Who’s a
cheeky
little bird
then?
Budgerigars are Australia’s
colourful, clever and much-loved avian
gift to the world.
_______

STORY BY SARAH HARRIS AND DON BAKER

_______

American film star Anne Francis
exudes out-of-this-world style,
sporting budgerigar earrings and a
skin-tight spacesuit in a publicity
shot for her 1956 sci-fi film classic,
Forbidden Planet.
  POKE ABOUT IN many a memory, and bingo, there’s often a budgie. In Mark Carter’s case it’s Bluey, an ’80s childhood pet last sighted in a gnarled old pear tree on the banks of the Annick Water in Ayrshire, south-west Scotland. “My mother hated seeing him in a cage so would let him out to fly around the house. But one day she left the window open and off he flew,” Mark recalls. “He hung around for a few days, and after school my dad and I would go sit under the tree trying to tempt him down, but he wasn’t interested. Then one day he was no longer there.”
  Fast forward three decades and Mark is now a zoologist specialising in outback ecology, living and working in wild budgerigar heartland. As guide manager at the Alice Springs Desert Park, Mark has experienced many wonders, but rates none so highly as a budgie murmuration. “People talk about things that are quintessentially Australian or really big signifiers of the land, and for me those big budgie events are the peak of life in the outback,” he says. “They always result from a boom season – where there has been plenty of rain and resources, the right pattern of wet and dry to boost the numbers. So when that happens it’s almost like an expression of joy in the landscape.”   To witness Melopsittacus undulatus in the hundreds of thousands, even millions, flashing gold and green as they twist and turn in unison to create billowing patterns in the sky, is on the bucket list of many serious international birders. But so enthusiastically has the budgerigar been embraced overseas as a pet and exhibition bird that many of us,

▲ Splash down! Wild budgies drop in to drink en masse at a WA waterhole. Numbers of this arid zone boom-and-bust species can explode when water is abundant.
even here on home ground, may have lost sight of the fact it is indeed an Australian native.
  On 14 August it will be 180 years to the day since the great 19th-century ornithologist John Gould, his wife, Elizabeth (known as Eliza), joined by two of their children and a servant, walked unsteadily down the gangplank of the barque Kinnear onto the London docks after four months at sea. Their baggage, including many dead bird and animal specimens, would be portered to Broad Street, Soho, later. But a pair of precious little parrots – almost the only living creatures to survive from the menagerie Gould collected in Australia – travelled to their home with them.
  Eliza had a sentimental attachment to those particular birds because they had been hand-reared by naturalist Charles Coxen, the younger of two of her brothers who lived in Australia. And they gave her ambitious husband an entry to the drawing rooms of London’s highest society – a parrot pass key that enabled
PHOTO CREDITS, PREVIOUS PAGE: TCD/PROD.DB / ALAMY STOCK PHOTO;
THIS PAGE: ROLAND SEITRE/MINDEN PICTURES
 Trained by gypsies to pluck horoscope cards from a box, the budgerigar became known as the fortune-telling bird during the latter half of the 19th century in Europe.
 A reproduction from a sketch of three budgies by Elizabeth Gould, who delighted in the opportunity to illustrate them in the wild, this plate appeared in John Gould’s landmark book series, The Birds of Australiapublished in seven volumes between 1840 and 1848.
the gardener’s son to ascend the English class system and rub shoulders with royalty.
  The budgerigar was first scientifically described in 1805 by English zoologist Dr George Kearsly Shaw from a single specimen collected near Parramatta, New South Wales, in 1792. But it was Gould who gave the species its full Latin binominal name and dubbed budgerigars warbling grass parakeets.
  Introducing them in his opus, The Birds of Australia, accompanied by a plate illustrated by Eliza, a talented artist, Gould enthused “this lovely little bird is pre-eminent for both beauty of plumage and elegance of form, which together with its extreme cheerfulness of disposition and sprightliness of manner, render it an especial favourite”. But even Gould was unprepared for how swiftly the cult of the budgerigar – or gidjirrigaa, as the bird was known by the Kamilaroi people of the NSW Liverpool Plains from where his specimens were taken from their nests – would take hold.
