Before I left for Sydney, a lot of Americans warned me about all the poisonous animals in Australia that will surely try to kill me or eat me—or at least cause me so much paralyzing agony that I might just die from the shock.
This isn't totally a laughing matter.. Australian magpies can actually be pretty vicious (clearly) and have been known to cause cyclists and pedestrians serious injuries. I take what precautions I can to avoid getting my eyes pecked out or something. I haven't resorted to this yet though:
I think a lot of this hype comes from what we all learned about Australia from Steve Irwin, but I suppose my friends are probably right to warn me about the notoriously deadly fauna of this continent...
What with sharks and crocodiles that could crush a Harley in a bite, a light-up octopus that causes respiratory and heart failure if you touch it, plenty of venomous snakes and spiders, a tiny invisible jellyfish that can kill you in minutes, and a fish with a sting that puts you in so much blinding excruciating pain that you just... die, I don't think the mythology of all the gnarly critters in Australia told around world is entirely unfounded. Even the sun is deadlier here.
What none of these self-dubbed Australian wildlife experts warned me about, however, is the birds.
That's right, the birds.
What none of these self-dubbed Australian wildlife experts warned me about, however, is the birds.
That's right, the birds.
It all started on my first day in the city when a menacing looking machete-beaked monster stole my macaron. Now I am certain that the birds of Sydney are conspiring against me.
Just a day after the macaron incident, I decided to go for a little jog in my new neighborhood. As I walked out the door and down the front steps to the street, the birds were singing a loud and cheerful chorus. I put in my earbuds, thinking what a pleasant morning it was, and began to run.
Just a day after the macaron incident, I decided to go for a little jog in my new neighborhood. As I walked out the door and down the front steps to the street, the birds were singing a loud and cheerful chorus. I put in my earbuds, thinking what a pleasant morning it was, and began to run.
I turned down an empty residential street. Not a single person was out and about that morning, but it was still a bit early. Reaching a dead end, I looped around and headed back down that street in the opposite direction.
Then, not even three minutes into my run, a silent shadow zoomed by my head. Startled, I took out my head phones and began searching around for the source of the shadow.
I spun around just in time to see a sleek, black and white demonbird diving straight for my face.
It looked exactly like this.
Horrifying, right?
The demonbird, I later learned, is actually an Australian Magpie. Males are quite territorial this time of year, and apparently are known in Australia for divebombing potential baby-bird-snatchers like myself as they enjoy pleasant morning jogs along the street...
The demonbird, I later learned, is actually an Australian Magpie. Males are quite territorial this time of year, and apparently are known in Australia for divebombing potential baby-bird-snatchers like myself as they enjoy pleasant morning jogs along the street...
Anyway, the demonbird dove, and I ducked.
Standing up, with a little extra adrenaline pumping through my body but otherwise amused, I looked around. The bird had crossed the street and was watching me from an electrical wire on the other side...
I laughed to myself and took a breath.
The bird dove again.
The bird dove again.
I threw my hands over my head, ducked, and dodged my assailant once more. I began to sprint fast up the street, still not sure if this whole thing was funny or terrifying. As I ran, I turned my head over my shoulder just in time to see the red-eyed thing a foot from my face again. I dropped down and saw the bird land silently on the branch of a eucalyptus tree on the other side of the street.
It went on like that all down the road. I sprinted fast, feeling completely ridiculous as I ducked and zig-zagged back and forth across the street to dodge these repeated, increasingly frequent aerial assaults.
Eventually, I must have left the kamikaze magpie's territory, because the attacks stopped. I immediately found some steps to sit on and caught my breath. The birds taunted me with their cheerful songs in the trees as I walked, feeling a bit defeated, back into my house.
Eventually, I must have left the kamikaze magpie's territory, because the attacks stopped. I immediately found some steps to sit on and caught my breath. The birds taunted me with their cheerful songs in the trees as I walked, feeling a bit defeated, back into my house.
This isn't totally a laughing matter.. Australian magpies can actually be pretty vicious (clearly) and have been known to cause cyclists and pedestrians serious injuries. I take what precautions I can to avoid getting my eyes pecked out or something. I haven't resorted to this yet though:
But the day may come.
I've never been afraid of birds, and I plan to keep it that way. Still, ever since demonbird day, I find myself glancing in the trees as I walk and flinching at shadows passing overhead...
Every once in a while, as I walk to work in the morning, I'll feel talons clip the top of my head or a winged phantom glide by my neck—and I know its the demonbird. Even on the stillest mornings I can feel his beady little eyes watching me.
I've never been afraid of birds, and I plan to keep it that way. Still, ever since demonbird day, I find myself glancing in the trees as I walk and flinching at shadows passing overhead...
Every once in a while, as I walk to work in the morning, I'll feel talons clip the top of my head or a winged phantom glide by my neck—and I know its the demonbird. Even on the stillest mornings I can feel his beady little eyes watching me.
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