Of four Bush-stone Curlew chicks born on the Little Darwin block in recent times , two fluffy balls , located at the front in dangerous territory near the road , disappeared almost on day one. Kookaburras were the number one suspects, although Crows had been seen thereabouts . The two chicks in the more protected back of the property came along well , until one morning there was just one left.
It caused the Queen of the Jungle to cry as she had been looking after the Curlew family while we were away for a fortnight . She suggested a blasted cat could have been responsible .
The survivor , above, about a month later, had grown so much it was about due to fly away . On its spindly legs , it joined its parents at the backdoor early each morning wanting to be fed. Gaining in confidence, it came ever closer, peered intensely at me , this strange creature . In turn, I bent down to be more on its level , addressed it in a squeaky voice , threw in a few mystifying bird call imitations, lamented the loss of so many Curlew chicks on Magnetic Island .
It just stood its ground and continued looking at me . Then one morning- disaster. Floundering about on an injured leg was the chick, its parents close by , as if standing guard . A wildlife carer was consulted and suggested it be left alone for a while and to make observations to ascertain the extent of the injury . If it was about to die, birds seemed to sense this and moved away , we were told .
At one stage the chick made it to the back of the property , the parents in tow . There it lay for quite some time , watched through binoculars , its eyes closing at times as if going to sleep . The wildlife carer arrived with a special pet pack used for retrieving a variety of birds and animals .
While watching the bird closely, a parent was seen rush over and gave it a severe pecking. Shocked by this action , it was decided to catch the injured bird and put it in an old Ansett Wridgways book box , a blast from the past .
Pretending to hang washing on the line , it was possible to get close to the Curlew family, whip around with a bathroom floor mat and throw it over the chick , which was flat on the ground . Squawking and hissing from the parents who rushed at me in attack mode, wings extended.
Retreating to the back veranda with the captured bird, followed by the parents , still in very loud attack , popped the protesting chick, wrapped in the towel , into the box, closed the flaps . It instantly became silent in the dark interior .
The parents also became silent . Then something strange took place . One of the adults, presumably the hen , ran over to the spot under the Lychee Tree where two eggs had been laid , one of the hatchlings the now injured survivor. The bird seemed to perform a distinctive dance, as if broody , about to lay an egg . Its partner rushed over and they both settled down, side by side. Had the shock of the apparent loss of another youngster caused it to perform an egg laying ritual ?
Taken aback by this peculiar and touching act , it was some time before it was decided to move the silent chick into the larger, pet pack , enabling it to see out . Not a smart move . The parents shrieked, ran in , one pecked the side of the container . The chick responded with plaintive calls and hopped about inside, not good for its apparently injured leg and maybe hip .
The decision was made to put the handy container in the laundry , away from the parents , to try and prevent the bird becoming agitated , jumping about . The door closed. Soon the chick could be heard calling ; the parents gathered outside the laundry door , near the kitchen door, hissed at us whenever we came near , extending their wings .
Things became somewhat quieter when the laundry door was opened and the parents allowed to come and go , at times one squatting down by the container .