| The Story of the Cuckoo |
[Mar. 2nd, 2008|11:28 am] |
Over the last few months we've our days and nights filled with the cry of a rather sad and folorn sounding bird. The cry is lonely, as if the bird has lost his mate and is calling for her, waiting for her to return to him. It builds from a slow 'Koo-el' to a cry that is touched by an edge of desperation. 'Koo-el, Koo-el, Koo-el' over and over again.
It was several weeks before we saw the bird responsible for the call in early dusk and night. It's a very shy creature, and at first all we saw were flashes of black and a hint of red.
Then one day it landed in my oak tree, and revealed itself to be a large, glossy green-black bird with a black beak and bright red eyes. We now knew what the creature looked like, but we had no idea as to what kind of bird it was.
More time passed, and one day I heard a sharp 'Keek, keek, keek' in reply to the black bird's 'Koo-el'. The sound eddied around the house as if the birds were both in flight, so I wandered out onto the front step to search the skies for them. Sure enough, the large black bird was chasing a brown bird the same size as itself, but with vastly different colours and markings. They ducked and weaved in and out of the trees, calling back and forth to each other as they flew at great speeds through the neighbourhood.
I figured that the brown bird must be a female. Except for the different markings and colours, she was exactly the same as the black bird. It appeared that our lonely bird had found a mate.
That is when things took a rather disturbing turn. In truth, the female looked to be a little larger than the male. There was something about her that unsettled me, and it was not long before we discovered just what kind of bird this was.
They were cuckoos.
One eve we heard the magpie-larks that nest in the large gum tree out the back begin to scream and call to each other. We rushed out to have a look, for when the magpie-larks cried out it usually meant that something big was in the vicinity. What we witnessed next set the hairs on my neck on end.
The female cuckoo was eating the eggs in the magpie-lark's nest as the desperate parents flew around the branch, calling and attempting to chase her away. She showed not one bit of interest in them, casually consuming the contents of their nest as if they were mere flies buzzing around her.
Then she flew away. We've not seen her again. I'm not sure if she laid an egg in the nest of the magpie-larks, but yesterday we discovered that she had indeed laid an egg somewhere.
Kittybird, sitting in his cage up on the back step, set up a warning cry that I am sure could be heard for miles away. He was not happy. Something had scared him. I have never heard Kitty make this cry before, but I knew at once that he was scared and setting out a warning. There was trouble and we all came a-running.
The large black bird, which we have since discovered to be a Common Koel, and a member of the Cuckoo family, and his brown, speckled mate have already flown north for the Winter. But their offspring remains, looking for the last of the Summer berries that grow wild in our back yard. It visited us yesterday, landing upon our Vincent's 'outside' cage. Vincent, who is used to being visited by larger birds, set out a cry, but was not too scared. Still, she went to sit down at the bottom of her cage, warily watching the stranger who perched up above watching her back with the natural curiosity of a young bird that has only just left its 'mother's' care.
I managed to get a few photos, because at this point I had no idea still as to what manner of bird this was. It's markings were very similar to the mother's, so we knew it was related, and while we knew it was a cuckoo, we still didn't know what kind it was. I took photos so I could post them here in my journal with a question to all as to whether someone else could identify it.
I tried to get closer in order to get a picture of its entire body, but it only allowed me to take a few photos before it flew away. I thought that would be the last we would see of it, but that was not to be the case.
A few hours later, Kittybird set up his cry again, and sure enough, the juvenile Koel had returned. This time it sat upon the clothes line. I was able to take one lone photo before it flew off again, but this time I succeeded in capturing a full body shot.
After I took the photo I went online and searched for information on cuckoos. That's when I found the fact sheet I have posted above and was able to identify our visitor and his parents.
They are undoubtedly a beautiful bird. I would wake to the father's cry with a smile on my face. It's a sound that is now tied to Summer. And yet, I find myself sad for the magpie-lark who have lost their babe this year for a second year running. Last year they lost their young to the heat. This year, they lost their babe to a nest-robbing bird who has no wish, desire or inclination to raise its own young, but instead leaves it to others to do so.
I am a mother. I adore my children, and while I've never really been comfortable with other children, the idea of murdering a babe and replacing it with my own fills me with abhorance. It is unnatural.
And yet this beautiful bird makes it clear that such behaviour is natural. It is part of the natural world.
I cannot help but wonder who it was that raised this young cuckoo. It was not the family of magpie-larks. Their egg was taken for no reason other than that they were a viable option for fostering. However, their nest is visible to us, and it's remained empty.
So somewhere out there, another bird raised this beautiful chick to adulthood, thinking it their own, caring for it in a manner that its own mother would not.
And in return, one day it will do the same, murdering in order to continue its line.
Such is life. |
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