Mister Cassowary Page 5

‘Promise?’

  Abby tried to pass me, but I blocked her path.

  ‘I don’t need you to show me,’ she huffed. ‘I’ll find them myself.’

  I held my arms out wide. ‘No. You have to promise.’

  ‘Okay, okay! I won’t tell anyone. Promise.’

  Abby followed me through the long grass towards the swamp.

  ‘They like to play hide-and-seek,’ I said when we’d found a dry place to stand. ‘Near those trees, over there.’

  We peered across the gravy-like pools.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ said Abby.

  ‘Maybe they’re a bit further down.’

  The rainforest was much thicker past the swamp. It smelt of rotting leaves and mud and was crowded with ferns and palm fronds that twirled like windmills. The air was hot and heavy, like when I’d had a hot shower and forgotten to put on the exhaust fan. We stepped over fallen branches covered in green moss and ducked under hanging vines twisting like party streamers above us.

  I stopped, frozen, as something wailed in the tree above us. It sounded like a baby.

  ‘It’s only a catbird, silly,’ said Abby, grabbing my arm and dragging me behind her.

  Thick tree trunks disappeared up towards the light. Down below, their winding roots were like octopus arms twisting around our feet.

  ‘Watch out!’ cried Abby, pulling me away.

  In the tree beside me a mass of tiny green bodies seethed in the dim light. The hairs on my neck stood up.

  ‘Green ants,’ Abby explained. ‘If you disturb them, the whole lot will bite you. It’ll hurt like crazy.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said as a loud crack echoed in the distance. ‘What was that?’ I whispered, my heart thudding.

  ‘Riflebird,’ chuckled Abby. ‘Completely harmless.’ She skirted a mound of dirt that looked like a giant egg. ‘You really don’t know anything about the rainforest, do you? That’s a termite nest, in case you were wondering. Come on, let’s try looking over here.’

  My feet crunched the leaves around the egg.

  ‘Oh, and watch out for that,’ Abby cautioned, pointing to a vine. ‘It’s a wait-a-while vine. If it grabs you, it won’t let you go.’

  I clamped my arms to my body. There were deathtraps everywhere. No wonder Dad had said this place was dangerous. ‘I think we should go back.’ I couldn’t hear Dad’s tractor over the cicadas’ relentless buzz. ‘We would’ve seen the chicks by now, if they were here.’

  But Abby kept walking.

  ‘Abby! They’re not here.’

  She turned, scrunching up her nose. ‘Are you sure they were cassowary chicks? I mean, if they were just plovers or something, they might have flown away?’

  I scratched a mosquito bite on my arm. ‘They weren’t plovers. They were too big. They looked like monster chickens. Come on, we can search again tomorrow.’

  Abby shrugged. ‘Well … if you’re sure. I just feel sorry for the babies …’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ I muttered. ‘Me too. If we could find out what’s happened to their dad, then maybe we could help them.’

  We were nearly back at the swamp when Abby pointed to a tree to my right. ‘Stinging tree,’ she said. ‘One brush and you’re dead.’

  I held my arms down straight and walked stiffly like a wooden soldier.

  A flash of blue caught my eye. I blinked, hoping to see an adult cassowary, but instead a vibrant butterfly flitted between the leaves.

  ‘That’s a Ulysses butterfly,’ Abby said. ‘Pretty, hey?’

  The catbird cried overhead.

  ‘Hurry,’ I said. ‘My dad will be freaking out.’

  Abby marched ahead, skirting the edges of the swamp. She was nearly around it when a bird darted out in front of me.

  ‘Ouch!’ I cried, falling hard on my side. When I sat up, my hammering heart froze.

  ‘Flynn!’ Dad towered over me. ‘I told you it’s not safe out here!’ He reached down and hauled me off the ground.

  ‘Dad!’ I cried. ‘Let go! You’re hurting me.’

  ‘Sorry, Mr Hutchinson,’ called Abby, as she ran over to us. ‘It was my fault.’

  Beyond her I could just make out the blue bricks of the house. We’d nearly made it.

  ‘It’s just that I wanted to see the—’

  I shot Abby a look. She’d promised.

