So, I'm in the garden, reading. Felicity Emu wanders in. I note that he ain't that slow: he's noted that the twenty-eight parrots (they're called 'twenty-eights' I have no idea) are snipping plums of the plum tree, and the plums are falling inside the fence. Okay, he obviously understands. Point to Felicity. (Felicity is a male. He had such lovely eyelashes when he was a chick . . . ) THEN I notice that plums are falling on the OTHER side of the fence, outside the back yard. Felicity is flummoxed. (See Spot run. See Spot play. See Felicity flummoxed.) He bumps his chest against the barbed wire. He tries to stick his head through the fence. He pecks ineffectively at the fence. I sit watching. Well . . . will he figure it out? Off he wanders. Out he goes through the side gate, around through the orchard. Bingo! Fallen plums for Felicity.