Alternative Media Group

THE NAKED CITY – with Miss Death, Jay Katz and Coffin Ed

Author:

Staff Writer

Posted:

Monday, 30 August 2010

THEY SHOOT COCKATOOS DON’T THEY?

Some months ago we commented on the phenomenon of flocks of sulphur-crested cockatoos descending on our urban environment and enchanting both Sydneysiders and tourists alike. The highly intelligent birds have become a familiar sight entertaining visitors to our botanic gardens and buzzing traffic up and down William Street.

Now it appears these mischievous and fun loving creatures have finally outstayed their welcome and only last week a cull was ordered of twenty birds accused of destroying property at the southern end of the city. The damage, as the Daily Telegraph reported, included, “Sills ripped to shreds, gaps gnawed between sills and walls, and screws and nails pulled from window sills.” After a damages bill of more than $100,000 the shootings, sanctioned by the National Parks & Wildlife Service, began. A birdbath became a bloodbath!

Whilst various theories such as beak sharpening and collective boredom are promoted to explain why cockatoos engage in this supposedly destructive behaviour, the jury is still out as far as most ornithologists are concerned. One of the more creative and credible theories advanced is that cockatoos are merely attempting to reclaim their once ancient territory.

Long before the white man set foot in Australia the greater Sydney area was home to thousands of cockatoos who nested in the lush and plentiful trees and enjoyed an endless supply of grass seeds and other tasty tidbits. As urbanization took hold the birds were hunted as vermin by the early settlers and eventually exiled to the more remote rural areas.

Now it seems the chickens are coming home to roost. The birds are back in town and on a mission to tear this city apart, often targeting some of our less desirable architecture.  We often underestimate the intelligence of our feathered friends and for every bird that is culled there are a thousand or more nesting on the outskirts of town, awaiting the call to arms – or beaks as it is in this case.

Perhaps there is an immediate solution to the problem, one that does not involve gun carnage and one that would finally give some meaning to a Sydney landmark that has long suffered a massive identity problem. Forget about angst ridden rock festivals and comedy marathons – Cockatoo Island should be returned to the cockatoos and the area become a sanctuary for this sulphur-crested delight. Here, free from human intervention, the cockies could gnaw their way through some of the ugliest buildings ever constructed and eventually reduce the island to a pile of beak ravaged rubble.

Sure it might take a hundred years or more but these hardy birds are renowned for their longevity and one day the island would be returned to its natural state, rich in guano from the accumulation of years of cockie poop. Essentially it would become our own Nauru, a natural phosphate despot right here in the middle of Sydney Harbour. Hey, just don’t tell Tony Abbott.

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