We have speculated that this Australian phobia may owe a lot to Ethel Turner's unforgettably harrowing Seven Little Australians in which dear Judy is crushed to death by a falling Australian tree.

On to a reader's poetic comment about widowmaking trees in a moment, but first to one of the very species that depends on big old Australian trees for its nesting holes, our faunal emblem the Gang-gang cockatoo.

Loyal readers will remember detailed discussion here of published scientific research (done by Macquarie University biologists) confirming that some parrot species are "lefties" that never or almost never hold their food in their right toes. Debate about this is flaring again on the Canberra Ornithologists Group's website. Gang-gangs are observed to be unfailingly "right-handed". But what if Gang-gangs, notorious pranksters, are deliberately playing with our minds? Geoffrey Dabb overheard and photographed two of them in conversation.

But back to the widowmaking trees, and Canberra poet Suzanne Edgar, noting our discussion has sent us her poem An Argument, from her collection The Love Procession (2012). Lots of suburban Canberrans in this especially tree-dotted city will have taken part in neighbourhood dramas like the one she describes.

The ancient bulk of our Blakeley's Red Gum

had grown too close to the neighbours' place.

Born in the bush, she'd lived on farms.

"Sooner or later a branch will fall.

It's a widow-maker, for sure", she said,

looking over the boundary fence.

I snapped, "That tree's as good as gold!"

and threw a few coarse words across.

Marching off, I slammed my door.

We had some errant branches lopped

to pacify the pair in there

but the tree itself then let us down,

began to fail and rot inside.

The flaky heart just crumbled out.

Another expert came to check

and more old limbs were cut away

till just the trunk and arms remained

raised stark and high against the sky.

The day tree surgeons finished the job

it rained and blew; that tree was tough

and fought three men till the light had gone.

They left the sawn-off limbs behind

so we made a pile and lit a fire

that burned for hours like a funeral pyre.

Ashes still lie thick on the ground.

The workmen broke a hole in the fence,

now next-doors' son climbs through to play.

Suzanne Edgar confirms that, yes, the story told in her poem is a true one but that she and those neighbours she snapped at have long since made up and that they, the neighbours, were chuffed when the book containing the poem of the imbroglio was published.

Canberra's emeritus trees, like the one in Suzanne Edgar's poem and like the biggest and oldest still standing in a place near you, were already substantial beings when the Great War of 1914-1918 was under way. How was that war affecting locals? One of those being substantially touched by the distant conflict was the Father of Canberra, John Gale.

One hundred years ago this week Queanbeyan's Gale gave a speech about the war. Today's history-conscious Canberrans, with the commemoration of that war on all our minds, will be interested to find where our city's Father stood and how he was embroiled. He was speaking at the grand send-off of a Queanbeyan native, young Mr Capes, bound for the Dardanelles. Capes was Gale's own flesh and blood, a grandson. The Protestant Hall was packed. There was an orgy of patriotic speechifying. Queanbeyan's Age reported that Gale, Queanbeyan's grand old man, was the last to speak.

"Mr Gale said he felt sure that there was no one in that: gathering who did not in his or her inmost heart wish God-speed to the young man their very presence honoured. He was proud to say that this boy (placing his hand on young Capes's shoulder) was his own grandson; and not the first of his grandsons who had been accepted for active service There were three of them already accepted; so that while he was not a soldier himself (and at nearly 85 he was perhaps too old for service in the field), he was proud to be the grand-sire of young men in khaki.

"[Mr Gale] was not mealy-mouthed on the "slackers" who stood aloof from the great struggle now going on ... For himself, he had no doubt as to the ultimate success of the Allies, who stood for the "righteousness which exalteth a nation". If they looked back over the bygone ages they would find that from the days of the Pharaohs of Egypt and all the tyrant oppressors down to the great Napoleon, none of them succeeded in their ambitious aims.

"He never forgot that the "God of Battles" was always on the side of those who espoused a good cause. He felt confident that the Kaiser would go down in dishonour, while those who stood for the cause of God and King and Country, would at length be fully vindicated.

"The meeting closed with the singing of Auld Lang Syne, three cheers for the guest [young Capes off, next day, to the Dardanelles] and three more for the King."