  ‘—the … um … the Ulysses butterfly,’ she stammered. ‘We started following it and …’

  Dad released his grip on my shoulders. ‘A butterfly? Well at least the two of you are safe, I suppose. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Abby, perhaps it’s time to go home? Is that your bike I saw in the garden?’

  As soon as Abby had ridden off, I apologised to Dad. ‘I won’t do it again,’ I muttered, staring at my muddy shoes.

  ‘Flynnie, I’ve got too much to do to be chasing after you, mate. You were the one telling me how responsible you are. And now you’ve gone wandering off.’

  My stomach sank. I’d be banned from doing anything ever again. Dad would make me a prisoner in the house for the rest of the holidays, or worse, keep me right by his side, permanently.

  ‘Sorry, Dad. I just got bored, that’s all.’

  ‘Bored? Flynn, there’s tonnes of stuff to do around here. You can come out with me and pick up the old plastic from around the banana plants if you like. Or—’

  ‘I want to find out what happened to that cassowary. The one we ran over.’

  ‘Is that what this is about? You have to put it behind you, Flynn. It’s happened. Over. Nothing you can do about it.’

  ‘But if we go to the working bee, we can ask them. They take injured birds all the time at the rehab centre, and … Please can we go, Dad? I promise I’ll help you heaps till then.’

  Dad flinched as if the mention of the centre was like being stabbed in the arm with a fork. ‘We’re not going, Flynn. That’s the last place I want to be. Come on, let’s get you in the shower.’

  I hesitated. I couldn’t just put it behind me. The chicks needed someone to care for them.

  ‘Could we at least call the rangers?’ I asked. ‘See if they found that cassowary?’

  Dad’s eyes were almost popping out of his head. ‘Flynn! Enough!’ he exploded. ‘I don’t want to hear any more! Into the shower with you, then straight to your room until dinner. Is that clear?’

  After dinner, Dad told me to call Mum. ‘She doesn’t have work tonight, remember?’ he said.

  ‘Hey, Mum,’ I said, sitting on Grandad Barney’s bed.

  ‘Hi, honey. How’s it all going?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Dad says you’ve made a new friend. Is she nice?’

  ‘Dad won’t let me do anything.’

  ‘Well, sometimes you are a bit too adventurous. How about you just help Dad? I’m sure he’d appreciate your help, rather than having to worry about you, on top of everything else.’

  ‘I’ve swept the verandas.’

  ‘That’s what I’m talking about. Every little bit helps, just like at home.’

  ‘And I’ve weeded the garden bed.’ I hesitated, listening out for Dad. ‘Mum?’ I whispered.

  ‘Yes, hon?’

  ‘Can you come and get me?’

  There was a pause. I pressed the mobile closer to my ear. I could hear Mum breathing.

  ‘No, Flynn,’ she said quietly. ‘I can’t. We spoke about this, remember? You just have to be patient. You know Dad’s having a hard time being up there.’

  I stared at the picture on the side table. ‘He won’t let me go to the working bee.’

  ‘What working bee?’

  ‘At the rehab centre. Abby says it’s fun. I really want to go. I need to learn more about chicks, and—’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to work that out with Dad, honey. I’ve got to go.
Give me a call tomorrow, okay?’

  ‘Okay. Bye, Mum.’

  ‘Bye, Flynn. Love you.’

  ‘Love you, Mum.’

  I slumped back onto Grandad Barney’s bed. I had to go to the working bee. How else would I find out about the cassowary we hit? I lay my head against the pillow. How was I ever going to convince Dad to let me go?

  I stared at the photo of Grandad, Big Blue and Dad. That cassowary really was massive. Grandad must have fed him practically the whole farm of bananas. That reminded me, I had to find out what Peanut and Jumble eat. If I didn’t look after them properly, they’d die of starvation without their dad. That would make Dad and me responsible for two more deaths, not just a possible one.

  I pulled Grandad Barney’s bird book out from under the bed.

  Cassowaries are mostly found in rainforest, but also use woodlands, melaleuca swamps, mangroves, and even beaches both as food sources and connecting habitat. These huge birds, of which there may only be 1,000 left in the wild, are the only animals capable of distributing seeds of more than 70 species of rainforest trees.

  A thousand left? Maybe that’s why Grandad Barney was so keen to look after them.

  It didn’t say anything about what to feed chicks. Maybe if I looked up ‘food’ in the index?

