The pest I’ll never forget: the wattle bird who dive-bombed me

Last autumn, I made a decision to assist native birds during the winter by placing honey out for the nectar-feeding birds in my Melbourne bay-side suburb. As the grevilleas, their usual attraction, hadn't bloomed, I hoped my temporary solution would help Australia's native birds survive the colder months. Magpies, pardalotes, and ravens would keep the population of common mynas in check, which were notorious for displacing native species.

The plan worked initially, as wattle birds visited more frequently and one, named Wally, chased away the mynas. In his initial weeks, Wally appeared thin and weak, but he soon grew plump and healthy.

However, Wally's aggressive behavior towards his own kind soon led to unintended consequences. He began to guard the honey dish and attacked other birds who tried to sip from it. This included a currawong, twice his size, and a grey butcherbird, which he wrestled to the ground after they attempted to compete for his attention. The normally melodious currawongs and butcherbirds disappeared, replaced by Wally's dominance.

I inadvertently created a dependency situation for Wally, exploiting the artificial, concentrated food source and widening the wealth gap among his kind.

As Wally grew more comfortable with his new, monopolized food source, he was now outnumbered by the mynas, who had returned to the backyard. Upon removing the honey dish, the atmosphere became tense and tense. Wally's behavior shifted from cooperation to aggression, as he dove-bombed me, snapping at my ears. This dependency born from my well-intentioned assistance now transformed into contempt.

As my efforts to restore nature's balance, distributing honey more democratically across my backyard, have yet to bear fruit, I remain hopeful that a new season of balance will emerge in both nature and politics.