The sulphur-crested cockatoo (Cacatua galerita) is one of the many birds that populate the Blue Mountains. They live in large gangs, are very noisy, often funny and occasionally irritating, the latter especially when I am trying to record a radio program.

They do take their chances with cars though and now and then misjudge distance or speed and collide with one, with usually tragic circumstances for the bird. This morning one was splayed out on the road like a miniature feathered industrial site. Someone kindly placed it on the verge.

I know that birds do notice when one of their kind is in trouble or has passed away. A little while ago a fleet of Cacatua galerita was flying round and round their dead fellow, as if to awaken it. They dived, circled and shrieked with such gusto in the hope, perhaps, that a resurrection might be possible. Or maybe it was just a farewell salute.