In a flap over bin chickens? What happens when an urban invasion comes home to roost

The Ballet Bin Chicken.Credit: Caitlin Glennon

It stood on one leg, a flamingo out of water, only grey and white of plumage with a long, slightly hooked black beak. Poised like a yogi in tree pose, it reminded my daughter of a ballerina.

Threskiornis molucca was a familiar sight in our neck of the woods. Lovers of the species might know it as the sacred or Australian white ibis; detractors as the tip turkey.

My daughter stuck to the colloquial for a story it inspired, and The Ballet Bin Chicken was born, which she wrote, illustrated and later read to her year 1 class.

As Sydney’s housing crisis tore strips off bank accounts, the crane-like birds seemed to be immune near our place, thriving high in the palms like oversized ornaments on a Christmas tree. And I don’t think I’m mistaken in thinking they were regularly hosting friends, family and complete strangers not only to visit but to take up residence with them.

Blame the widening swath of the metropolitan basin that has fallen under the spell of concrete, brick and glass. As the birds lost their natural habitats, they soon made peace with suburban progress by feeding from rubbish bins and populating trees such as these. It probably didn’t hurt that the crowns of the palms stopped just under the height of the nearest topological crest, safeguarding them from rifling winds. The ibis seemed genuinely happy.

But as their number rose like six-storey apartment blocks around Sydney railway stations, some of the same Canary Island date palms, listed on the “significant tree register”, began to suffer. Branches faded from green to straw yellow, even as droppings piled up on the concrete below. (It amazes me that years after landing here, none of my family was ever spattered by the white stuff.)

This infected palm tree in Penshurst, seen this month, was home to a large number of Australian white ibises. Credit:

Council workers would visit once a fortnight with high-pressure hoses to spray the crap from the footpath, although the nearest residents had to put up with snow-capped peaks on their rooftops.

Then, one morning, the bin chickens were gone. Every last one of them. We spotted bird-shaped pieces of rubber hanging from one of the trees and speculated on the midnight intervention that may have taken place.

In September, the St George and Sutherland Shire Leader had reported trouble with a colony in two large gums on Myers Street in nearby Sans Souci. Resident Garry McCarthy was reported as saying: “Ibises roost communally and this large colony produces droppings and faeces on a weapon-grade scale.

“Cars parked in the street have been absolutely caked in ibis faeces, paint work extensively stained and damaged ... The roadway often looks like a ski-run on Thredbo.”

The palm tree in healthier days, August 2023.Credit:

Georges River Council’s then deputy mayor (now mayor), Elise Borg, went into bat, and posted on Facebook: “I put forward a notice of motion to the last council to amend council’s tree policy to include a provision specifically addressing ibis infestations, which was adopted unanimously by my fellow councillors.”

From Perth to Brisbane, councils have wrestled with the need to balance thriving suburban populations of this native species with human priorities, resulting in the occasional cull, to the outcry of bird lovers.

As Jim Gainsford in the Leader reported, the birds are protected under the NSW National Parks and Wildlife Act 1974, but “if protected native animals are shown to be a threat to human safety, damaging property and/or causing economic hardship, the National Parks and Wildlife Service may grant a licence to the owner or occupier of a property, to harm [e.g. cull or catch and release] the animals.”

There was no notification about our disappeared birds, but the council told me: “In accordance with National Parks and Wildlife requirements and council’s procedures for ibis management, Georges River Council installed non-harmful deterrents to discourage the ibis birds.”

Alas, their removal will not save one of the trees in which they nested. “Council will be removing the infected palm in the new year as it is infected with Fusarium oxysporum, a fatal fungal disease that affects palms throughout Australia, which causes the leaves to turn yellow and the plant to eventually die,” a spokesperson said. Ibis were identified a decade ago as transmitters of the organism in Marrickville trees.

I can’t truly say I miss them here. I like walking under the palms with no fear of fresh poo on a shoe, or worse, in my hair, and without holding my breath to avoid the stench.

But I also feel wistful for their fate. They may not be the ballerinas of the bird world, but there’s something to love about a creature that looks so majestic in flight yet is humble enough to eat from a dumpster.

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