GALAHS

Sometime during Creation, God had a bad feather day and made pink and grey galahs, which he inserted into the Australian backcountry landscape by the millions.

A galah is a species of parrot. Parrots are a class of bird that have a viciously curved beak at one end and a two-toed forward and backwards arrangement at the other.

Additionally, they have a crested head that can be used to send signals by way of a feathered semaphore system. For example, two long raised crests and a short one mean something like, ‘How about going somewhere quiet where we can make some eggs together?’
Parrots and galahs belong in the order of things that are scientifically labelled Psitticines and hence the lovely derivative Psittacosis with a silent ‘P’ and a deleterious effect upon your general health if you manage to contract it. Are you feeling dull, lethargic, depressed and don’t have the flu? What about Psittacosis or Parrot Fever then? You can bet that your local doctor will never pick it.

Galahs have a fascination for me. I think that later on, if I am offered the choice, I want to come back as one. I like their carefree insolence towards conformity and the blitheness of spirit that characterises them. Mind you, I don’t want to be reincarnated and then incarcerated in a wire cage for 40 years. Every time I see a parrot so confined, I am tempted to open the door and offer the chance of freedom.

The best way to meet galahs is at dusk, alongside the overhead telephone or electricity wires. It’s one of the things that I think is a quintessentially Australian feature of rural towns, the masses of galahs on the wires at sunset and the accompanying cacophony such gatherings produce.Galahs are not easily told apart by sex. You need to look closely at their eyes, maybe even into their eyes, and you will pick the female by her eye colour. It’s darker than the male’s. If that’s not correct, then it’s the other way round.

I expect male galahs have got additional things that they look for. If you should get that close to a galah, it will also inspect you closely in return. They have a special way of looking at humans. They tilt their heads to one side and give you a quizzical appraisal as if to say, ‘What sort of a galah are you with no feathers?’ Be careful not to allow a galah the opportunity to inspect your fingers, as they are possessed of a very efficient beak that can do real damage.
Galahs have one redeeming social feature that could benefit our complex sociological scheme of affairs. Galahs are monogamous, that is, they mate for life. No extramarital affairs, no infidelity, no lies, no deceptions, the one partner until death does them part.

Have you ever seen anything sadder than the roadside vigil by the surviving mate of a galah killed in hit and drive-on incident? Sometimes, mercifully, they die together.

Sometimes the survivor dies in another small cloud of pink fluff when the next car passes. United till death, loyal to the last, the twin corpses always make me think of my first and last wife, faithfully waiting by the wayside of life for the next vehicle to end her misery.
In the wild state, galahs can live for over 20 years and in captivity, for more than 40. I wonder if the extra 20 years are really worth it, if spent in a wire cage hanging from the verandah post of some country pub. I suppose it could re-enforce the monogamy thing, being confined with a mate.

Although not the best performers in their sub-class, galahs can learn to talk, or at least do a fair mimic of the human voice. I once knew a galah that could say, ‘Yerasillyolebugger’ and ‘Bychristitsbloodyhot’. Generally speaking, their enunciation is lacking and their vocabulary limited. However, I understand that galahs raised in close proximity to public bars can say a range of other things that I’d rather not disclose here.

In the great outdoors, galahs make their own inimitable sounds. Although capable of making softer noises, the characteristic sound that they produce is a mechanical one of the most unmusical sort. It is a high-pitched screeching that must be one of nature’s worst vocal performances. It is like listening to the protests of some doubly- depreciated, obsolete, un-oiled and rust-inhibited item of farm machinery, as it is forced into unaccustomed activity. When they meet in flocks, this sound is all-prevailing.

Galahs must serve some useful purpose in the overall biological scheme of things but I am unaware of what this is. By nature, they are wilfully destructive and like to shred things with their beaks and talons. You cannot harvest them for feather dusters or other similar by-products. They lay their eggs up high in hollow branches, way beyond reach. To eat their meat would be resorting to desperate measures. I am told that their flesh is like old leather and needs to be slowly boiled over a low fire for several days before becoming chewable.

For me their value rests with the twilight performances on the high wires above the streets. Here, with great enthusiasm, they will perform all manner of unbirdlike gymnastics and gyrations amidst a general atmosphere of social exuberance. To watch them at this play makes me envious, as I would like to be that free and untamed.

Who knows? Perhaps in the next life.

Peter Calder