‘Totally wild: The day I swapped the lab for some emu chasing’

Big Bird was loose again. “Quick! He’s heading for the oval!” shouted the Year 8 boys. I responded by running towards the tuckshop at the edge of the oval, my white lab coat flapping as I reached out to catch the loaf of bread tossed to me by the volunteer mums. This wasn’t the first time he had escaped, so they knew there was only one way to entice Big Bird back and that was with food.

He was heading towards the centre of the oval. His huge legs seemed to take each step quite separately, as if he were calculating precisely where each foot would settle in a predetermined place. His head jerked haltingly as he focused on a curious movement in the middle of the oval.

Big Bird’s point of interest turned out to be ‘Chooky’ Fowler, the groundsman, hunched over the wheel of the roller, with his floppy canvas hat shading him from the blazing midday sun. The roller contraption puffed smoke, moved slowly and hummed loudly, preparing the cricket pitch. Summer was approaching and a smooth cricket pitch was serious business at this school. The noise of the little tractor drowned out anything else, rendering Chooky blissfully unaware that Big Bird was stalking him. Although Chooky was in no immediate danger, his advanced age may have made him likely to have a heart attack if he’d turned his head and come face to beak with the huge emu blinking at him.

There was no point calling out to warn Chooky, so I just had to run to catch up with them. The other concern was that the vast oval was bordered on one side by a very busy road, where the appearance of Big Bird could have caused traffic chaos. Distracting Big Bird was imperative.

Out of breath on the warm, early summer day, I finally caught up with Chooky. My panting and waving signals finally made him cut the noisy motor and he indeed got a fright to see Big Bird, his eyes blinking like enormous amber lights in his jerking head, examining some bits of grass on Chooky’s shoulder. We discussed strategy for a moment. You can’t herd an emu. I’d learnt that lesson some time ago. Those long legs just take off and you’d never catch them. After a brief few words with Chooky, I hurriedly ripped the bread packet open and began to toss some pieces of bread onto the oval behind me as I walked briskly, leading him back to the fauna sanctuary on the edge of the oval.

As usual, Big Bird was a sucker for some bread, so he just followed, picking up morsels and shaking his head rapidly as he swallowed, before darting his beak back down to collect the next piece. You have to wonder why an animal that big has such a tiny brain. Finally, he followed me into the gate, his long, powerful legs striding to some bushes to retrieve some more pieces I’d thrown there as a distraction while I locked the gate and retreated to the laboratory. Phew! Another crisis over. Big Bird was back in the sanctuary and some questions needed to be asked about how the boys had been careless enough to let our crazy resident emu loose.

Author’s note: The emu was introduced to the large private boys’ high school in the 1970s, as part of a two-year senior Biology project. As the Biology lab technician, I was involved in all things biological, so when the boys chose this project as their senior assignment, I became the supervisor. Most of the first year was taken up with applying for licenses and complying with legislation, dealing with various levels of government and wildlife officials. Eventually, the costing was completed and a suitable fence was erected around the area. Most of the planning had been done in the students’ own time and on Friday afternoons when the school had ‘community service’. During this period, I would transport the boys to a local wildlife park to learn about caring for native animals.