Gazza tossed the piece of potato. The Ibis didn't budge. It wanted the whole thing.

The bird didn't blink. It just let out a dry, rattling honk.

The tourist was frantic. "It took my phone! It’s got my life on there!"

The tourist scrambled for their phone, thanking Gazza profusely. Gazza just nodded, took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, and watched the bin chicken finish its prize.

The bird didn't hesitate. It dropped the phone—clattering onto the concrete—and sprinted toward the potato with the speed of a prehistoric raptor.

The bird tilted its head, the phone still clamped firmly in its beak. It didn't fly away. It just looked at Gazza, then at the half-eaten hash brown sitting on top of Gazza’s bag.