What does change

are the morning birds.

Yesterday, five large sulphur-crested cockatoos, raucous, bacchanalian almost, in the crown of a tree on a level with the bedroom window, picking the fruit off with, & holding them in, their claws, then their beaks tearing the flesh away to get at the kernel within. The flesh dropped onto the driveway below, then the woody covering of the nut broken open, also spat away. Finally, the feast, continuing until there were no fruit left within reach.

Today, a single kingfisher on the clothesline, silent, ascetic. Carniverous. Looking for lizards. All the flesh edible.