The noise was deafening. I had wandered down to the Darling River for a morning walk. Momentarily standing to take a photo, I must have invaded their privacy. Hundreds of white cockatoos were screaming about what they scream about, loudly flapping their wings, it was as though the majestic gums had suddenly come alive attempting to persuade others of this miracle.
Many flew across the river still shouting while others stayed behind, a number of them quite small, with one romantic couple necking on a distant branch. I left them by the shallow and muddy Darling, its hostage boat stuck in its mud. 
We’re officially in the outback, I thought, as we left over three hundred kilometres of road dust in our wake. Thousands of multicoloured and multi-sized goats (there because they may be the only animals that eat dust) ignored us or ran gamely across our path as we motored by. Emus watched us on the wide red dirt roads, white corrugated ones, and those with long narrow ruts. 
The dead kangaroos in the meantime failed to see the signs warning of sharp dips, floodways and narrow cattle grids that kept us very aware of possible danger. Crows and smaller birds often left our path too late, but not so the stunning red tailed black cockatoos gathered on the roadside nibbling at the ground. Having a thing for these black beauties, I stopped dusting and walked out into the flat country’s saltbush to watch them finally fly away, their red tails signalling the show was over.
Our cockatoo day brought me back to our time in Gilgandra where Corrie was listening to a program on wise birds. Giselle, the author of a beautiful bird book, put their age at 95 million years, saying they are not just intellectually intelligent but also have emotional intelligence.
At home now by a dry river – the Darling – just a Billabong to attest that there once was a river. It will be a long walk into town and a late moonlight walk to achieve my numbers and reflect on an adventurous day.

I started out, my road was straight and sealed
No need to try, my life would simply happen,
But soon the seal would break so no more shield
The bitumen is broke, I need a strap on.
Now at the mercy of the current climate
The road becomes a little corrugated,
A bumpy road reflects my newest state
My future now is highly over-rated.
So now my dusty road will choke the past
The dust soon settles, now I see a future,
The potholes I won’t feel if I go fast
The road I now am on does need no suture.
I know now where I’m going, my path is clear
No matter what the road – I have no fear.