Desperate Remedies

Was she taunting me? 

I was jolted awake by a strange sound — pee-pee-paw, pee-pee-pee-paw. It drilled into my skull, causing shockwaves, though that might also have been the alcohol. I forced my eyelids open a fraction, afraid to face the light. It having been New Year’s Eve, I at least had an excuse for a change. For the first time in five years, I greeted the new year alone. 

What kind of new bird could this be? I went outside to look for the source of my annoyance. A female tui. I could tell because of the size and plumage. Strange. She wasn’t making typical tui noises. They sound more like aliens. Should be quork-quork, grrr-rruk-rruk-rruk.

Pee-pee-paw, pee-pee-pee-paw. 

“Hey, you! Stop that!”

To distract myself, I opened Instagram. The first post in my feed was Katya’s — thanks, universe. On the photo she stood on a hill overlooking a cliff, the majestic ocean in the background. She smiled with radiance, and her eyes shone. The post read: This past year was a difficult one, I’m not gonna lie. But I was finally brave enough to put myself first and it has already reaped rewards. I have never felt so free and so safe in my life. Here’s to a new year full of more incredible experiences and people to light up my life!

Pee-pee-paw, pee-pee-pee-paw. 

She repeated the one tune in her repertoire with glee every five minutes. Was she showing off? I ignored it at first, but by the end of the day I felt myself spiralling into madness. There was nowhere to hide — closing the windows didn’t block out the sound, and besides, it made it too stuffy in the house. 

She was ruining my life. It may sound like I’m exaggerating, but honestly, I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Every time I would sit down to do some work, watch television, or take a nap, I would hear her annoying song ringing out in the yard. My only respite was going out, but I couldn’t do that all the time. I had a right to spend time in my own home without being harassed, surely?

I messaged Katya for ideas, but she didn’t reply. What, or who, was she so busy with? 

Pee-pee-paw, pee-pee-pee-paw.

With Katya not helping, I ventured online, but most articles were about how to attract rather than deter birds. I did find one useful Facebook post, so tried out some of their remedies. First, I attempted to scare it away by pulling branches near it, hoping the disturbance would drive it off. But she was unfazed, her call as loud as ever. 

I checked my phone, but didn’t have any new notifications. 

Pee-pee-paw, pee-pee-pee-paw.

Plan B was going to Bunnings to get a non-toxic, bitter-tasting substance. On my way to the car I met my neighbour, Phil. 

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” he said. 

“Mmm,” I replied. “Hey, do you know why this tui is making such strange noises?”

“Eh?”

“The tui, it sounds different, and it won’t stop. It’s new here.”

He just stared at me like I was speaking in a foreign language, and after a pause, shook his head. Had he not noticed? How could it possibly not bother him? 

“Ok, well, I’m off, see you,” I said and got in the car. 

I got what I needed from Bunnings and sprayed it on one of her favourite berry trees. It seemed to work at first, but then she merely went higher up, where I couldn’t reach. This tree was Katya’s favourite as well; she used to sit under it to read all the time.  

As if I had summoned her with this thought, my phone lit up with a notification. She replied at last. 

Tracy. Stop messaging me with every little thing. We’re no longer together. Get a grip and leave me alone!

Pee-pee-paw, pee-pee-pee-paw.

That’s rude. Didn’t she say we could still be friends? Anyway, I had bigger problems. My next idea was putting reflective things around the yard, hoping it would scare her off, but that didn’t work either. She seemed to like it, actually, and fluttered and sang with even more gaiety. A party bird, really?

I opened Instagram and checked to see if Katya had any stories. She did. There were a few pictures of graffiti, buildings, and the waterfront, but the last one was what disturbed me. She was with a woman I didn’t know, and a heart emoji had been added. Who the hell was that? How could she move on so quickly? 

I threw a rock at the bird in frustration, then sank down on my knees and screamed, tears forming in my eyes. 

Pee-pee-paw, pee-pee-pee-paw.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. I had to return to Bunnings to get a chainsaw and get rid of the tree for good. It was the only way. 

***

We had been fighting more than usual, but I didn’t see the end coming at all. She must have thought it over for some time. She came into my study one night. I remember how happy I felt at that moment, oblivious of what was to come. 

“Tracy, can we talk?”

I swivelled around in my chair. “Sure, what’s up?”

“I can’t do it anymore.”

“Do what? Do you need help with something?”

She smirked. “No. This. Us. I can’t do it anymore. I’m not happy.”

My heart started racing and my thoughts spiralled. What had I done wrong? Surely it must be fixable. This cannot be happening. I don’t want to be on my own. We’ve had fights before where we ‘broke up’, only to get back together again an hour or so later. But this felt different. The surreal quality of the moment – its calm unchaotic nature – underscored its seriousness. It was clear that she had thought about it deeply and made a deliberate, calculated decision. One that I likely couldn’t change.  

“But why?” I finally stammered. 

She sighed deeply. “The fact you even need to ask is the reason.” 

“What do you mean?” I strained to hold back my tears. 

“Tracy, you have so many mental issues. And I know it’s not your fault, but you refuse to do anything about it, to get the help you need. And that is your fault. It’s just too hard, I can’t deal with it anymore. It’s not fair. I’m no longer happy, I don’t feel free.”

***

I decided against getting a chainsaw. I saw in my mind’s eye how I would fumble with the tool, likely losing a finger or more in the process. I’ve always been rather clumsy. No matter how much I wanted to get rid of this bird, the desire to keep all my limbs was stronger, if only just. And besides, I didn’t want to destroy the tree, her favourite, and one that provided so much food and shelter to the birds. 

Instead, I sat in the garden, watching the tui hop from branch to branch, indulging in her favourite snacks. Despite everything, she was only a bird after all, doing what birds do. She just happened to be a very annoying one. I had tried every possible way to silence her, but in the end, I realised it was I who needed to change, not her. 

I started seeing Anna, a therapist my friend recommended. She helped me sort through my obsessions and compulsions, much of it more persistent and unsettling than any bird could ever be. Session by session, the weight I carried began to lighten. I started checking Katya’s Instagram less and less, and didn’t let myself get quite as riled up by each pee-pee-paw. In fact, the bird’s song had woven itself into my daily existence. 

Then, one day I realised I didn’t hear the rogue tui anymore. In her place there was nothing but a thunderous silence. I scanned the branches, expecting her to reappear and resume her song, but she didn’t. I waited for days for her to come back, but she never did. 

In the silence, I was surprised to find myself missing her. She had, without intending to and without me realising it, kept me company through my toughest period. She had been there, a constant presence as I wrestled with my thoughts and my heartache. And now, with both her and Katya gone, the silence felt heavy. 

Why did she leave me?

But I was different now. The emptiness was something I could face. I was learning to appreciate the quiet, to sit with my thoughts without being overrun by them. I went up to the tree, tracing the empty branches where the tui once sang. My heart still ached, but it no longer overwhelmed me. I had a strong urge to message Katya, to tell her I’ve been going to therapy, ask if we could try again. But I knew that would be a mistake, and surprisingly, was managing to resist. 

With a deep breath, I rose from the lawn and went inside, my shadow long and solitary in the fading light. I opened my laptop, not to spy on Katya’s social life but to write. I typed out everything — my feelings, my growth, and my setbacks. On the screen, words flowed like a quiet stream, not for the world but for me. 

Perhaps, the end of one song was simply the beginning of another?