Rooted to his mineral plot he stood.
He was sturdy, strong and always a place to rest.
He felt useful and loved.
Day after day he would watch the animals of the forest move around him, a majestic parrot, a careless lizard, a determined and greedy possum.
He loved being the centre of their world, loved being a place to seek shelter, to seek shade and to seek protection.
He felt the familiar gust of wind on his lower Northern branch and searched through his leaves to spy the Eastern Rosella he loved so much.
This Rosella was a creature of habit. Every morning it would flitter to a halt on his branch, look east, north and then skyward, admiring the same splendid view.
The bark on his branch was being worn away from the Rosella’s claws but he didn’t care. It was a scar of adulation.
This morning the Rosella looked uncomfortable. Perhaps the Rosella isn’t well he thought and took another scan of the forest to see if all was well.
He felt an odd sensation on his branch and turned back to see if his little Rosella was okay.
When he saw the Rosella, his anger flared and he sharply flicked the bird off his perch with a shake of his limb.
The bird flew away, shocked at being evacuated from his favourite roost.
That will teach him thought the tree. ‘Filthy animal just shat on me!’