The Moon And The Map Of A Hole

The smoke from the camp fire rises, drifting across the high moon.

The campers are engaged in a dietary conversation.

Beta carotene, says one of the campers. That would be carrots.

Actually, says Mango, on second thoughts, I'm not used to carrots. Have you got any seeds?

I have some sunflower seeds, says the motherly camper.

She opens a tin.

Mango picks out one or two.

Thanks, says Mango. I like to eat seeds in the wild. And nuts, fruits and berries. Of course some of them turn out to be toxic. It's not funny. Then I have to eat clay.

Clay! says a five year old camper. I used to eat clay. Mum said not to.

I'm a Macaw, says Mango. We are different from humans. Look at my toes.

It's true. Her first and fourth toes point backwards.

Wow, says the five year old camper. Does that mean you can walk backwards?

I suppose so, says Mango. Never tried. Unless you count dancing. And there I admit, I'm out of practice. What do you think of my feathers?

Turn around, says a camper. I like the blue ones.

Spread them, says another.

How rude. Whatever for?

Mango straightens and realises her golden breast feathers are sticky.

I'm sticky, says Mango. Anyone got a wipe?

I have, says the motherly camper. ( She has everything. She even had carrots.)

Oh dear, says the motherly camper. Your baby's been sick.

It's true baby B-B, ignored for too long, has choked on the burnt flakes of marshmallow and thrown up in spectacular fashion.

The motherly camper smells faintly of coffee. As he is wiped, baby B-B begins to feel better.

Ma-ma, squeaks baby B-B. Ker-lick-tick, he adds bravely.

Oh, how CUTE! says the motherly camper. He sounds just like a camera.

I taught him that. Well, better be off now, says Mango. Straight on till morning!

Surely you're not flying all through the night? says a camper.

Oh yes, says Mango. The moon will light our way. Anyone got a map?

I have a map of the whole of Australia, says a dad camper.

Never mind, says Mango. Just tell me which way is west.

That way, says the dad camper, pointing towards Laggan.

Mango tightens the leather contraption in which baby B-B is resting, recovering, and thinking of Arthur, his blue-eyed mother.

Mango takes off.

Her shadow blocks the moon briefly.

Tch! says Mango, when they are well out of earshot of the campers.

I think we can do without a map of the Hole of Australia!