How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Ibis

In our latest series, Australiana, VICE is exploring national identity beyond the stereotypes. There are no cork hats or shrimps on the barbie here, we’re letting Australians tell their own stories, free of national myth or propaganda.

Sydney hates ibises, this much is clear. Most of the hate seems to stem from their numbers (they are everywhere) and the fact they’re gross (the ibis food pyramid is basically a triangular bin). But this doesn’t explain the enthusiastic, obsessive hate inspired by a humble bird. Even fusty old Australian Geographic calls them smelly canaries, and the Bondi Hipsters have penned a catchy hate song. Listen to it below. I’ll wait.

But why? Coming from Melbourne, I just don’t get it. So I contacted a guy on the internet who really hates ibis. Raph Lauren is a music producer and administrator of the Ibis Out of Redfern NOW Facebook page, which currently has 4,680 likes. The page is mostly populated by anti-ibis memes, though not much headway has been made in Raph’s one-man struggle to get the ibis permanently removed from Redfern. “It’s tough being a local activist,” he says. “Sometimes you feel like you’re screaming into the void. If anything their numbers are increasing, I mean they’re certainly not decreasing. I feel they’ve gotten louder and more aggressive, probably because they’ve been let off the leash.”

At this point I ask Raph if he’s being serious, and he says he is, but I still get the feeling he’s not. Especially when his rhetoric goes all Donald Trump. “These libertarians will tell you that without any kind of regulation or government intervention life will be better,” he says. “I tell you what life wouldn’t be better, there’d be more ibis. We need someone to take charge, take control, and make the tough decisions.” I probed Raph about his stance on ibis sympathisers. What would he say to such a person? “Grow up,” he says without a pause. “If I had such a person in a room for one minute, I’d say nothing for 58 seconds and then I’d say: ‘Grow up mate. This is the real world.’”

After that stirring declaration, I wanted to speak to someone who loves the ibis: enter Alexander Majchrowski, a photographer and administrator of the Ibis of Sydney Facebook page, which has 3,266 likes. For those keeping score, that’s 1,414 less than that of the hate page. It seems Alexander views the ibis not with contempt, but something closer to ironic admiration. “I think people see them as dirty, smelly trash birds,” he says. “But if you’ve heard the beautiful stories I have, then you’d know that each of them has an inner beauty. Ibis deserve more recognition than they get. Really they should be on our coat of arms.”

Conflicted, I roam the streets of Sydney and simply try to observe the bird for what it is. Then I decide to talk to local artist Struthless, whose Instagram page is a testament to the animal. “I think my girlfriend said it best,” he explains. “I mean, they can fly anywhere but they eat out of a bin—and that’s kind of like all of us. Particularly those of us living in Sydney. It’s just this shitty hostel city that doesn’t try, and in that way we’re all eating out of bins, despite our big wings.”

Struthless’ illustrations. Photos by Sean Foster

Chatting with Struthless over ramen, I slowly come to believe—with the help of a little beer—that the ibis might be alright. “In a sense the ibis is kind of the symbol of the human spirit,” I say, in an ah-ha moment. “Oh shit yeah dude,” says Struthless and launches into the entire history of the ibis from ancient Egyptian times. I’m paraphrasing but, basically, the African ibis was worshiped back then as a symbol for the god Thoth, who was involved in settling godly disputes. The bird was also linked with the development of science, and judgment of the dead. So, while the African ibis were maintaining the order of the universe, their Aussie cousins are known for only eating out of bins. “It’s the oldest story ever!” exclaims Struthless. It’s a classic fall-from-grace tale. You were a god, and now look at ya.”

We finish our meal and head back to Struthless’ place for more beers… and possibly a tattoo. There I flick through his sketches as we chat about ibis, the universe, and everything. And by this point I’ve come to love the bird whose only crime is sharing land with primates who build things from concrete. Repeatedly chased away by the public, yet resolute both in spirit and modus, my sense is the Australian white ibis is just doing its best in a world that’s too quick to judge. It just wants food, water, shelter, and a mate. I sympathise. The Australian white ibis, being a native species, was here before us. Sydney is ibis country.

Finally, after maybe one too many beers, I let Struthless give me a tattoo of an ibis. The hated, misunderstood bird is now forever etched on my skin. I have learned to love the ibis.

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