An expert on Australian native
species says birds can have empathy, grieve after the death of a partner and
form long-term friendships
Gisela Kaplan
Monday 5 December 2016
19.20 GMT
It is generally quite well-known
that kookaburras live in family groups: a bonded male and female, plus a
retainer of their offspring. Numbers matter in kookaburra society because a
neighbouring tribe may have its eye firmly on the expansion of territory – and
may invade a smaller group.
This means the injury and eventual
death of one bird – most crucially of one of the parent birds – can have
disastrous effects for the remaining group. They could be evicted from their
home, which is likely to lead to their death.
I once told all this to a human
family of five. The oldest of the three children, a 12-year-old boy, had found
an injured kookaburra on the grounds of their own expansive rural property in
country New South Wales, and he had taken the bird to his parents, who then
rang me for help.
The bird had a fractured wing –
and 21 days later, after it was completely healed and able to fly again, I
asked them whether they would like to witness the release. They did.
Before the bird re-entered the
wild, I told them how important it was to the kookaburra family that they had
saved this female – it had potentially saved them all from eviction, and death.
I explained that we had to pick our spot well: territories were not usually
very large (some 2.5 sq km) and, if released in a hostile territory, the bird
could have been killed as an intruder.
I added that once the released
kookaburra had landed on a branch, the other members should soon join it, and
together they would sing a resounding chorus in triumph of their reunion. And
so it was. I released the bird, and, sure enough, other kookaburras soon landed
on the same branch and they all sang together.
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