Meet the Currawongs

About a week ago we noticed a solitary pied currawong milling about outside, apparently on some important business, scratching in the dirt and peering into our windows. We’ve spotted plenty of them before, but they’d never gotten this close to the house.

He was standing on a table, under our porch. Jesse said (from another room) “there’s a currawong right outside!”, so I poked my head around a window frame – and suddenly I was closer to one than I’ve ever been before. A meter apart, nothing but glass between us. I was floored by his size and his brilliant yellow eyes.

If you’re a bird person, you’ll know what this feels like: a full-body freeze, holding your breath, heart rate spiking. Two very different animals making initial close-range, direct eye contact, recognizing that we occupy the same space, but feeling like an alien species making first contact. That brief moment of “what now?” before someone moves.

He seemed interested, nervous, but unafraid. Jesse grabbed some leftover raw chicken from the fridge and we went outside. The currawong flew into a nearby tree, assessing us from a safer distance. With slow, exaggerated movements, Jesse held a piece of chicken up high, then threw it onto the ground before walking backwards, offering food and space.

The currawong cocked his head, looking at the food, at us, at the food again. Then he coasted down, eyeballing us as he picked up our offering, and took off to stash it on a branch. Moments later, he was back; closer than before, looking straight at Jesse.

More, please.

We correctly guessed that he’s one of a pair nesting nearby. Their nest is visible from our yard. We can hear little baby dinosaur screeches, and using binoculars, we can see their little pink heads pop up when either parent arrives with food.

The mother will lurk around us and the house, but she won’t get nearly as close as the father, who’s become confident very quickly. He’ll see us enjoying a meal or coffee outside, swoop close enough to get our attention, and then stare pointedly at us from a nearby branch. He’ll even hang around just outside of a window, watching us move about inside.

I can’t wait to meet the kids.