We brought the first to emus home in a little cardboard box in the car. At two weeks old, there were tiny and fuzzy and loveable, and "worth their weight in gold." The market was booming and everyone was dreaming of becoming filthy rich with these strange birds.
True to our nature, we went against the tide. Our birds were pets. The grandchildren played with them like other kids play with puppies and kittens. The birds enjoyed the company, and never once bit or kicked.
When the first egg was laid, I happened to be standing outside and witnessed this magnificent event. She had been pacing the fence for a couple of hours when suddenly just at dusk, she squatted and stretched her great neck skyward and dropped a huge emerald green egg! She continued this routine every third day until she had produced fifty-plus eggs.
Two or three people made offers to buy this good producer, and for awhile, they were bidding against each other, even though we were telling them she was not for sale. One man said, "Everything has a price. Name it." We never sold.
By the next year, we had figured out that we had two females. Moe came to live with us that summer. On his part, it was love at first sight, but his wife played hard to get for awhile. Eventually, they settled down to married life, and were very happy.
In the emu kingdom, the male has all the "mothering" instincts. The female lays the egg, and she is finished with it. The male sits on it for about two months, and then cares for the baby until it is grown. When Moe's wife started to lay eggs, he wanted to protect them. She would lay the egg just at dusk, and the man would go sneaking into the pen to steal it. One evening I sat on the porch watching as man and bird sneaked across the pen in the moonlight. The man was totally unaware that he had company. Here came Moe right behind, walking in unison, neck stretched high, looking right down on top of the man's head!
When the market collapsed, at first there was disbelief, then panic. People started to neglect their birds, then to turn them out to die in the woods of starvation, or to be run over on the road. Overnight, they had gone from pampered darlings to despised nuissances and objects of derision.
For my part, I find more and more to admire in this ancient bird. Some would say that it is only a bird without intelligence or feelings. They haven't watched Moe lay his tired old head on my grandson's shoulder and wait to be scratched. He closes his eyes and sighs as if to say, "My friend."