Wild Emus at The Lilly Pilly Tree

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‘I most definitely do not want to mess with Greedy. She looks very intimidating, even in a picture!’



Wild emus have minor traits that mark their characters, readers; but good-ol’-fashioned aggression is what marks them most.



Now, Eric the Emu was in command of the house-clearing the day I got here in 2008. I have seen him back down, but he had a clutch with him, and it’s clear that all-out turf war is a thing that parenting males back away from.



I have otherwise seen him seriously thrash several other interlopers, on one occasion over three rounds.



Eric remained firmly in charge until the day his daughter, Greedy, took a twenty-five-yard run-up; leaped into the air; and walloped Eric clean off his feet with a double-footed kick to the chest. I was standing about twenty feet away.



Felicity, meanwhile, spent several years of her life skulking in the gums because Greedy just never ever ever ever ever ever let up on her. (But she bred the year after Greedy, here, with Noddy Big Ears.)
 
She’s big. She’s bad. She’s . . . the new interloper!




It’s dawn. Limpy Chick and GB are to hand. Limpy Chick seems uninterested . . . and so does GB.



Note that the interloper is skirting the clearing.



The logical thing, therefore, is that Limpy Chick should attack GB!




This is not uncommon. If a less-strong female is unready to tackle a stronger bird, she’ll have a crack at any lesser birds in the vicinity. Go figure!
 
'Frustration. Chickens do that, too. If a high-ranking hen pecks a lower one, that lower one will take it out on one below her.'

Ah! This is a good datum for me.
 
Yesterday, the sassy female interloper cruised right into the backyard, where Limpy Chick was enjoying her wheat. A wonderful non-conflict ensued. The interloper came to within inches of Limpy Chick, who did just nothing.
 

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