  IN 1845 A PAIR was still rare enough to warrant presentation, like living jewels, to Queen Victoria. By the turn of the century gypsy street traders were using the birds to tell fortunes, having trained them to pluck punters’ horoscopes from a box for a penny a pop. Writing in the early 1860s, Gould observed “nearly every ship coming direct from the southern parts of Australia has added to the numbers of this bird in England; and I have more than once seen two thousand at a time in a small room at a dealer’s in Wapping. The bird has also bred here as readily as the Canary.”
  On the budgies’ home turf there was money to be made across the supply chain by anyone who could contrive or carryba cage – bird catcher, wildlife dealer, farmer, innkeeper, sailor, even the lowliest steerage passenger. Being close to both the arid interior and Murray River breeding grounds favoured by the green-and-gold parrots, Adelaide became the gateway for much of the world’s breeding stock.
  The trade escalated with the advent of faster steamers. The steamship Souchays, for example, returned to England in 1867 laden with copper, wool, flour and 15,000 pairs of budgies, or, as they were then commonly known, shell parrots. The same year, Lycurgus Underdown, publican of the Hindmarsh Hotel in central Adelaide, amassed a huge stock of birds including more than 35,000 budgies, which he kept in cages behind the pub and advertised to ships’ captains.
  But the top cocky of the budgie business was one John Foglia. The son of a Swiss-Italian silk-making family, Foglia established a successful native fauna export business in Adelaide after migrating to South Australia in his 20s. Even though the retail price for landed birds had dropped from £5 a pair in 1855 (equivalent to 
PHOTO CREDITS, FROM LEFT: PAUL POPPER/POPPERFOTO VIA GETTY IMAGES; COURTESY STATE LIBRARY OF VICTORIA
Hastings William
Sackville Russell, the
12th duke of Bedford, was
credited, among his many
eccentricities, with training
the fi rst homing budgies
Dead budgies on bonnets were de rigueur at the height of the “murderous millinery” period of the late 19th century, as seen on this exhibit from New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Demand for budgies was a by-product of a general Victorian-era frenzy for feathers.
$780 today) to 8 shillings ($62 today) by 1881, demand remained high, as Foglia found. On one occasion he sold 16,000 budgerigars to a single dealer, observing “it took three of us three days from 7 o’clock in the morning to 7 o’clock at night to count them”. Between 1885 and 1909 Foglia shipped, by his own estimate, an average of 40,000 birds a year, the overwhelming majority of which were budgies.
  The birds that survived the sea voyage packed tight in tiered, wire-fronted cages to be cooed at in cooler climes were in some respect the lucky ones. Parrot pie was still on the colonial menu, and, as late as 1882, the SA Gun Club was recorded as substituting budgies for pigeons when they were “not up to mark” on its shooting ground at the Morphettville Racecourse. But the open season on budgies was about to be brought to  an end by one of the world’s fledgling conservation movements.
  In many ways demand for budgies was a by-product of a general Victorian-era frenzy for feathers that saw birds simultaneously admired, hunted, plucked and stuffed en masse in the name of fashion. One of the more modest examples of the “murderous millinery” period is an 1890 silk, lace and velvet bonnet topped with three dead budgies and held in New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art collection (see above right).
  Growing outrage over the feather trade, which saw more than 1.5 million pounds (680 tonnes) of plumage go through London’s Mincing Lane auction houses annually, crystallised as more and more bird species were pushed to the brink.
  In 1894 the first Australian branch of the Society for the Protection of Birds was formed in Adelaide and included a good number of influential local matrons who, in accordance with the rules of the organisation, eschewed the wearing of feathers.
  IN 1897 THE SOCIETY made an impassioned plea for bird welfare in a deputation to the state government that included in its case “budgerigars taken to England by the masters of ships …the birds were often crushed in a small space, where large numbers of them died on the voyage”.
