Real reason birds are angry

Ever wonder why Angry Birds are?

Or why some arb grumpy starling or mynah mobs you, literally out of the blue?

The possible reason has been wafting in my window for the last two weeks or so and pinging around my brain in my “office/dining/dining area”.

Do you have any idea how absolutely mind-blowingly annoying the relentless high-pitched screeching of a chick can be? The hadeda “baby” that is really the size of a large cat with wings has been perched on a tree branch about 4m away and it never stops. No wonder parent birds are so aggro.

Their breeding spot is close. I can hear the parents’ mating ritual of clicking their beaks and the morning and evening “chats” are so noisy that if I’m lucky enough to be out of the office and back on the couch watching TV, I have to turn up the volume.

But this baby, man; it is only quiet for the brief moment mom or pop shoves some food down its gaping raucous throat.

It is clear why birds outlived the dinosaurs: the dinosaurs jumped off the edge of the world to get away from the damned pterodactyl chick screaming for more woolly mammoth morsels.

These hadedas haven’t been very successful parents because we keep having to pick up and bury dead babies. One or two have been dropped out of the nest by a parent, making my heart stop, either because of the large winged creature dropping past the window and/or because of the loud thwack it made when it hit the paving.

I love animals with near idiocy. My geckos and ants and spiders live very safely in my home, even though it appears they are not holding up their part of the lease, which includes eating more flies and mozzies than they currently are.

I only ever declare all-out war against disgusting cockroaches, flies and mozzies. And rats. And those alates that fly in to set up termite holes in my old home which is built with truckloads of wood. I hate those because, to get rid of them, you have to move out and find temporary housing for 9 inhabitants. The humans (a cheap B&B) are less problematic than the furry family (faraway kennels) but the main hurdle is the nuclear-grade separation anxiety for all of us.

In spite of trying to keep a balanced ecosystem, I still can’t shuffle out of the house for a bit of vitamin D and escape to nature. The jungle is amazingly full of critters, with a huge variety of birds, butterflies, bees and bats. And a snake or two.

But it is also a magnificent home for the world’s biggest fleets of flies and mozzies trying to do a mammalian airlift. What the hell are the insectivores doing about damn pests?

Oh wait! It must be because they’ve all discovered the dog bowls in the kitchen. I know this because we had a rather loud kerfuffle in there and I’m getting more fleeting glimpses and squawks at the back door when I go in to make tea.

I cannot wait for the day this damn Barney-sized critter takes to the skies and goes away. Even its parents become more annoying; it’s normal for them to shout and honk and squawk when they need to talk to each other, but it’s not all damn day and halfway into the night. Feeding time, as any parent will tell you, can be stressful and shouty, but it usually only lasts until a parent tells a recalcitrant feeder to be quiet and grateful you have food on your plate. Not the hadedas ‒ they shout at each other until sleeptime.

Between them and the lousy music neighbours, my ears need a silence retreat.