Several people have described the personal anguish of hitting a bird with a
motor vehicle and seeing the distress of the birds mate. Here's a rare
example that redressed the balance, if ever so slightly, to brighten your
day.
Alan Gardner, a good friend of mine (though we've lost touch since he
retired) was District Forester at Atherton, and was returning home up the
Palmerston Highway in north Queensland when he came round a bend to see a
car pulled up in the middle of the road. It wasn't parked at the side, so
clearly there was something wrong. Alan pulled up and got out to see if he
could help.
As he walked up to the other car (Victorian number plates), the driver got
out, so enraged he could hardly speak, and pointed up the road.
"Thaaaat,.. that thing there! That's what did it!"
What had happened was that the Victorian visitors had come round the corner
to see a Cassowary standing in the middle of the road. A fine sight. They
stopped and admired it. Then the driver slowly drove up to the Cassowary,
which stood its ground. (Presumably this was in the Cassowary's
territory.)
The bird didn't move, and the driver wanted to, so he blew his horn. (I
must admit that I might have done the same.) The Cassowary objected to
this unsociable behaviour and landed a kick that pushed the radiator back
onto the fan, which of course cut a hole in it, and the radiator's
'live-blood' was running down the bitumen, while the victorious Cassowary
stalked majestically up the highway.
Syd Curtis at Hawthorne.
H Syd Curtis
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