Brian has been pushy from the beginning. First out out of his egg, first to struggle under Noelene and wake her from a useful nap, first to squirm to the top insisting he can reach, yes he can, he can; thrusting his runway beak markings higher and more often than Trevor. Of course he finds his way to more of the mush and later lizards offered. Pushy, in-your-face and vocal. First, too, to use his wings falling out of a suddenly too-tiny space and find himself unexpectedly leaving home.
In the end, Trevor was about half an hour behind. Noelene caught up with them in a tree, lecturing fiercely and secretly relieved. Nigel was notable only in absence.
Early this morning, a young, brash thrush landed on the rail. If it wasn’t Brian, the youngster was channelling him. Navigating tail feathers still too short to be reliably useful in flight, he perched uncomfortably at a strange angle and glared a challenge to be taken seriously. This juvenile was silent – perhaps not sure of the range and volume appropriate in the situation. Or under strict instructions from Noelene, perhaps, or only cleared to practise in the dawn chorus until he is two weeks out. No cheese worms appeared.
There may be another explanation, of course. The last three days have featured previously unidentified virtuosi at dawn and dusk. Searching reveals the calls to be those of a pair of Grey Currawong, in sharp double cracks of great volume and beauty. If they are of similar bloodthirsty prediliction as their black and white family, it is a dangerous time for an aerodynamically challenged youngster. They are fickle residents though, dazzling and moving on.
