Of Black Falcons and Heat

My friend asked for my memories of Black falcons 40 years ago when we trapped a few in the outback of Australia, way beyond the tarmac west of Windorah in the prickling midday heat among clouds of flies. Where  the black falcon chooses to rest, is in full sun, laying on bare dusty ground of clay pans, slightly cooled, a constant slight breeze of air being sucked into a vortex as birth of a thermal known locally as a 'wee Willy'. Shade in our camp a real luxury after riding our Land Rover with no air conditioning and a blast furnace draft through the open ventilator, a place where temperatures were more extreme that I had ever believed possible. That a local falcon should be jet black along with large flocks of local Black Cockatoos squabbling in the water of slowly rusting cattle troughs is a fascinating result of evolutionary logic.