  I flipped to the back and snatched the book closer. A yellowing newspaper article, dated two years ago, was glued to the inside cover.

  Man Injured by Tame Bird

  Doctors operated on Tully man Dudley McWraith yesterday after he was attacked by a male cassowary called Big Blue. The huge bird was thought to be protecting its eggs when Mr McWraith stumbled across it on a narrow bush path.

  ‘I didn’t know Big Blue was there,’ said Mr McWraith. ‘One minute I was out walking, the next I was pinned to the ground by these massive talons. I’ve never been so scared in my life.’

  Mr McWraith received 10 puncture wounds to his stomach, chest and legs, but is now recovering well in hospital. Rangers say the cassowary responsible for the attack should be relocated to a more suitable habitat until nesting season is over.

  ‘It isn’t the first time Big Blue has attacked,’ said Cathy Fitzgibbons, a ranger from the Cassowary Rehabilitation Centre. ‘Raised by our very own Mister Cassowary, this bird has become quite a threat in the area.’

  Mister Cassowary? The picture next to the article was faded but, after looking closer, I had no doubt. Grandad Barney stood next to the very same cassowary in the photograph next to his bed. The article continued:

  Nicknamed Mister Cassowary because of his efforts to save these endangered dinosaur-like birds, Barney Hutchinson said, ‘We’ve learnt a lot since I raised Big Blue. Tame cassowaries have more chance of being killed when they wander on roads and through suburbs, and adult birds can become very aggressive around people, looking for food. We now know feeding stations are more appropriate to feed cassowaries.’

  Mr Hutchinson has developed and funded the Cassowary Rehabilitation Centre, just outside Mission Beach, to help sick, injured and orphaned cassowaries. Unfortunately this is all a little too late to help Mr McWraith.

  I traced my finger over the picture. What had happened to Big Blue? Had he become more and more of a menace before finally attacking Grandad Barney? I had to get to the rehabilitation centre. It was the only way I’d find the answers.

  Early the next morning, I snuck out to the veranda to look for the cassowary chicks. I needed to know if they were okay before Dad woke up.

  I stood with my ear towards the rainforest. A hot, sticky wind spun high in the palm leaves, whirling them this way and that, but I couldn’t hear any peeps. Just clicking geckoes and whining cicadas and then Walter’s LandCruiser as it rattled up the driveway.

  He waved as the car crunched to a stop.

  ‘Hey, kiddo, what’s happening?’ he asked, pulling out two big cans from the boot. ‘Your dad around?’ Dark clouds hung heavily in the sky behind him.

  ‘He’s still asleep, but he’ll be up soon,’ I said, crossing my arms to hide my pyjamas. Lucky they weren’t the Spider-Man ones I used to wear last year.

  ‘Okay, no worries. I’ve just popped over to bring him some more fuel.’ Walter nodded towards the garden beds and the paddock next to the shed. ‘Looks like you’ve been busy.’

  ‘Yes, we have,’ I said, watching as he glanced over at the trees near the swamp.

  ‘Tell me, do you have anything unusual to report?’ he asked. ‘You know, like any visitors you weren’t expecting?’

  ‘Visitors?’ I frowned. Why would visitors come through the swamp? ‘No, just you. Oh, and Abby. Why?’

  ‘No reason,’ said Walter lightly, turning his attention back to the cleared paddocks. ‘Looks like you and your dad are on a mission, though. You’ll have the place ready for sale in no time.’

  A mission at Mission Beach? I’d have laughed if I wasn’t worried Dad would be awake any second to send me back to my room. I took a deep breath. I needed to ask Walter something. Something important. ‘You were good friends with my grandad, weren’t you?’ I began.

  Walter tipped his head to one side. ‘Mission Beach is a small town, son. Everyone pretty much knows everyone. Except maybe the backpackers. They tend to come and go. Why d’you ask?’

  ‘Well, it’s about the accident. I was wondering …’

  ‘Accident?’

  ‘Was there really a monster cassowary? The biggest one in history?’

  Walter laughed. ‘Abby said she’d been talking to you. Gotta watch that one. She has a shocker of an imagination!’

  ‘No, not just Abby. I read a newspaper article, too. It said a vicious cassowary called Big Blue attacked a man, and that Grandad—’

  ‘Big Blue is a beautiful bird, Flynn, one of the most handsome cassowaries I’ve ever seen. Your grandad loved that fella.’

