Although we live in the burrow of Douglasdale and our bolthole is right next to the William Nichol bridge on the concrete freeway, we are not as mal as the kieviet down the Crescent who insists on nesting in the middle of nowhere. He then screeches and runs in the opposite direction believing he'll lead you away from the nest. It sounds worse than Patricia Lewis singing "Ek is lief vir jou" while sitting on a barbed wire fence. Whatever! Occasionally we hitchhike around our planet Earth, and on those occasions we need to pack padkos.
So here are the suggestions.