  These early animal rights campaigners’ efforts were rewarded with the introduction of the Birds Protection Act 1900 (SA), which, for the first time, offered the budgie some safety for at least part of the year. The introduction of a closed season in SA, which prohibited the trapping and exporting of budgies between 1 July and 12 January, had a significant impact on the trade.
  Incredibly, the wholesale capture of these hardy little birds for decades hardly seemed to have made a dent on their wild population. One of the great strengths of the species is its ability to breed very quickly, with populations exploding into millions in good times and plummeting in the bad.
  So it was, in January 1932, when a heatwave gripped Central Australia with temperatures averaging from 46.7℃ to 52℃ for 16 successive days. At Paratoo, about three and a half hours north of Adelaide, witnesses reported how budgies escaping the ferocious heat darkened the sky from 5am to 8am as they passed overhead at an estimated rate of 1–10 million every 10 minutes.
  Millions more didn’t make it. At Kokatha Station, one of the westernmost homesteads in SA, it was a scene of devastation, with 5 tonnes of parrots, drowned by the weight of waves of desperate new arrivals, removed from a single dam.
  Today the budgie remains the quintessential Australian bird in the wild while at the same time retaining its perch as the planet’s most popular pet bird and most competitively exhibited avian species. Adaptable, intelligent and hardy, it had obvious 
PHOTO CREDITS, FROM LEFT: GETTY IMAGES; SILK BONNET WITH BUDGIE TOPPERS, CA. 1890 (GIFT OF SUSAN DWIGHT BLISS, 1937. METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART); OPPOSITE PAGE, FROM TOP: SHUTTERSTOCK; ROLAND SEITRE/MINDEN PICTURES
The budgie rainbow may
not include a true pink but
there are up to 3000 possible
combinations of colours,
patterns and markings.
Calculating
colour
   PETER GLASSENBURY was just a kid in short
pants when his dad, Les, famously fronted up to his local bird club in Port Pirie, SA, with a pink budgie. “He had dipped it in beetroot juice as a joke,” Peter, who is coordinator of the Australian National Budgerigar Council (ANBC) colour and standards committee, recalls with a chuckle.
   More than 60 years on and bookmakers still consider the odds of producing a definitively pink budgie as only marginally less likely than the Loch Ness monster surfacing.
   The reason the pink budgie remains as elusive as a unicorn is because, unlike 80 per cent of 350 parrot species, there is no red pigment in the genetic makeup of Melopsittacus undulatus.
   But what the budgie lacks at one end of the spectrum it more than makes up for with an array of genes that, through selective breeding, allows up to 3000 possible combinations of colours, patterns and markings.
   No bird species on Earth has had such close attention paid to its genetics by so many. The modern exhibition budgie strutting its stuff on the show bench represents more than 150 years of selective breeding, including inbreeding or line breeding, to conform to avian supermodel standards. These budgezillas are more than twice the size of the original wild type and also larger than the pet shop variety.
   Wild budgies average 18–20cm in length and weigh 25–30g. Exhibition birds weigh 60–70g and have an ideal length of 24cm with pet shop birds falling in between. As high school biology students know, Gregor Mendel, founder of the science of genetics, studied pea plants ad nauseum to determine how traits are passed on from generation to generation.

During 150 years of selective breeding in captivity, the lithe little bush budgie has been pushed to a budgezilla, more than double the size of its wild, free-flying cousin.
   But even before Mendel died and his masterwork on the principles of inheritance was posthumously recognised, budgerigar breeders were unknowingly following similar lines trying to reproduce first yellow and then blue birds, which had tantalisingly appeared in European aviaries in the 1870s.
   Within the DNA of the budgerigar there’s a range of genes and genetic mutations that can influence colour and marking. Some of those traits are dominant, some recessive, and others are sex-linked.
   A Stanford University study recently found that just as people with blue eyes have a single common ancestor, all blue budgies are derived from a single ancestor – the result of a single amino acid substitution on one gene.
