As soon as the sweaty arms of daylight reach over the horizon, the hard-nosed kookaburra begins to attack a neighbor’s window.
It knows that food magically appeared from behind that glass in the past – perhaps in its genetic past, for certainly not since I’ve been living nearby. He’s driven by his unconscious conditioning.
No food comes.
The only thing forthcoming is the unit owner’s abuse. Yet the big grinning bird bashes on, head like a rock.
I feel for him. I know that robotic rock-head stubbornness only too well.
Image source: Wild Witch Graphics