The Art of Colonial Gardening

Flock of Cockatoos August 4, 2006

I was riding my bicycle through Royal Park. The sun was blinking through large cumulo nimbus clouds , oblivious to the temperature my chest heaved with each strenous push forward.

I heard a combined screech and squawk from mass of black bird. The curling sounds: the squawk became calls . I stopped. The wave of birds pittered trhough trees like splashes of ebony. So large – a finesse in mass.
They were big. The tails marked with yellow. It awe-inspiring to see such a large congregration. Then I had a sudden feeling of utmost dread. Why were they here?

Drought.