Kookaburra learning that all that’s blonde isn’t steak

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Blonde and Brunette spent three wonderful, expensive and exhausting weeks traveling in Australia in the spring of 2011. Our last two days were spent at a friend’s (Dianne) boathouse near the haute hip Palm Beach area where a beloved Aussie soap opera is shot. (Personally I think soap operas should be “shot” but need to stick to my practice of never exhibiting personal opinions in these posts.)

Before we went to Oz Blonde floated the idea of staying in Dianne’s boathouse to Brunette ( to rent see http://www.stayz.com.au/106417). Brunette was highly skeptical. She was certain we’d be sleeping on planks in some damp shed full of hungry poisonous attack-spiders. (The only kind we believe exist.) Once again, not only were we wrong about the boathouse but we weren’t even close to good enough to be inhabiting it.

There are pictures in the slideshow above of the boathouse.  Suffice it to say that a majority of the world’s population would be thrilled to call that boathouse “home”. Brunette was inordinately delighted by the inclinator, a type of mini elevator that takes you, and whatever you’re schlepping, up and down the hill to the boathouse.

When Dianne showed us around we noticed some Kookabura birds outside on the awning over a portion of the dock. She warned us not to feed them. Apparently Dianne previously fed them but, as routinely happens, some rowdy young males with aggressive food-obtainment behaviors had overdone it. They became attack-Kookaburras and lost their food privileges. (Good thing she didn’t throw them booze.) Dianne also offhandedly mentioned that, back in the day,  the Kookaburras preferred steak. We feigned, with no success I’m sure, that it made sense to us that someone would have thrown steak to birds.  We were now hoping Dianne would throw dinner out the window in our direction.

The next morning Blonde bumbled groggily out to the deck with a piece of toast. Brunette was already perkily out there reveling in the  scenery and lack of spiders. A Kookaburra that looked like an adorable stuffed toy perched on an edge of the awning. Blonde and Brunette fell under its spell as if it were the avian equivalent of George Clooney.

As Blonde cooed, the Kookaburra swooped in and stole her remaining piece of toast. There isn’t any species, genus, family or anything else  in scientific taxonomy that is welcome to Blonde’s unfinished meals so she was outraged. As trite as the phrase “insult to injury” is, it’s accurately descriptive of the situation – for both Blonde and the Kookaburra.

That smarty-pants entitled damned bird had the bird-balls to then disdain Blonde’s breakfast! He would nibble it, drop it, then consume a little while making it clear that this wasn’t steak or anything remotely equivalent. Disdain from a fucking bird! Former lovers? Fair enough. Former husband? Sure. But a Kookaburra? Puhleeze!

Later, after ratting out the bird to Dianne, she generously suggested that perhaps it had attacked Blonde in a case of blonde-profiling. Dianne is also blonde. She is also younger, thinner, prettier and associated with steak. So screw you Kookaburra, all that glitters blonde is not a blonde flinging a steak.

Too bad it wasn’t a Laughing Kookaburra (actually exists) because he wouldn’t have gotten the last laugh.

Blonde hopes that little bird-bastard choked on his purloined piece of toast (but if he truly thought Blonde was Dianne, all is forgiven).


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