No, it’s not the accent, though I always derive some enjoyment from that. And from both sides of the Tasman. “Look at moy!” from Kath and Kim gets plenty of use in my everyday life. Of course, in New Zealand, it’s called “Keth end Kum.”
New Zealand birdsong, like that of this korimako, or bellbird, is superior to our Aussie cousins, Wyn Drabble says.
Nor is it the different names for some items. You won’t catch me saying “chilly bin” or “jandals” in Australia. Nor will I say “Esky” or “thongs” in New Zealand. In a New Zealand bar, I would never order a midi or a schooner. I think I’ve got the lingo down.
It’s not even the difference in dangerous animal levels though I know Australia has wildlife that could eat you for breakfast. On the previous visit, I was inches away from stepping on the biggest snake I’ve ever seen and I was wearing jandals/thongs.
Our hosts assured me it was not dangerous though I don’t think it would have appreciated my full weight coming down on its midriff. They also informed me that its home was in the ceiling above our bedroom so that certainly contributed to a sound night’s sleep.
No, the big difference that always hits me is in the matter of birdsong, of avian musicality. I feel that New Zealand birds chirp, chit and cheep. They warble, whistle and sing. They tweet and they trill and they tinkle. They provide a melodic soundtrack to life.
Australian birds just KARK.
I accept that’s quite a generalization so I could add a couple of synonyms – shriek, screech – but no word captures the sound better than KARK. That’s my generic Australian bird sound word.
Mrs D and I were standing in fairly open countryside in New South Wales when two currawongs strode up to us with a gait that suggested we were intruders in their territory, that they were in charge here. The first one spoke. KARK. The second one followed. KARK. I, not wanting to be an antisocial visitor, responded. KARK.
Wyn Drabble reckons Aussie avian choruses aren't as sonorous as their Kiwi equivalents. Photo / NZME
Research reveals that the common name, currawong, comes from the call of the pied currawong of Eastern Australia. They were formerly known as crow-shrikes or bell-magpies but onomatopoeia won out. I say they were misnamed and should be karks.
And the fabulous sight of a couple of huge white cockatoos in a eucalyptus tree will soon be accompanied by the ear-piercing screech they emit as they spread their huge wings and take off. KARK.
Australians quite rightly love their birdsong and a few years ago a 54-track album was released of songs of Australia’s endangered birds. I have to give a thumbs up to that and I’m sure that some of the birdsong would be sweeter than the picture I have painted.
While the Indian Ocean Red-tailed Tropicbird has been described as uttering tern-like shrieks and guttural squawks, the Eastern Grey Plover has a sound that is much closer to New Zealand birdsong.
But I defend myself by saying my comments are about the birdlife most visitors readily experience, not the songs of rare birds in isolated geographic pockets.
I searched online through lists of Australian Government ministers but there was no minister of birds to give me a relevant and pithy closing quote. Instead, on my last day in Australia, I just asked some roadside galah, if he or she had anything to say for New Zealand readers. Of course, the reply came (and this is an exclusive):
