Call Iris Peek

Victor calls Iris Peek, in Geelong.

Iris, says Victor, can you do me a favour?

Sure Victor, says Iris. What is it?

This may sound a bit strange, says Victor.

Fill me in, says Iris.

Go to the Spirit of Tasmania quay, and look for an oystercatcher, says Victor. 

Shouldn't be too hard, says Iris. Any distinguishing features?

Not that I know of, says Victor. But it should be accompanied by two orange-bellied parrots.

Too easy, says Iris Peek. Do I apprehend them?

No, says Victor, just take a photo and send it to me. 

No worries, Victor, says Iris.

Iris is a capable officer. Victor relaxes. He has done what he can.

Iris heads down to the quay.

The Spirit of Tasmania departs in an hour, at 9.30 pm.

She reminds herself what an oystercatcher looks like.

Black and white feathers. Long thin red legs. Straight orange beak.

Probably no point looking into the vehicles.

Unless smuggling's involved.

But Victor said nothing about that.

She walks to the end of the quay, then walks back to the ticket office.

Of course birds don't need tickets. But may as well be thorough.

No. No birds in the queue.

But she overhears this:

So sweet, and they were shivering!

Poor little things. Then what happened?

A bigger bird with an orange beak came up to them.

Is that what they were scared of?

No! They looked relieved. It talked to them, but I couldn't hear what it was saying. Then the big one flew off.

So the poor little ones were left on their own again?

Yes, they looked even more scared than before.

Why didn't you do something?

I was about to, when the bigger bird came back with an even bigger bird.

Wow! What did it look like?

White feathers. A bit stern. It looked at the little birds and nodded. 

That's good. At least it nodded.

Exactly what I thought.

Then what? 

The big white one flew off and the orange-beaked one patted the little ones, and said some more stuff.

Then?

Flew away.

This whole thing doesn't sound like normal bird behaviour.

Mmm, but what do we know?

Yes, what? And where are the little birds now?

You won't believe this.

Try me.

They flew onto the ferry. Up top. But I bet they don't stay there long.

That's for sure! Hey, who'd be a bird?

Iris has heard enough. She has established the presence of the three birds in question, and the current whereabouts of two of them. 

She will not get a photo.

But Victor will receive a report.