A few weeks ago, I contacted someone named Judith Fennell, not really expecting to hear back from her,

because Judith is a forensic musicologist and she's in very high demand.

On a typical day, she's advising companies like Disney and Netflix to help them avoid copyright infringement.

Or she's sharing her expertise in high-profile legal cases.

Remember when Robin Thicke and Farrell Williams were sued for copying parts of blurred lines?

That was Judith.

She was the expert witness that helped clinch the case against them and for Marvin Gay's estate.

So I really didn't think that Judith would have any time for my case, but I sent her an email, and she wrote back right away.

I'm glad you found me. It's really, it really gave me a lot to think about, just preparing for this. So thank you.

Wait, what did it give you to think about? I mean, I feel like you're dealing with music plagiarism day in, day out.

I am. I am. But from humans.

That's right. The case I laid before Judith was both strictly pro bono, and it was against birds.

On the east coast of Australia, high up in dense forests of eucalyptus and southern beach trees,

there's a group of birds that appear to

have swapped out their usual songs for something more melodic.

It's the only place in the country where these birds are known to sing like this, and I might

get them in some trouble, because allegedly, they got these songs from us.

I'm Ella Fetter, and this is Atlas Obscura, a celebration of the world's strange, incredible, and wondrous places.

Today, lyrebirds in Australia stand accused of copying human music.

Specifically, two songs they learned in the 1920s.

It's a story that's been repeated a few times on the internet as just a fun fact.

But is it a fact?

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