   More than 150 years of selective breeding has done nothing to alter the fact that the green gene remains dominant and if all the myriad coloured budgies in the world were left to breed freely, they would eventually turn green again.
Bluey and Liquorice make a dashing pair as
part of Leila Jeffreys’ acclaimed exhibition series
that’s been shown in both Sydney and New York.
Leila's high
society
   High Society is an ambitious photographic project and travelling exhibition by Australian photographer and budgie fan Leila Jeffreys (right). It began when she noticed how a flock of wild budgerigars appeared like leaves on a tree. “Looking closer, I saw individuals, couples and families – a secret High Society,” Leila says. Taking more than five years to complete the body of work, Leila sometimes had 300 or more budgies inside a photographic studio. High Society reveals a beautiful bird society through stills photography and video art. Acclaimed for her artistic vision and intuitive approach, Leila captures a vivid sense of personality in each of her feathered subjects. Every portrait is a commentary on the need to preserve wildlife societies and their habitats. “There exists a symbiotic relationship between birds and trees,” Leila says. “Their survival depends on each other. We depend on them. High Society serves as a visual reminder to leave wild places for these other societies to enjoy, as well as our own.”

appeal as a pet even before the first colour mutations appeared in European aviaries in the late 19th century.
     THE APPEARANCE OF the first yellow and blue budgies in aviaries in Belgium in the 1870s sparked a craze for colour. By the 1920s birds of a rare-hued feather were attracting princely sums. Japanese nobility, led by Emperor Hirohito, ignited an extraordinary boom in the budgerigar market when the birds became popular as betrothal gifts from the families of wealthy grooms to their brides-to-be. In 1927 one member of the Imperial Household paid £175 (equivalent to more than $20,000 today) for a single blue budgie.
     The blue parrots were so prized that the British bestowed them upon the 14th Dalai Lama when he was enthroned in Lhasa, Tibet, in 1940. Two pairs of budgerigars, bounced across the Himalayas in below-zero temperatures on pack mules, proved far more interesting to the then four-year-old Tenzin Gyatso than the freshly minted gold bar, 10 bags of silver and other gifts that accompanied them.
     Budgie fanciers have included some of the world’s most prominent figures. Toby the budgie used to perch on the pen of British prime minister Winston Churchill. And the Queen once exhibited birds when still a princess. To this day a flight of royal homing budgies is maintained, complete with their specially designated keeper. A young Richard Branson recorded his first entrepreneurial success breeding budgies as a teenager.
     By the 1950s and 1960s budgies could be found perched in every fifth household in Australia, the UK and Canada. In the USA, where the birds are known as parakeets, they were no less ubiquitous and found themselves at home in the White House as pets of John F. Kennedy’s children
PHOTO CREDITS, FROM LEFT: LEILA JEFFREYS; MIRRORPIX/GETTY IMAGES
Celebrity budgies     LONG BEFORE UK pop star Robbie Williams, Sparkie Williams was a leading recording star of his day. Sparkie had a vocabulary of 583 words, including eight complete nursery rhymes. He first came to the world’s attention in 1958 after beating 2768 other entrants in a BBC talking bird competition.
     He went on to front a birdseed campaign and make a record that sold 20,000 copies. On its B side he plays gangster Sparkie the Fiddle and Australian actress Lorrae Desmond plays his moll.
     Sparkie toured the country with owner Mattie Williams until he died, aged eight, in 1962. Acclaimed by Guinness World Records as the world’s most outstanding talking bird, Sparkie can now be seen stuffed at the Great North Museum: Hancock in Newcastle upon Tyne in the UK.
     Australia’s own celebrity budgerigar, Billy Peach, also made recordings and appeared in a 1947 documentary film called Time Off.
     Billy had a vocabulary of about 500 words and attracted lines of fans when he appeared at Sydney and Melbourne department stores in the 1940s. He also did his bit for the war effort, raising 40 times his own weight in coins when he was exhibited at Taronga Zoo spouting patriotic phrases such as “What are you doing, pet: making socks for soldiers?”
