Remember a while back when I told you how the wife was picking those blasted cloyingly perfumy Pirie mangoes before they actually were fully ripe?
Her goal is to keep the mangoes away from the birds, the white-eye mejiro and the red-vented and red-crested bulbuls in particular.
She had picked a particularly nice one the other day, and put it on the table next to where I sit outside when I'm reading. Left it overnight. Which, it turned out, was just one night too long.
The next day, the mango was half-eaten. It had been peeled, the skin scattered around the fruit, and most of the inner flesh consumed by a bird or birds. What kind, nobody knows, but I suspect it's the aforementioned mejiro or bulbuls.
I had a good laugh, as I wasn't looking forward to sitting there with an overly sweet mango by my side. Which the wife didn't appreciate. She made me clean up the mess.
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