Davo

by N.R. Walker

And just like that my brain pulled on the handbrake and, along with my good judgement, went careening off the road.

“Cockatoos love red cedar, apparently. Will eat a whole house if you let him.” Truck sighed. “Figures. Destructive bloody things.” He stroked Hooker’s neck, making him bob up and down. “This damn psycho chicken’ll outlive us all.”

“So, while we’re talking about names,” I said. “Can I ask about the cockatoo? I hear it screeching bad language every so often. Why is its name Hooker?” I regretted asking as soon as the words were out of my mouth. “Because it’s seen a cock-or-two.”

“Geologists have dated the zircon found in this part of Australia back three billion years. Three billion. I can’t even fathom that length of time or imagine what the earth looked like.” Three billion years? “Way too early for dinosaurs.” “Earth would have been nothing but a fiery, volcanic planet, rivers of lava, that kind of thing.” He sighed. “And now here we are, three billion years later, and I’m lucky enough to exist at the same time as you.”