The Golden Toddy

We hunted, swept the planet pole to pole

to capture a glimpse of that rare species.

Through a thermal lens we spotted a shoal,

picked up the trail of nuggety faeces,

then tagged the shiniest beast in the pride,

mounted a camera on its gleaming horn,

bolted a microphone into its hide.

A first: toddies in flight, asleep, in spawn . . .

After months in the field, the broken yolks

had gilded and glazed the presenter's boots;

the sponsor's lover wore a precious skull

for a brooch, out-glinting the best boy's tooth.

Rank bad form. But the creature itself shone,

perched on the clapper-board, the golden one.