So, when we first shifted to our new house, me and my family were pleasantly surprised! “Such a serene place, it’s so beautiful.”, were our exact words. Unlike our older house, there was an air of silence and tranquility, and quite a relaxing atmosphere.

And it was true. Our ‘home sweet home’ sits on the lower floor, with an expansive balcony that faces a curtain of green, miniature and immense flames of emerald flaring up into our vision. Tall trees wave their branches, greeting us every excruciating weekday, whispering tales of the wind, and boasting their blooming sprouts. It’s like our own little corner away from the hustle and bustle of the roads.

Well, until dusk.

The moment the clock would strike 9, they would begin.

Hoots, calls, cries, and screeches. Every single night, again and again and again. They were a medley of extremely irritating, ear-piercing noises, truly unpleasant to experience. My sister fantasized that there were witches living with us(I don’t even know WHEN SHE BECAME SO MUCH OF A GENIUS, although they did seem alike to the cackles of a deranged witch or demon), my mother yelled at the bush or failed to ignore the beckons of whatever creature was causing sound pollution, my father rolled his eyes at our “overdramatic” antics and I pondered over what it could possibly be.

In that chaos and pandemonium, everyone forgot that the Internet existed, when the first thing we should have done to answer our crucial, burning, controversial question was search it up.

Controversial why? I was certain it was a shrieking toddler(Em was no less high-pitched, and IS no less high-pitched, and as ear-piercing as ever), my mother thought it was too unnatural, I’m sure you can guess the conclusions my younger sister mused on, and my father blamed it on cockatoos. However, I refused to accept that because I found them adorable and magnificent. A lot like the emu, except cockatoos are less than a quarter of the size of an emu…

Anyway, one day, when walking in a garden, I suddenly heard the same sound again. Convinced they absolutely could not be cockatoos, I browsed through a series of links, coming across the laughing kookaburra.

The pesky little bird had been the culprit. Apparently, their calls are one of the most famous of the Australian bush, one of the best known sounds. They chuckle, hoot, and cackle at dusk and dawn to symbolize their territory, to compete with neighboring groups.

WELL, GO HABITUATE ANOTHER PLACE.

For their competition, they had to firstly settle next to our house, and secondly, exasperate us endlessly.

Can you believe these birds?

Animals will be animals.

Like those emus.

☹

Eventually, we got used to it, and it became normalized. They can no longer succeed in disturbing us, because I KNOW THAT IT WAS THEIR INTENTION.

And the marking of the territory, totally.

Have you experienced a kookaburra’s laughter (or more accurately, their natural talent as sopranos)?

Signing off…