I think of the peewees huddled up in the dark, waiting for the ear-splitting commotion to die down.

From Alarm to À La Carte

Alex White

I recently moved to Brisbane’s southside from the northern suburbs and timed it perfectly (depending on who you ask) several weeks before QLD went into lockdown for coronavirus. With nowhere to go and no furniture to sit on, (essentials only!), I spent most of my time on the back deck and in the garden. I soon met my closest neighbours, a plucky peewee couple, who had built a mud nest under the railway beams that back onto the property. It did not take long for the peewees to introduce themselves. With piercing shrieks and wings raised, they would perch on the balcony and yell at the strange new human and her grumpy old terrier.

Over time, the alarming “peep-peep-peep-peeps” lessened and the peewees turned their attention back to battling Torresian crows and noisy miners that ventured through their domain. Fast forward to now. Having never interacted much with this species, peewees have flown under my radar until now. I have since learnt that they are monogamous (with very low divorce rates) and highly territorial. It’s nice to see another bird give the noisy miners a run for their money.

More recently, I noticed the construction of a new mud nest by the peewees, located under the next beam overhanging the railway (as shown in my crudely edited photo). It’s been amazing watching the parents to-be take turns sitting on their nest and fiercely defending the location from other resident bird species. It would seem however that over these last several months some trust has been built with Mr and Mrs Peewee and the residents of my backyard; the peewees strut up and down the back deck in search of a drink or any tasty morsels dropped by the resident canines.

Sometimes I think about the deafening cargo trains that hurtle through late at night or in the early morning and think of the peewees huddled up in the dark, waiting for the ear-splitting commotion to die down. Or perhaps they’re so accustomed to their unique and anthropogenic lifestyle, they don’t even notice it anymore...

Author bio: Alex is an Honours student currently researching the urban ecology of sulphur-crested cockatoos. Through research, science communication, and community engagement, Alex hopes to add to the conversation on reconnecting humanity and nature in the modern environment. When she isn’t busy writing in the third person, Alex’s other academic interests include behavioural ecology and green infrastructure.

Sunnybank, Queensland, Australia