THE WEKA: “a large, brown flightless bird that has a famously feisty and curious personality.”
Night before last I stayed with a fibre-optics cable worker (long story, involves me having a rough moment around 5pm in a patch of shade that turned out to be the front of a fibre-optics cable office space).
The fibre-optics worker taught me how to make an omelette. The trick is to use a bit of water in the egg mixture. And to have a perfectly heated pan.
After omelettes we heard a sound.
Not any sound.
The sound of a weka bird.
We went outside, flashlight in hand, to find the weka.
We found the weka. The weka made its sound.
Feisty and curious.
Then it was dark and I used my new-found skill of finding the southern cross to discern where south is. (Paul, the five times over and straight down rule works brilliantly––thanks for teaching me that.)
The sky was big and doing beautiful things.
Sometimes shitty afternoons turn into gorgeous evenings.
(Thanks, Tony, for helping a sister out).
Now I need to write a poem about weka birds and fibre optics cables.