When Mulligan first set foot in his new realm, the little fellow had access to the garage/breezeway, house and his grassy yard surrounded by moveable pool fencing, the sort with vertical bars, each panel loosely bolted to the next so it was easily moved to mow underneath. Mully first explored the grassy yard, which had been well-watered for weeks in expectation of the new young Master’s arrival – wanted the lushness to remind Mulligan of New Zealand, the land of his birth. I feed the local birds, and any mates they may bring along. They are fed bread, boiled rice and pasta, scattering their tucker out in the grass the other side of the pool fencing.
Mully and I were home only a few minutes before flocks of allegedly hungry birds came flying in. Colorful Lorikeets, drab noisy mynahs, Magpies sporting Mulligan’s black and white color scheme and ducks – all eager to be fed, and fed they were. One of the most pleasing things was that Mully just watched the birds eating, no running them, barking or anything. Mulligan saw me accept and welcome the birds, and simply accepted them too. Then Mulligan wanted some food as well, so he was given some rice and bread, the pasta he left for the birds.
Despite this new “creature” being only a few feet away, the birds were totally accepting of him! As they were with Thriller. With Thriller, they would graze to within two feet of Her Ladyship. Her last few years, Thriller was unable to get up unassisted though generally she could reach any bread within that two-feet anyway. The birdlife was totally accepting of Thriller.
I thought maybe the birds had confidence in the fence protecting them, but some of the noisy mynahs and lorikeets ate rice on Mully’s side of the fence, and unmolested too – but by then Mulligan was busying himself licking up individual grains of cooked rice from the grass for himself!
Later in the day, Mulligan accompanied me as I took bread to the front paddock for the birds, mainly ducks and lorikeets this time. The bread would be broken into pieces and tossed out among the “starving” avians, with the odd piece being passed to the then 8-week-old Mulligan. Only when the bread ran out, Mully wanted more – so, logically, he ambled out into the birds to “share” in their bread – and they never panicked, all they did was part to either about four or five feet as he went in, almost like he had BO or something! Then they’d closed back in behind him. Did they recognize Mulligan as a junior Thriller, trusting him as they did her?
It was kind of like when then seven-year-old Thriller came here. Once her anti-inflammatories kicked in and Thriller could walk again, we started walking about the place of a late evening. It was July, wintertime here Downunder, twilight, and we’d been walking in the front paddock, then slowly made our way up to the top of the ridge – Thrills meandering, scenting here and there, but never more than a couple yards from me on a Flexilead. A very strong westerly wind was blowing from the front paddock over the ridge to the back paddock.
You know how sometimes you get the feeling that you are being watched?
Standing there atop the ridge, with Thriller sitting by my side, that feeling came over me! Our attention was toward the west into wind, Thriller inhaling all the windborne scents, me noting the scattering of lights to the west from our vantage point overlooking the small acreages of neighbors near and more distant. To the east is all bush, so there was nothing worth seeing that way. That feeling of being watched became more and more uncomfortable. Then I looked either side to see if anyone was about, nothing. Then turned to look behind me, and there only ten feet away was a big old-man kangaroo! He was sitting, short forearms dropped down quite relaxed, head up and a little taller than me. In the dim light, there was no indication of fight-or-flight on his part, he simply sat, pondering Thriller and her dad. I just turned back to looking into the wind, then about a minute later, casually took Thriller further along the ridge keeping upwind of the roo so Thriller could not scent it. As we were departing, I turned, and the old-fella was still sitting there, still assessing us.
Again, the kangaroos had no fear of previous resident Newfoundland, Ruggles, as he could wander among a mob of roos, me too if I was with Ruggsy, like he was vouching for his old dad. Same with rabbits, they had no fear of Ruggles, or me when with the boy! Did that old-man roo remember Ruggsy, and saw Thriller as the new “Ruggles”?
Arthur Witten
Mulligan – I like kangaroos, they bounce!
Sydney, Australia