I have been disappointed with some of the misanthropomorphic (?) judgmental
suggestions for the collective noun for currawongs. My opinion on the
matter is expressed in the little poem I wrote many years ago:
*CURRAWONGS*
There’s nothing wrong with currawongs
Disliked, I wonder why
Is it their black plumage
Or their brilliant yellow eye?
Is it that they’re cocksure
Adept to utilise
All novel opportunities
As soon as they arise.
They may eat eggs and fledglings
And thus attract our ire
But the same foods are savoured
By birds that we admire.
It cannot be their singing
It’s rollicking, pure and clear
Part of our bushland symphony
And pure joy to hear.
There’s nothing wrong with currawongs
They may cause a little strife
But I’ve never known a currawong
To go home and beat his wife.
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