Thirty-Three
We sit on a log, watching currawongs bounce and bob along on the undergrowth. “They look so happy,” I sigh. “So happy in their little, bouncy world. I guess currawongs don’t fall in love.”
“Maybe they do,” Patience says. “Or maybe they know better. Maybe they know that boys suck.”
“Oi!” Jed says. “Right here, Patty!”
Patience rolls her eyes. “You’re not a boy, Jed.”
“Thanks very much.” Jed feigns hurt before grinning. He gestures at the bird. “Besides, how do you know it’s a female currawong? It could be Colin the currawong for all you know.”
“It’s a female,” I say. When Jed and Patience both look at me quizzically, I explain. “The females have shorter beaks.”
“Viggo?” Patience asks dryly. I nod.
“He likes bird-watching.”
“But that’s an ‘outdoors pursuit’,” Jed says,
