In the frothing of the hedges sometime between December and January a sweaty Australian Swiftlet was born out of season. She woke in the tropical of Capricorn, somewhere East of The Great Dividing Range and way up North.

 

 

​

Somewhere above the Granite Belt, in the muffin top of the Great Southeast, another Willie Wagtail leaves the thick forest for an outdoor dining table with Smiths Original crumbs.

 

​

 

Somewhere on the coast near where the East Australian Current is strongest Pelicans are flying backwards for Peter’s Fish and Chips.

 

​

​

Somewhere in the west a Rusty Grasswren is made redundant by the ride-on mower. Keep those crops wet and those bush fires hot.

 

​

 

Tuck in your shirts and cover your Golden Shouldered Parrot before they mine you for all your worth.

 

​

​

Ohhh Murray, Darlin’, you Magpie Goose don’t mourn too much for your brother, Galilee, you’ll only disappoint your father The Great Artesian Basin. The ancient gut is more connected to the brain than we know. Replace the pots of Gold with pints of Kombucha.

​