Now, I’m sure you’ve all seen some crazy-looking birds. As many know, birds have concocted some wild colors and patterns in which to attract mates, signal one another, or even blend into their environments. In some cases, however, today’s bizarre beast is highlighted not for its plumage, but for its voice.

The superb lyrebird (Menura novaehollandiae) hails from southeastern Australia, which is likely very obvious to any Australian readers of this article since the lyrebird is a prized national treasure of an animal, even appearing on their 10-cent coin! Why call it the lyrebird, though? Well, while the bird is quite musical, the name actually stems from an interesting biological error.

As a biologist, when you want to study the anatomy or exterior physiology of an animal, you may use what’s called a “study skin,” which is exactly what it sounds like. It is the preserved exterior of an animal used for studying. Someone has taken in a dead animal from the field, sometimes brought in from natural causes or intentionally collected, removed the internal organs and stuffed it as best they can to preserve the natural appearance of the animal from when it was alive. Study skins can be incredibly useful if the animal isn’t a native to the area where its being studied, had to be transported, or, potentially, if it no longer exists.

For example, here’s a photo I took of several passenger pigeons (Ectopistes migratorius) in the Cornell Lab of Ornithology study skin collection, a bird that has been extinct since 1914.

Now, back to the lyrebird. In the early 19th century, a taxidermist for the British Museum received a lyrebird in and was asked to prepare it in such a way as to illustrate its courtship behavior. One problem, though: The taxidermist had never seen a live lyrebird before! So he guessed. He arranged the feathers in a way similar to other birds he had noted with long feathers, like the peacock, carried them during courtship and figured the feathers were arranged in such a way as to resemble a lyre, with thick feathers on the outside, thin on the inside, with the whole assemblage sticking straight up. A painting based on this taxidermy specimen by the famous ornithologist John Gould, the man who actually identified Darwin’s finches for the Origin of Species, incorrectly shows the lyrebird’s feathers, too!

So what’s so great about the lyrebird? The songs, of course! For mammals like us to sing, we have vocal cords in our larynx, but birds don’t have a larynx or any vocal cords, they have what’s called a “syrinx” which produces sound when the its membranous walls vibrate. Interestingly, because the syrinx lies on the fork of the trachea in birds, they are able to produce multiple tones at the same time! What makes the lyrebird even more special is that it has the most complexly muscled syrinx of any bird. Its syrinx is jacked. Which means it can produce some of the most complex sounds of any bird.

Lyrebirds have evolved to produce original sounds but also to incorporate others into their repertoire, including other native birds. Kookaburra noises commonly feature in lyrebird songs, but what they’ve become known for are the oddities: cell phone rings, camera flashes, chainsaws, and car alarms. As humans have encroached on their native territories, lyrebirds have incorporated the sounds of the urban jungle into their own jungle. Here’s a clip from the BBC, narrated by the glorious Sir David Attenborough, showing just that:

While the story of why the lyrebird has incorporated these sounds is sad, recent conservation efforts have moved the bird out of its threatened status for the time being. Even the superb lyrebird’s rarer cousin, Albert’s lyrebird, has seen its numbers improve in recent years. As a bonus, Australia’s 10-cent coin even shows the lyrebird in the correct courtship posture!