Edith’s Lyrebird

Edith lived alone on the slope of a mountain. Surrounded by forest, she cleared only enough land to build her house and grow flowers.

Those flowers were Edith’s livelihood. The food on her table, the clothes on her back and all her bills were paid for with the money she earned from selling flowers.

But on Monday, a lyrebird moved into her garden and he had no appreciation of her flowers. He surveyed the rows of delicate plants, looking for a good spot to make a mound. Then, with his powerful feet, he raked and scratched until he had a large, clear space, right in the middle of the daffodils!

Edith was cross. She looked at him sternly. He looked at her with his big black eyes.

Then he jumped onto his mound and … performed.

He c-RACKED like a whipbird, whistled like a wren and piped like a robin — just for her.

And all the time …

he shimmied and he shook
like no ordinary chook.
He was handsome. He was bright.
He had feathers bronze and white,
and some chestnut, black and grey
in a tail made for display.

“Alright. One mound won’t hurt. But that’s all!”

But on Tuesday, there was another — in the violets! “Oh no, he’s got to go!”

Edith was down on her hands and knees, trying to save some of the tiny purple flowers, when she had that strange feeling — you know, the one when someone is watching you. She turned and there he was, on his mound.

And then … he performed.

He c-RACKED like a whipbird, whistled like a wren, piped like a robin, laughed like a kookaburra and chimed like a bellbird – just for her.

And all the time …

he shimmied and he shook
like no ordinary chook.
He was handsome. He was bright.
He had feathers bronze and white,
and some chestnut, black and grey
in a tail made for display.

“Two mounds. But that’s it!”

On Wednesday, Edith was amazed to find another — in the Dutch iris! “He’ll ruin my garden. He’s definitely got to go!”

She fetched a large broom, a loud whistle and crouched down behind the rhododendrons. And then she waited. One hour, two hours. The sun set and he never showed. Edith was concerned. And if truth be told, she missed him. “Three mounds! I suppose so.”

On Thursday, Edith was confined to bed with a cold. She was miserable with no one to talk to. Her head ached and her bones felt old. She drifted in and out of sleep occasionally staring at the paint peeling off the ceiling. And all the while, outside her bedroom, she could hear raking and scratching.

Just as the sun was setting, a head popped over the sill. He’d built a mound — under the window!

And then … he performed.

He c-RACKED like a whipbird, whistled like a wren, piped like a robin, laughed like a kookaburra, chimed like a bellbird, warbled like a magpie and sang like a thrush — just for her.

And all the time …

he shimmied and he shook
like no ordinary chook.
He was handsome. He was bright.
He had feathers bronze and white,
and some chestnut, black and grey
in a tail made for display.

Edith smiled.

On Friday, and feeling a little better, Edith made herself comfortable on the veranda. She sat in her favourite chair with a warm rug over her knees and gazed out across the gully.

Suddenly, she was startled by a flutter and a clatter. And there he was, balancing on the narrow rail in front of her. She could have reached out and touched him. “Hello Boy. I wasn’t expecting a visitor.” He cocked his head, and wobbled on the beam.

And then … he performed.

He c-RACKED like a whipbird, whistled like a wren, piped like a robin, laughed like a kookaburra, chimed like a bellbird, warbled like a magpie, sang like a thrush, screeched like a cockatoo … and then he fell off!

Edith laughed and laughed and laughed.

On Saturday, Edith arranged for the carpenter to come to her house.

All morning the carpenter sawed and hammered. The sound of his tools rang out across the mountain. When he’d finished, there was a sturdy stage fixed securely to the narrow rail of the veranda.

Then Edith and the carpenter waited. They didn’t have to wait long. There was a flutter and a clatter and there he was, balanced on the narrow rail, making his way precariously towards them.

“Hello boy,” said Edith.

“Hello boy,” he replied.

Curious, the bird jumped onto the stage, and while eyeing the carpenter with suspicion, inspected it, every detail.

Then … he performed.

He c-RACKED like a whipbird, whistled like a wren, piped like a robin, laughed like a kookaburra, chimed like a bellbird, warbled like a magpie, sang like a thrush, screeched like a cockatoo and …rip rip RIPPED like a saw and bang bang BANGED like a hammer!

And all the time …

he shimmied and he shook
like no ordinary chook.
He was handsome. He was bright.
He had feathers bronze and white,
and some chestnut, black and grey
in a tail made for display.

And he
He tiptoed as he danced.
He posed and then he pranced.
He turned and gave a hop,
It seemed he’d never stop –
and it was all … just for her.

— END —

Read next story