Look Of A Killer

I told you not to do it, says the ruddy turnstone.

Sorry, says Terence.

The midges have all flown away.

He has nice manners, says the ruddy turnstone.

Tell him, says Saint Roley. Not me.

You have nice manners, says the ruddy turnstone.

What are they? asks Terence.

Saying sorry, says the ruddy turnstone. Not many people do that.

I say it when I kill things, says Terence. Or if I get caught.

Very wise, says the ruddy turnstone. It's disarming.

Terence looks at his arms.

You don't have the look of a killer, says the ruddy turnstone.

It was an accident, says Terence. That's why I need a new parrot.

Let me think, says the ruddy turnstone. Who would make a good parrot? 

A red bird, says Terence. Or a green and red bird. Or a blue and yellow one. Not a balloon one.

He is thinking of parrots he's had.

What about a pink-eared duck? asks the ruddy turnstone.

YES! cries Terence. 

Are there any around here? asks Saint Roley.

Not on the beach, says the ruddy turnstone. A few have been spotted inland.

Let's go! says Terence.

I'll go, says Saint Roley. It'll be quicker. What do these pink-eared ducks look like? 

Brown back, zebra side stripes, white face, black eye patches, pink ears, says the ruddy turnstone. And a shovel shaped bill.

Don't tell it I stepped on the last one, says Terence. And it died.

I won't mention it, says Saint Roley.

He flies off, heading inland.

I had hoped you'd go too, says the ruddy turnstone.

I'll wait here with you, says Terence.

Don't turn over any stones, says the ruddy turnstone. Let me do it.

Okay, says Terence, kicking a heap of dried sea grass.

More midges emerge and zoom off.