noticing birds and remembering ruffles
Today, while sitting at the computer procrastinating on some study, I heard the noisiest racket outside. Birds squawking, loudly and overlapping. As it continued, I took more notice and became concerned that maybe they were in trouble - I'd seen the neighbour's cat in the backyard earlier this morning. I stepped outside expecting the worst, but instead was greeted with the most beautiful sight. There were probably about a dozen of my favourite birds, losing their minds in the bird bath. They were having an absolute ball. Splashing, playing, squawking, shaking themselves out and flitting around throught the surrounding tree branches. I stopped, watched from afar, and noticed I was grinning like an idiot. It made me so happy.
The backstory to why these birds are important to me. They are New Holland Honeyeaters, or as my partner and I like to call them, "Woo-Woo Birds", as they've become somewhat a symbol of good luck for me.
When I was a kid, maybe around 10 or 11 years old, my Dad and I went for a bushwalk with our recently adopted rescue dog, Tyson, down the back of our house. My childhood home backs onto a lagoon that runs to the nearby ocean, and was a never-ending treasure trove of bush tracks and hidey-holes that my friends, sister, and I used to explore all the time. You could walk from our home to the beach via this bush track that followed the lagoon. When they occasionally dug out the sandbar and let all the stagnant water rush out to the sea, we would be left with a lagoon full of a few feet of silty mud to wade through and play in which was a very enjoyable pasttime (I remember getting home, literally with a tideline of mud up to our waists, and my parents hosing us off in the backyard before letting us inside).
Anyway. On this particular day, it was windy and cloudy, and we were plodding along the track, following Tyson who was leading the way with his nose. Suddenly, he stopped dead still and stared into a clump of reeds at the lagoon's edge. The reeds were swaying in the wind somewhat violently, and no matter how much we called, he wouldn't leave it - he just kept staring. Dad and I left the track and went to investigate. Looking into the clump of reeds, we were greeted with a very unhappy and very small bundle of baby bird. We guessed it had been blown out of its nest with the strong winds, and gotten stuck in the reeds, thankfully suspending it above the mud and water.
Dad carefully teased it out of the reeds and gently placed it in his pocket. Tyson was very happy about his find (he was a good boy). I have always loved how my Dad treats and respects animals. We cut the walk short and decided to turn back home so that we could get this baby bird some help.
We got some advice from our local WIRES lady who advised us that it was, in fact, a baby New Holland Honeyeater. She gave us some baby bird formula to mix up with warm water and showed us how to feed the baby bird with a pipette, how to make sure the tube went down his esophagus and not his airway, and how to care for him until he was old enough to be released. Looking back, I'm so grateful to my parents and the WIRES lady for teaching and trusting my sister and I to do something like feed a baby bird. It felt like the most important job in the world.
Over what felt like a really long time but was probably only a month or two, we were obsessed with our little bird as he grew. When choosing a name, we settled on Ruffles, thanks to his little crimped tailfeathers that were slightly damaged from his fall. Ruffles would sleep in a birdcage on the kitchen bench. His home was usually covered in grevillia flowers from the garden so he could try the nectar, and the door was left open all the time. He would fly around and land on our shoulders and wasn't afraid at all. Over time, the cage went outside and he would fly off throughout the day, returning at night for us to bring the cage inside. One day, as nature has it, Ruffles left for the morning and didn't return. Of course we were sad, but we were also really excited to imagine that he had found a girlfriend and flown off to move in with her.
It was such a big experience in my childhood, finding and hand-raising this little bird with my family. Our home was often the place where strays ended up, and by the time I graduated and moved away, we had rescued and rehomed many, many wild and domesticated animals.
So, ever since then, any time I'd spot a New Holland Honeyeater, I would take it as a sign that Ruffles was doing well or 'saying hello'. Over 20 years later, my partner and I were househunting. We grimaced at the McMansions and Ctrl+C Ctrl+V townhouses, and sought out more unique places with, you know, trees?
In late winter last year, we came to the open inspection of the home we ended up buying together. One of the biggest reasons it struck a chord with us was because, as we walked down the driveway, two New Holland Honeyeaters zoomed past above us. I hadn't seen one in ages, and for two to fly up the driveway of this house?!
"It must be a good sign" I thought.
"You and your bloody woo-woo birds", my partner teased me.
Woo-woo Birds seemed to stick. On the day that we picked up the keys and came to the house, there they were again! I was chuffed. Now I see them nearly every day in our garden, little ratbags. I love them. I will sit and watch them for as long as they'll stay. Seeing so many of them having such a good time in our garden this afternoon brought me so much happiness, and I hope I can continue to provide a safe space for these sweet little things.
If you see a happy little Woo-Woo Bird in your garden, please tell them I said hi.