I popped outside yesterday to run some errands and was walking along Royston Street when a Currawong swooped down passed my head and landed on the road about 2m in front of me. I stopped and looked at the Currawong. It looked at me.
I raised my hands in a questioning gesture. The bird in turn, moved its pointy little head from side to side - showing off its sharp beak to great effect - and said, ''Don't move, or I'll peck your eyes out.''
I assumed the Currawong must have a nest in one of the plane trees, sheltering the street, and I know it's best not to mess with a mother bird. So the Currawong and I were stuck. I wondered if we would be here all day.
I looked around for the naughty cat, for back-up, but there was no sign of him. In fact, since I wrote about the cat he appears to have been laying low, and I'm wondering if he read my blog-post and took offence. If you are reading this, cat, please know that I do not hate you.
Anyway, it was me and the bird, and I was on my own.
But then I thought, it's just a bloody small-boned bird, it will back off. So I made a tentative step forward and the Currawong kind of leapt in to the air, flapped its wings in warning and landed back down again. It seemed to be really angry.
I was again left wondering what to do when a car came round the bend and nearly ran the Currawong over. The bird darted up and flew away.
When I returned, about 20 minutes later, I had forgotten all about the incident.
The Currawong had not. It swooped down at me again and this time I ran screaming, with my hands covering my head, to my front door. Along the way, I noticed this rather ugly Currawong baby, squawking from a rock in a garden bed and it all made sense. And with the mother bird thinking I had gone, I crept back around the corner and snapped this picture of her baby.