A couple of years ago, as I spent my first summer in my current house, I was fairly interested in spotting all sorts of interesting birds that would pop in from time to time. Keep in mind that in India, the only bird one is likely to see is the common crow! (Well, not quite, but Sydney certainly does offer a greater variety of backyard bird) It was quite lovely to see magpies, cockatoos, lorikeets (the neighbourhood bullies, these ones - everyone who visits remarks how lovely they look, and they do look lovely, but they don't see how they intimidate other birds!), and the occasional galah bird and king parrot. There are other rare birds (the koel, for instance), but these birds were the standard fare.

Then, one day, there was a new kid in town. And how he made his presence felt! With a mighty call that sent chills down my spine the first time I heard it. I am not sure why exactly it did, it's one of those things that I can't explain, but hearing the call for the first time was something else. The other birds were obviously panicking, because they were all flying around and busily calling their other friends, probably for protection! The little miners, for instance, repeatedly chirp whenever a predator is around.

The problem with this mysterious stranger was that I never got a chance to really look at him. I caught a glimpse of him one day, but he was quite high up in the tree, and he had no intention of flying closer to the ground so that I may have a better look. I was intrigued, though, as to what this bird was - my first thoughts were a hawk of some kind, because its call was positively frightening, and the other birds didn't seem to like its company. Alas, I was unable to find out more - my father, equally interested in birds at this time, even got a book from the public library that had pictures of various Australian birds, and we searched it to find anything remotely like our friend, but to no avail. I toyed with the idea of taking a photo of the bird and submitting it to some bird watching society website in hopes of getting an answer, but this was easier said than done, for the bird flew so high that it was impossible to get a clear shot of it.

This morning, I heard a lot of commition again as magpies and miners were flying around and obviously under duress. I wondered whether my friend had returned, and once again thought about how I might identify him.

Would you believe it, as I sat down to read the paper this evening, there was an item in the Column 8 section from a birdwatcher who noted that the "channel billed cuckoo" had returned, much to the chagrin of the local birds.

I was excited, because I had a feeling that this was it. And it was!! After two years, I had figured out the identity of this stranger! Here's a picture of the thing (courtesy of this site):




Ooh, scary, no? The fact that it's a cuckoo is a bit worrying, because it obviously lays its eggs in other birds' nests, meaning that the other baby birds get "evicted" according to some sites, whatever that means. One can sort of feel for them, because it's the only way they know how to survive, but still, I hope it's not at the expense of the other baby birds. Baby magpies are the cutest things! (Can't find a good picture on the net, perhaps I will take one soon)

It's interesting that the cuckoos have this genetic disposition to act the way they do, namely lay their eggs in other birds' nests. They don't observe their parents doing it (because they're not around when the baby is hatched, tsk tsk), so there must be something in the genetic composition. Fascinating stuff! It really strikes me as amazing how an action can be a result of your genes. I wonder if, as humans, we have an inbuilt propensity towards certain actions. Probably those silly notions of love and marriage, eh?

I wonder, could you raise a cuckoo so that it went against its "natural path"? A cruel experiement assuredly, but just hypothetically, would such a thing be possible? And another thing, how did this come about in the first place, the idea of laying your egg for someone else to hatch and raise, hmm? Naturally through evolution, but still, what were the ingredients that allowed for this to happen?

Things like this make me realize that the world is truly amazing.