Once upon a time there were three black cockatoos called Arthur. They weren't related or anything, they were just very good friends, probably because they were all called Arthur.
One day, the three Arthurs were sitting in a tree somewhere in the middle of the bush, quietly eating their lunch, when one of them saw something in the distance.
'Look, Arthur,' said Arthur, 'there's something over there.'
'What do you think it is, Arthur?' said Arthur.
I don't know, Arthur,'' said Arthur. 'Let's ask Arthur.'
So the Arthurs asked Arthur, but Arthur didn't know either.
The thing came closer and closer and soon they saw that it was a big, black storm. The clouds boiled up, all grey and grumbly and all the animals and insects went very quiet.
Then the wind started to howl in the branches and make the trees shake. The rain swept down with big splatty drops and made everything very wet and it got very dark.
The Arthurs were a bit scared and tried to find a hole to hide in, but there was only one hole and there was already a grumpy fat possum in it, fast asleep and snoring. So, the Arthurs just huddled together near the trunk and hoped the storm would blow away quickly.
Suddenly, there was a huge flash and a bolt of lightning squizzled out of the clouds and hit the branch that the Arthurs were sitting on.
The lightning singed the tail of the nearest Arthur very badly, and turned it bright white and he dropped the Banksia pod he was eating and screeched "Whee-La!" and flew away to the west.
The lightning singed the tail of the middle Arthur quite a lot and turned it a beautiful yellow and he dropped the pinecone he was eating and shrieked "Kee-Ow!" and flew away to the southeast.
The lightning singed the tail of the Arthur at the end just a little bit and turned it a deep red and he dropped the Stringybark seed he was eating and gave a little squawk, "Kree!" and flew away to the northwest.
As they were flying away in different directions, the storm tried to follow all of them, but it couldn't go three ways at once and with a roar of thunder, the big storm split into three little bits and each bit turned into gentle rain-clouds.
The rain soothed the pain in their tails and the Arthurs called happy bye-byes to each other as they flew away to their new homes.
So now, there are three sorts of black cockatoo with red and yellow and white tails living in different parts of Australia, but wherever they are, when they fly around calling to each other with their screechy cries, everyone knows that it is going to rain very soon.