Cirrus@Austlit

'On the day before Christmas, Senor Muy Rico was happy. He strutted about his pen proudly, his feathers puffed out, showing off to his lady friends and putting his male competitors to shame. If the peasants on whose farm he lived had owned a mirror, and if he had had the mental capacity to recognise his own reflection, he would have been most pleased at his dangling purple gobble and glossy black fan of tail feathers. Senor Muy Rico's life was filled with simple pleasures: mating, strutting, eating - living moment by moment. So simple was his approach to life, in fact, that he did not even know that his name was Senor Muy Rico.'  (Publication abstract)