Walter and I came across a committee of vultures on our morning walk. They were taking turns sunning themselves in the road and eviscerating an unfortunate possum, a victim, no doubt, of voting against his own self interest.

The birds, with heads wrinkled and as red as fresh meat, and feathers glossy black stood with their wings stretched as far as a full grown man with his arms flung wide, whilst their colleagues tore at the dead possum’s entrails.

They did not appreciate our attention. They flew into nearby trees where they perched glaring at us until we passed.