     The most famous modern budgie by far was Disco. As the first true budgerigar internet superstar, with his own YouTube channel and videos viewed more than 19 million times, Disco the Parakeet was compulsory viewing for many.
     The New York bird’s Facebook blurb said he could “beatbox, snore, bark and meow better than some cats”. He even learnt some Swedish to talk to a feathered fan base in Malmö.
     Disco’s January 2017 death prompted an outpouring of sentiment on social media with his death notice attracting 10,000 likes, 3700 consoling comments and 1300 shares.
A global export
Twittering away in the homes of the
rich and famous and families next door.

President John F. Kennedy
and the first family kept
budgies in the White House.
Bluebell and Maybelle are
pictured here with first lady
Jacqueline and children
Caroline and JFK junior.
Top British supermodel of the swinging ’60s, Twiggy was one of a number of stars enlisted to help promote the budgie in the days when the Budgerigar Information Bureau was an actual thing.
Parakeets, as they are known in the USA, proved popular props for promotional purposes. American actress and opera singer Kathryn Grayson is seen here with a tweet companion in the early ’50s.
PHOTO CREDITS, CLOCKWISE FROM TOP: CECIL STOUGHTON / WHITE HOUSE PHOTOGRAPHS / JOHN F. KENNEDY
PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY AND MUSEUM, BOSTON; MICHAEL OCHS ARCHIVES / GETTY IMAGES; GEORGE WILKES / HULTON ARCHIVE/GETTY IMAGES
British holiday camp entrepreneur Sir Billy Butlin (le­ft) in 1967 with some of the 3000 budgies he kept at his Zerkshire home. A single pet bird in a small cage with a few accessories (below) was more usual in mid-20th century homes.
No-one can smoulder with a bird on the
shoulder quite like American movie icon
Clint Eastwood, pictured here at home with
his first wife, Maggie Johnson, in 1959.
PHOTO CREDITS, CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: DAVID CAIRNS / DAILY EXPRESS / GETTY IMAGES; H. ARMSTRONG ROBERTS/CLASSICSTOCK / GETTY IMAGES; CBS PHOTO ARCHIVE / GETTY IMAGE
The Ngatijirri Tjukurrpa (Budgerigar Dreaming) site depicted here by Dora Napaljarri Kitson (pictured below right) is at Yangarnmpi, south of Yuendumu in Central Australia. Each time flocks of ancestral budgerigars landed here the community members performed ceremonies and sang and danced as they flew and roosted in the trees. The sites of these ceremonies are depicted in this painting as concentric circles. Cross-like shapes depict the footprints of birds on the ground and give an indication of the large flocks occurring there.
Always was,
always will be
     THERE’S NO question the word budgerigar
is derived from Aboriginal languages, albeit corrupted by clumsy colonial attempts to record it.
     Since the earliest inhabitants first set foot on Australian soil more than 50,000 years ago they have known the budgerigar.
     The oldest evidence of the budgie is a foot bone found in Rackham’s Roost in the World Heritage-listed fossil ground of Riversleigh in north-western Queensland. It’s estimated to be at least 1.1–2.8 million years old, considerably pre-dating anatomically modern humans.
     Strongly associated with the getting of wisdom, the budgie is embedded in paintings, stories, songs and ceremonies of many different Aboriginal nations.
     In the continent’s harsh heart, the birds served as bellwethers, heralding rain and signposting food and water for nomadic desert groups who closely observed their seasonal movements.
     Budgerigars famously feature in the Tjukurrpa – The Dreaming – depicted in the art of the Warlpiri people whose country is centred in the Northern Territory’s Tanami Desert.

Dora Napaljarri Kitson, a Warlpiri woman from the Yuendumu Community, uses traditional iconography and symbols to depict her Ngatijirri Tjukurrpa (Budgerigar Dreaming).
     Here, the budgerigar is known as ngatijirri and is a recurring motif in the art of its custodians, expressed by both the footprints of the birds on the ground and cross-sectional views of the birds in flight. These artful expressions of country offer clues to the location of water and ceremonial
sites. Young desert men are taught the ancient wisdom of the Budgerigar Dreaming path, learning key locations through songlines and sand drawings during initiation ceremonies. The birds often bear witness to key events of Aboriginal law.
