Sunday morning walk, and at one spot by the edge of a road is a collection of bird droppings—I usually look up to see if anything is sitting there. Today again there is nothing, but slightly along the power line is a kookaburra with something in its mouth. Unusually, though, he looks a little lop sided—all his tail feathers are missing. I tell my nephew and he asks if it was other kookaburras. “Don’t know,” I reply. “Crows maybe. Even djiddy djiddy the wagtail.” But really you never know unless you see it for yourself.