  ‘Is a beautiful bird? You mean Big Blue’s still alive?’

  ‘Yep, sure is. We see him in the forest near the rehab centre from time to time. But don’t get too excited.’ Walter’s eyes crinkled. ‘He hasn’t caused any mischief for a while, touch wood. Probably decided it was time he moved on.’

  I glanced behind me. No sign of Dad. ‘Did Big Blue do something to my grandad?’ I asked, keeping my voice low. ‘Is that why Dad’s so worried about how dangerous it is around here?’

  Walter’s smile dropped. ‘I think you should probably ask your dad that one,’ he said, firmly.

  I felt like lava was suddenly bubbling in my chest. ‘But Dad won’t tell me!’ I exploded. ‘It’s like he thinks I can’t handle any scary stuff, but I can! I’m old enough to hear the truth!’

  Walter scratched his head. ‘Well, is that so?’ he said. ‘Doesn’t want to share the scary stuff, hey? Perhaps that’s because when he was a little tacker, he was afraid of his own shadow. Wouldn’t say boo to a post. It sounds like you’re more like your grandad. A good egg you are, just like him.’

  I looked at him, my eyes wide. ‘I am?’

  ‘Yep.’ Walter nodded. ‘You sure are. You and Barney are just the type of people our cassowaries need. Now listen,’ he said. ‘Abby told me you and your dad are still no shows for the working bee tomorrow. Any chance you could come for just a couple of hours? We’d appreciate another pair of hands with the cyclone on the way.’

  I sighed. ‘No. Dad says we’ve got too much to do around here.’ I chewed my lip. ‘Unless …’

  Walter raised his eyebrows.

  Bang. The screen door slammed behind me. Dad walked over, his hair standing up and his face creased.

  ‘G’day, Steve.’

  ‘Walter. What’s happening?’ Dad scratched sleepily under his T-shirt at his chest.

  Walter waved a hand at the cans he’d unloaded from his boot. ‘Brought you round some fuel. You hear the latest about the cyclone?’

  Dad no
dded. ‘Yeah, worst luck. I’ve got enough on my plate without a blower chopping the place up. Let’s hope it stays out in the ocean.’

  ‘Too right,’ said Walter. ‘I knew I should have organised the working bee earlier.’ He glanced towards the paddock behind the house. ‘Top job, by the way.’

  ‘Yep. One down, three to go.’

  Walter sucked his cheek. ‘Yeah, well, s’pose it’ll look good in the sales brochure.’

  Dad smiled. ‘Yep.’

  ‘I mean, if that’s what you want.’ Walter glanced over to the thick row of trees bordering the banana plants. ‘Shame to see it all go, though. I remember your dad planting them.’

  Dad’s smile faded.

  ‘The developers aren’t exactly going to leave the trees, are they?’ said Walter. ‘No room for cassowary corridors when there are houses to build.’

  I took in a sharp breath. But the cassowary chicks lived there!

  ‘Don’t start, Walter. Don’t start.’

  There was an awkward silence, filled only by the rosellas squawking in a nearby bush.

  ‘Righto,’ said Walter with a scratch of his belly. ‘I’ll leave you to it. I think Flynn has something to ask you.’

  I dipped my head. I’d wanted Walter to ask Dad about the working bee, not me.

  ‘How much do I owe you for the fuel?’ asked Dad.

  ‘Just make it fifty,’ said Walter, opening the driver’s door. ‘Oh and before I forget, a mate will be round Monday to fix your windscreen. Might see you tomorrow, hey, kiddo?’

  ‘What’s on tomorrow?’ asked Dad after Walter’s LandCruiser had rattled off.

  I cleared my throat, wanting my voice to sound confident and mature. Walter said I was a good egg. Now I just had to prove that to Dad. ‘The working bee, remember?’ I said.

  Dad snorted. ‘Have to give you points for trying, Flynnie. We’re still not going. Now, are we getting dressed today or what?’

  After I was dressed and we’d eaten breakfast, Dad pushed on his hat. ‘There’ll be no running off today,’ he said. ‘Is that clear?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I’ll be with you. I’m coming to help you in the paddocks.’