While driving slowly along Stockdill Drive, Holt looking for birds this afternoon I noticed a raven flying along about three metres above the ground, its flight seemed
laboured as if hefting a load. The bird landed on a roadside timber strainer post and ignored me as I stopped 25 metres away, and through the binos I watched it place a golf ball in an indentation where the top of the post was starting to rot and hack at the
ball. I left a couple of minutes later and the bird was still pecking away in vain.
“Golf balls. Nevermore,” quoth the raven.
J
John Layton
Holt.
