I wrote up to a strange slapping sound in the national park. I peeped over the edge of my hammock to see a beautiful blue winged kookaburra slapping a fish he’d just caught. I suppose he wanted to make sure it was dead before swallowing it.
I watched as he came back to the same branch 11 times, each time with a new fish. I was thinking what a great fisher he must be. Unfortunately my camera was on the bike, and in getting up to fetch it I scared him off.
As I was packing up I dropped a wrapper into the creek bed. Retrieving it I saw a group of fish in a drying out puddle. Some were already dead, the others squirming around in a desperate fight fire survival. I guess Mr kookaburra wasn’t such a great fisher after all!