My friend in Darwin points out the Butcher Bird swooping amongst the Cappuccinos and Piccolos and occupied tables of the Botanic gardens’ café. The backdrop of tropical flora and the songbird pieces of the birds in the vegetation really is pretty. The Butcher bird unlike the other Darwin patrons of the café wears a formal business suit of black and white despite the heat and humidity. It stares unsmilingly before launch. It has business this morning amongst the crumbs of baguettes and overnight porridge. The Butcher bird swoops . There might be a protest of the coffee drinkers. Protests do not bother the Butcher Bird.
He, or is it she , ( certainly not ze/hir ) is focused on the business at hand.
The musical song of the Butcher Bird is alluring.. I think the word is euphonic. It is honeyed and sweet.
My friend shows me a close up google image of the Butcher bird and gives me a description of our suited companions savage behaviour beyond its sweet song in the café. It has a hooked beak with a notch that severs the spinal cord or crushes the skull of other smaller creatures. After bayoneting them it hangs their victims remains on a branch near their penthouse lair.
I imagine they preen their feathered suit , take on that steely gaze and then go back to business and begin afresh their alluring pretty song.
