By Tom Campbell. “I erased the line with my bare heel. But this chook kept on looking. ” My brother and I drew a line in the dirt. We held the bird’s head, so it had to see. It looked up the line, then down the line, up, down. This was our favorite and only game that winter. I erased the line with my bare heel. But this chook kept on looking. Up, down, up, down. We yelled at it, hissed at it. My Brother had the harried hands of a bed-wetter. We couldn’t make the bird stop.

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