A Cacophony of Kookaburras

The sun was trying hard to penetrate the fog rising from the river when I wandered out on to the back veranda clutching my eye-opening, life-giving mug of black coffee. I had hardly taken the first sip when the early morning silence was shattered by the raucous calls of six kookaburras perched high in the tall gum trees in the back corner of the garden. What an ear-splitting din!

My bird book informs me that the Laughing Kookaburra (Dacelo gigas) is the largest of the Australian kingfishers, but, unlike its cousins, its prey is not the fish of the inland rivers but the snakes and lizards of the plains and open bushland. Its call is a rollicking laugh, one of the best-known sounds of the Australian countryside. It is begun by just one bird, with others joining in until the full laugh is taken up by all. This sextet obviously hadn't read the book. A couple of them didn't seem capable of getting past that 'koo-koo-koo' bit at the beginning, while the rest were laughing fit to kill themselves in an 'I can laugh longer and louder than you' kind of way. It was not music to my ears.

I have learned from observing these birds that, for most of the day, they are solitary hunters, but in the early morning and as the sun is setting in the evening, they assemble for choir practice. This lot certainly needed it, but did they have to inflict it on me quite so early?

As I listened to their morning warm-up, I wondered how an American visitor might react if, while hearing this cacophony of kookaburras for the first time, he was surrounded by the sights and smells of home while munching on a Big Mac in a McDonald's franchise beside a bush road. Perhaps, if he was the timid sort and hearing this alarming din, he might be afraid to venture outside for fear of being abducted by aliens.

On the other hand, an Australian visiting the United States is able to take the taste of Australia with him in a jar of Vegemite to spread on his toast at breakfast time. Though, if he is from a bush town, or even from one of the leafier city suburbs, it may well be the half-remembered laughter of the kookaburras – even the lot in my backyard – that calls him home. One may not think of it as a pretty sound but the perception of beauty is in the ear of the listener.

It's enough to make any kookaburra laugh.