol of the unbalanced relationship we share with wildlife. He saw the bird as the problem as if the bird was intentionally harassing him. Our perspective is to demonise the animals suffering the ills of our inability to adapt and live with them, not the other way around. Perhaps except for the Common Myna, all of these Aussie Birds have a place in our ecosystems. Chip stealing, dive-bombing, rubbish-picking, squawking, noisy, clever beautiful birds, they all belong.
Some online bird resources…
Birds in Backyards A fantastic for anyone keen to get to know their local birds.
Big City Birds A fantastic citizen science research project looking into Sydney’s city birds which includes the wintagging that you can see on the Ibis picture above.
Bin Raiders - Cockatoos New Scientist covering our gorgeous Cockatoos.
Natures notes is proudly written on and inspired by Dharawal Country.
I recognise the Dharawal & Wodi Wodi custodians and ancestors who have an enduring connection to land, water and skies. I give thanks for reciprocity and acknowledge that this
Always Was and Always Will be Aboriginal Land.