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At 8 o'clock yesterday morning, while cycling through the Belconnen
golf course with a velocipede-buff brat, we happened upon a pelican. On first
take, it appeared to be in pretty fine fettle, settled on its tummy, wings
nicely folded and bill tucked against throat in restful repose.
"Is it asleep or dead?" Impatient Brat demanded.
"The latter, I believe," I replied.
We did a quick laypersons' postmortem. The pelican was stiff and cold
but we found no obvious injuries. There was, however, some thin, bloodied nasal
discharge apparent.
"Will we take it to CSIRO?" Samantha asked.
"You want to ride home carrying a dead pelico on your Repco?" I asked.
Accordingly, the pelico remained in situ.
Earlier today we passed the spot again but the carcass had been
removed. Perhaps the golfers would have preferred an albatross.
John Layton.
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