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“We tried to look in but the shelter was dark inside and a fair ways deep. We
approached the shelter as if it were a bomb. The mumbling became clearer and more
pronounced as we approached.”
“Yeah, would could make out a few swear words here and there.” I was very intrigued
by the whole story and was itching for Phil to get to the point. I think he saw the
impatience on my face.
“We
were practically standing right by the entrance knee-deep in the murky brown
water.”
“Which is forbidden because it’s where a croc is at it’s most comfortable and most
deadly,” added John.
“When all of a sudden out hops this bloody bird, the kind that cleans croc teeth, a Plover,
except this one was bigger than any we had ever seen. Big enough in fact to be a tasty
meal for a croc mind you. Anyway, he comes out muttering all sorts of obscenities while
cleaning some green gunk off his head with his wings. You could have knocked the two
of us over with a feather I tell ya, we just stood there with our mouths wide open,
gawking at this talking bird.” Phil mimicked the look they had.
“After a few swipes of his wings across his head and beak, he looked up at
us and
without skipping a beat said ‘what?’ You never seen bird cleaning itself? You blind or
what? Your croc does this all time, the bugger sneezes on purpose. Crap’ and with a few
hard flaps flew off muttering a few choice words. We still just stood there, mouths open
and flabbergasted.”