Meeting the “Bin Chicken”

Saturday 7th September

I feel new. I feel really new to a very old place. It’s fun but underneath is a discomfort. A mirroring of those who came before me to ruin this place. 

The first time I saw an Ibis – or “bin chicken” as they are cruelly dubbed here – it was flying. I mistook it for heron until Jonathan, Iman’s partner, explained what it was, and how it was viewed here.

A few days later, whilst SJ and Ali were showing me around campus, one walked past us. I had never seen something so prehistoric and wild exist in such an urban locale. Mistaking the red on its neck for blood, I remarked on how unwell the animal

looked. It was only a few days later when sat at Circular Quay that I realised this was the norm. Their large, distorted beaks, leather skin, and prehistoric movements are so striking when combined with their complete unwavering around humans and modern life.

A week or so later, I would head down the Tank Stream with Taylor, critiquing and commenting on local monuments and fountains which honour the inhabitants of Sydney prior to colonisation, reminding us of the memory of this land. I found myself thinking about the Ibis and how, despite the statues, monuments and signage, the existence of these animals in such a European-like city act as a living memorial to the legacy of colonisation and urbanisation on Country. Whilst building for one group, the other has stayed, reaching for chips and empty packaging instead of small aquatic life and insects. As noted in Amitav Gosh’s conversation in an Emergence Magazine podcast, “English settlers were quite horrified by swamps” and would approach their new “homes” with the intention of “trying to remake other continents in the image of Europe”. I’d like to think that the Ibis is a big “f*** you” to that desire. Reluctant to leave or conform. 

I suspect this won’t be the last of my explorations into “bin chickens”.