Scorned for its aggressive intrusions against our native birds, it is the bird suburbanites love to hate, but does it deserve such hostility?

The common Mynah is an untidy cocoa-coloured bird with scraggly ochre-coloured legs, a defiant swagger and petulant skip. Intelligent agate eyes gaze intensely from between its slick jet-black head and nape feathers. In the air, white wing patches flicker flimsily throughout its feeble flight. First and last impressions are of a totally forgettable bird, by the Mynah is no nitwit! In their homeland of India, they are highly regarded; they are used as nature's insect repellant, enjoyed as an artful mimic and kept as a family pet; a better talker than our own Sulphur-Crested Cockatoo.

The erudite botanist, Baron Von Mueller, dropped the Mynah bombshell onto Melbourne in 1864 as part of a clever plan to control the grubs on the English blackberries, a plant he had earlier introduced into Australia. At the time, it was considered an act of great vision, but now his actions are viewed less enthusiastically. Homeless, and with no taste for bush tucker, the forgotten foreigners were forced onto the streets when the popularity of the blackberries wilted. They scrounged for food and wandered like gypsies from town to town. Since then, these idle vagabonds have remained within the town limits, but continue to intimidate local bird populations with their roughneck ways. Nowadays, urban Australians regard the Baron's plan as pure folly, but environmentally, it was far less costly than the DDT and rabbit disasters of later years.

The modern day Mynah shares the eclectic taste of multicultural Australia, feasting regularly on fast food leftovers. Mynahs are distinctive. Unlike native birds, they walk rather than hop. With a gnat-like stride they stroll in small groups searching for food scraps of dim sim, KFC, meat pies and of course, hot Indian curries in the shopping centre car parks.

In October, the beginning of their breeding season, these rowdy rogues appear from nowhere and take over a location, dispersing other birds with loud raucous voices. Both sexes are alike. Their nest is crude and untidy, lined with grass and paper. During November, they can be seen parading curb-side, billowing nest paper wrapped around their face and neck like Baron Von Mueller's winter scarves, completely oblivious to the dangers of walking blindfolded so close to the speeding traffic. They lay 4-5 blue eggs in tree hollow nest sites stolen from the local native parrot species. Urban nature reserves provide the ideal breeding habitat for the common Mynahs, which are often confused with the Noisy Minor. This native species is quite aggressive and also moves around in groups.

Every night at sunset, Mynahs vacate the shopping malls and backyard gardens to congregate in the hundreds at communal roosts. These lie within a few kilometres of where the Mynahs feed or nest and all Mynahs, except for hens sitting on eggs or chicks, sleep here. Palm trees and pines are the most popular roosts. The returning birds squabble noisily for the best sleeping spots until nightfall, producing a deafening cacophony that is heard up to a hundred metres away. At twilight, don't stand beneath these roosts without an umbrella.

Don't mock the Mynah too much! Thankfully, its impact upon our native birds has been restricted to major towns along the east coast. But little has been learnt from the Baron's blue. Haven't you heard? "Genes are our future!"

Copyright © 2002 Rob Marshall, All Rights Reserved.