The magpies drop into work a couple of times a day. There are usually two or three but today a lone pie totters through the tufts of grass; stopping, staring and snatching between the blades – slowly making its way through the dozens of courses of its degustation menu. It hops up on the deck, perches on the side of the metal overflow tub and dashes the water with its beak; the ripples reflect the late afternoon sun as rainbow swirls on the ceiling. Thirst quenched, it’s back to its lush slow food table. Not a bad day’s work all round.
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