“Not sure why.” I brushed my hands off on my jeans. “I fed the cattle and managed to stay on the ute the whole time.”
“Well, he’s one thing, and that’s consistent.” She shrugged. “I meant to warn you that Troy’s usually in a foul mood in the morning. Doesn’t become half human until he’s had at least two coffees.” With a shake of her head, she smiled at me. “Sometimes not even then. Look, don’t worry about him. If he gets too difficult, you tell me and I’ll sort him out.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “His bark is bigger than his bite, right?”
“Ahh… let’s go with that,” Charlie said, then grinned. “Anyway, a new foster has come in and I need to drive out to the vet’s to pick him up. After you’ve had some breakfast, can I get you to start the feeding schedule?”
“I’ll go right now.”
Walking back into the rescue felt like the best possible way to spend my morning.
“You don’t have to?—”
“It’s fine.” I waved her away. “I’ve got this.”
She shook her head and smiled.
“Alright, well, if you run into trouble, you’ve got my number now and I’ll be only twenty minutes away.”
That wouldn’t happen, I thought, as she got into her car and took off. I waved and then started walking from the house to the rescue, when the warble of some birds had me pausing. They were big like crows were at home, but had black and white plumage. That song though, it wasn’t pretty, but there was something musical about it and that had me smiling as I watched a family of them yodelling to each other in the trees.
Only for all of their beady little eyes to fixate on me.
“Ahh…” Suddenly all the memes about everything in Australia trying to kill you came flooding back. “Nice birdies. Niiice birdies.”
A smaller one that had grey feathers as well as black and white started making this high-pitched squawk that set my teeth on edge.
Then the larger birds took to the air.
Swooping my way, I took a step back, then another.
“No, no, no…” I held my hands up. “I did not travel for over twenty-four hours straight to re-enact a scene fromThe Birds!”
Running towards the rescue, wrenching the door open, I felt an empathy for Tippi Hedren’s character that I wasn’t capable of before. I tried to slam the gate in their faces, but the birds came sweeping in. I let out a little scream, shrinking back in expectation of my eyes getting pecked out, only to hear an impatient tap. One of them had landed on the old fridge a lot of the food was kept in and pecked at it again when I looked over at them.
“Shoo!” I said, trying to wave them away, but have you ever tried to get a crow to move out of the way?
The black and white bird looked at me as if to say who the hell do you think you are? One of the other birds landed on the fridge and did the same, the two of them working together to try to force the fridge open as the smaller one sat on the prep table, beak ajar.
“Ohh…” I looked up at the feeding schedule. “Are you guys… magpies?”
That resulted in a louder warble and then more pecks at the fridge. Pulling the door open, the birds fluttered back and the sound seemed to summon everybody else. I looked around to see possums flinging themselves from the trees and going sailing through the air towards me. Young wallabies and kangaroos emerged from the shadows, their feet thudding on the ground as they jumped closer, then formed a ring around the table, apparently looking for their breakfast.
Only to be followed by an appearance by Nugget.
The creature seemed well and truly recovered as he ran around the enclosure, obviously in the clutch of the zoomies. He nearly lost his footing, then quickly turned around and made a beeline for me.
“No.” I put my hands out. “Nugget, no!”
But the creature slammed into my legs, forcing them to buckle, before he gave me a nip on my ankle for good measure.
I’d had so many fantasies about interactions with native animals in Australia, but none of them went like this.
“OK!” I said, peering at the schedule. “If everyone can just wait their turn…” But that’s not how it worked with animals. “Meal worms,” I read next to magpies. “A spoonful each.”
One of the magpies was already in the fridge, poking his beak at a plastic box labelled exactly that. Finding a measuring spoon, I opened the box and that was a mistake. All three birds were on my shoulders, inspecting the process, then lunging forward the moment the lid was peeled back.
“No,” I ground out, determined not to let Charlie down.
