The Prince stepped into the enclave, walking at a cracking pace. The workmen’s hammers echoed off the walls as they worked in the mansions. The noise causing HRH to look up and around, although he was certain that the sounds were no reason for alarm.

He then blinked. Certain that his eyes were deceiving him. Again, he looked left and right, and then up again. Indeed, it was not an illusion. The telephone wires spanned between the poles were a precarious perch. Moreover, the stiff breeze hard to resist. And the erratic, twirling form seemed unable to decide on a course of action. Instead, swinging around like an acrobat, and then wobbling too and fro, like a drunken sailor. Obviously unable to stabilise its foothold but not brave enough to release its tenuous hold on the wire.

Prince Charming could no longer watch. Caught between wanting to woof in encouragement, but afraid to frighten the hapless Cockatoo and risk it sustaining an injury. He decided that ultimately it could fly and, eventually the moment would come when it would relinquish its hold, and sail on the wind to a more stable post.