Out, Off, Listen

Gaius waits under a eucalypt for Terence to catch up.

He has sent P. krameri to fetch him.

He's coming, says P. krameri, landing on the ground next to Gaius.

What's he doing? asks Gaius.

Hitting a tree with a stick, says P. krameri.

That won't do, says Gaius.

Terence stamps up, with his stick.

Put that stick away, says Gaius. You'll be scaring the birds off.

I was scaring them OUT, says Terence.

Out, off, says Gaius. Either way, they'll be leaving the area.

I saw one, says Terence.

What did it look like? asks Gaius. Try to recall.

I didn't recall, says Terence. I made a stick sound.

Try to remember, says Gaius.

Terence scrapes his stick on a tree.

What it LOOKED like, says Gaius. What were its colours?

Terence tries to remember. It flew by him so fast.

Blurry, says Terence.

Was it small, grey-brown in the upper parts, with pale spots, a black crown, wings and tail, white eyebrows and a reddish rump? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Terence, guessing.

Then it wasn't a forty spotted pardalote, says Gaius. It was a spotted pardelote. They are quite common.

It might not have had eyebrows, says Terence.

In that case we have a puzzle, says Gaius.

Terence scrapes the stick on a rock he has noticed.

A bird flies out from the top of the eucalypt under which they are standing.

But no one sees what kind it is.

I'll follow it, says P. krameri, taking off in the same direction.

Good bird, says Gaius. Now Terence, I shall give you a task.

What is it? asks Terence.

Listening, says Gaius. And there must be no sounds from you.

Or you, says Terence.

Or me, says Gaius. I want you to listen for the call of the forty spotted pardelote.  It sounds like a squeaky swing. Or wheet-wheet. Or sleep-may-be.

Then what? asks Terence.

And if you hear it, come and silently tap me on the shoulder, says Gaius.

Terence nods. This is a good task. He can do it.