     Thrown onto the ashes of small fires and with all the feathers singed off, they also made good eating and provided valuable protein. The eggs and baby birds were considered delicacies right across the tribal groups whose territory they shared.
THE ARTIST DORA KITSON LICENSED BY ABORIGINAL ARTISTS AGENCY LTD FOR WWW.WARLU.COM PHOTO CREDIT, DORA KITSON: CECILIA ALFONSO OF WARLUKURLANGU ARTISTS
Breeding success     Dubbed ‘The Guru’ by fellow United Budgerigar Society members, Alan Rowe first became a budgie fancier as a 16 year old, after seeing “all these colourful little budgies with their big ribbons” at the Royal Melbourne Show. Now aged 80, Alan is like a grandmaster of breeding and showing budgies, having clocked up 16 national championship class wins. He has judged national shows as well as in New Zealand, Germany and England as part of the World Budgerigar Organisation Panel of Judges. In 1994 his achievements earned him a place in the Australian National Budgerigar Council Hall of Fame and although he has now retired from judging, he remains very competitive as a breeder. The appeal, Alan says, lies in the challenge of trying to breed birds that most closely meet the standard. “I probably don’t get as much pleasure out of how they act and carry on now like I did when I first started,” he admits. “I look at them now with the standard in mind.” A budgie is judged on a range of values including size, shape, condition, proportions, the texture of its feathers and how it holds itself on the perch.Budgerigar was used to describe soldiers who frequently wrote to wives or girlfriends.and also in the homes of such celebrities as Marilyn Monroe and Clint Eastwood. Even the domestic terrorist known as the Unabomber had a pet parakeet as a child.
   The birds became embedded in popular culture, arriving in earnest when a budgie called Joey was written into the long-running BBC radio drama The Archers in 1953. They later also found roles in hit British sitcoms such as Porridge, Bless This House and George and Mildred.
   The word budgerigar naturally became enshrined in Aussie slang. A “dunny budgie” is a giant blowfly, while “budgie balls” reflects quite the opposite view of testicles. In World War II the word budgerigar was used to describe soldiers who frequently wrote to wives or girlfriends. If a tent had a number of budgerigars it became “an aviary” in army lingo.
   More recently, the late, great comic genius John Clarke, who was born in New Zealand but lived and worked in Australia from the 1970s, coined the profoundly ego-withering term “budgie smugglers” as a descriptor for the type of swimming briefs favoured by surf lifesavers and former Australian prime minister Tony Abbott. That phrase found its way into the Oxford Dictionary in 2016.
   The birds’ tweety image has been used to sell everything: whisky, waffle syrup, laundry detergent, home loans and even cigarettes. The John Player brand of collectable cigarette trading card sets included budgerigars while a magazine ad for Old Gold, a US cigarette brand, featured one sitting on the fingers of a hand holding a lit cigarette.
   Budgie owners also represented an incredibly lucrative market during the ’50s and ’60s, with firms such as American Bird Products offering everything from moulting food, blood tonic, bird wash, bird bitters, mating food and vitamins to boxes of fluff for nesting material and deluxe centrally heated cages with automated showers. But the pièce de résistance of marketing mojo reflected the explosion of products in the sanitary category, with a tiny, cotton-knit parakeet diaper, or budgie nappy.
   The budgie has been painted by masters, rendered in the finest porcelain, modelled in plastic, bred artificially in test tubes, used as laboratory subjects to study hearing, vocal communication and aerodynamics, and depicted on the postage stamps of more than 30 nations, from Antigua and Barbuda to Zambia.
   Although no longer as fashionable as in its heyday, the budgerigar still represents Australia’s greatest diaspora. In that sense it has, truly, become a world bird.
FURTHER READING: Budgerigar Sarah Harris and Don Baker, published by Allen and Unwin, 2020.
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