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Chicky playing dead...little rotter .
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The stress and strain
of protecting the cute baby
Curlew, Chicky, from the killer
Barking Owl at night
is taking its toll . Chicky is not
helping things by stretching out on the grass in odd
postures from time to
time as
if dead. Oh , No! Poor
Chicky! Then it unravels
an ungainly leg
from a difficult
yoga position and jumps
to its
feet , no doubt expecting to be fed. It was thought
that
in 10 days’ time Chicky would be too big for
the owl
and other predators to attack. However, word came
through from a wildlife carer that another month would
have to pass before Chicky
would be safe. A month !
Already
I am starting to look like a
composite of the Portrait
of Dorian Gray
and a Police Gazette sketch
of Jack the Ripper because of
lack of sleep and worry about Chicky. At night, I toss about fitfully in
my bed , from
which one of the wooden slats has
fallen , the slightest
move generating a
noise as if I am on a
sailing ship bound for Botany
Bay , listening to the assorted
sounds, trying to detect the distinctive wuk-wuk of the owl.
This dog bark- like sound has also been described as the call
of the Screaming –woman Bird and the Murderbird . No
wonder my eyeballs are
hanging out , with associated dark rings.
Chicky’s parents have added
to the
harrowing ordeal. They foolishly took Chicky (I am not
aware of its sex) out of the
relative safety of the backyard, down the side of the house , into the cruel , cold (40C plus ) world. I shoo-ed them home and built a
Berlin wall which would
allow the parents to hop over, but keep their sibling inside.
Unable to sleep , about
2am , I could hear plaintive beeping
outside my window on the verandah and found Chicky , all alone, his parents apparently out cavorting in the
Pope’s Land. The parents
had parked Chicky outside my window , knowing I would guard
it while they
were away . When long awaited
rain fell one night , I went
and sat out on the verandah , rejoicing , and discovered
Chicky, once more alone , a bedraggled figure
on the lawn . My wife
complained tha t the noise made by
my squeaking bed , especially when I jump
up with the torch to see if the owl
is in the yard, interrupted
her sleep. An examination
revealed
that most of the bed end
screws were loose and
when tightened up peace and quiet
returned .
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Chicky, centre, with wayward parents
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But not outside . Frogs, flying foxes, possums, real
dogs and other strange sounds fill the night air, making it
hard to slumber . At 5.30am sharp the
parents peck at the
kitchen sliding door , demanding to be
fed, Chicky, not far away. One morning I opened the door
and went ahead preparing
the porridge for the
human occupants. In marched the Curlew parents , hissed,
picked up a
few flakes of instant oats
dropped
on the floor, and were ordered out.
Chicky now joins its
parents each morning tapping on
the door . And recently
Cockatoos showed an interest in the
lemon tree , despite it having been wrapped in
netting , and I chased them away
. Between Barking Owls, Curlews, Cockatoos
and senile decay , Cyclops is not
a
pretty sight .
