Downwards In Sorrow

The endangered wetlands.

Saint Roley splodges off to look for a mollusc.

Splodge, splodge, squelch, squelch.

He spots a Far Eastern Curlew, sucking at something.

He knows it by the beak. Longest beak ever, curving downwards in sorrow.

Any pickings? asks Saint Roley.

Mollusc or two, says the curlew.

Mind if I have a poke about? asks Saint Roley.

Go ahead, says the curlew, but if you find a mollusc, I get half.

What is this? asks Saint Roley.

A protection racket, says the curlew. Half, and you don't get molested.

I'm going off you already, says Saint Roley.

It is how it is, says the curlew. Our habitat is dwindling.

I know, says Saint Roley. See that human over there?

I see three of them, says the curlew. I despise them.

One of them is worthy, says Saint Roley. Two of them only care for filtered views and koalas. But the third is Gaius Plinius Secundus, the famous nat....

I know who he is, says the curlew. He rode in the Tour de France recently.

Did he? says Saint Roley. (He can't remember if he knew that about Gaius).

I was going to say natural historian, says Saint Roley. And activist. And keeper of notes. He taught me all I know about curlews.

Like what? asks the Far Eastern Curlew.

Largest of the world's shorebirds, says Saint Roley. Impressive bill. Female bill longer than the male...

Tell me about it, says the curlew.

Mournful cry, says Saint Roley. I learned how to do it. Cuuuuurlew!

Not bad, says the Far Eastern Curlew. Would you like to join our protection racket? We need a short guy.

Saint Roley is tempted.

He could benefit here from Unni's decision-making dice app.

But she's not here yet.