The Kookaburra - like a fluffed up bundle of old rags with a sharp beak was sitting on the fence post laughing at me last night as I rushed about doing the chores (Barbs is working until 6-7 every night, and James leaves home at 7.15 and often doesn't get back until 6.30-7 every night, so it's very quiet here on the farm. Dogs bark and the kookaburra laughs and blasted kurrawongs make a racket passing through. Human chatter, not a lot.
I've been told that people are very superstitious about killing kookaburras. That explains why they're not extinct :-). I've got quite used to it and almost fond of it, but the first time nearly made me jump out of my skin. I do begin to appreciate, though, why they said that the early Flinders island farms were really tough on the women. While it's not universal, I think women are more gregarious, and this must have been a very lonely life if you liked a bit of a chat. Fortunately I like people and can see them once a week even if I don't need to. The internet too makes a big difference. But I understand why some people talk back to the kookaburra