Don't Bugger Up The Spelling

Gaius gazes at the ocean. 

He spits out a pip.

He wonders if Saint Roley has had any luck spotting a dunnart.

The early morning sun warms the rock he is sitting on.

He should have a hat.

He is about to stand up and get one when the copperhead appears, from the front.

Ah! says Gaius, freezing in a half-standing position.

Do sit down, says the copperhead.

He does.

I've just met your colleague, says the copperhead. He told me you were here. So I've come down to make your acquaintance.

You refer to Saint Roley? asks Gaius.

No, says the copperhead. An oystercatcher, with the faintest French accent.

That's Saint Roley, says Gaius. He goes by that name.

One doesn't go by such a name, surely, says the copperhead. One is granted a sainthood, post mortem.

Circumstances, says Gaius. He was named by the infant Terence, who was originally planning call him Chicken, but was advised against it.

Interesting, but that's not why I'm here, says the copperhead. I wished to meet you, having heard of your writings.

Here on Kangaroo Island! says Gaius, surprised.

We're not quite the backwater you think us, says the copperhead.

I didn't mean that, says Gaius. Only that I'm flattered.

Have you thought of updating them? asks the copperhead. Some of your ideas are quite dated.

I'm always updating, says Gaius. In fact I'm here making notes on the regeneration, and the progress or otherwise of endangered species.

I'm listed as vulnerable, says the copperhead.

I'm aware of that. I shall add you to my list of sightings, says Gaius. You're a pygmy copperhead, Austrelaps labialis.

I am, says the copperhead. Don't bugger up the spelling.

Gaius smiles. As if he would bugger up the spelling.

And how have you found things, after the fires? asks Gaius.

Not great, says the copperhead. We've all had to make changes.

May I ask what changes? asks Gaius.

For example, one spots a dunnart, asleep  in a grass clump, says the copperhead. We know now they're critically endangered. 

And this changes your behaviour? asks Gaius.

Let's say that it might, says the copperhead. 

Fascinating, that you consider these things, says Gaius.

Not at all, says the copperhead. Any other questions?

Dated, says Gaius. To what were you referring?

Your cures for toothache, says the copperhead. Erigeron. Berries that make your teeth fall out. Totally useless.

I admit modern dentistry is an improvement, says Gaius.

And there are no humans whose saliva is an antidote to snake bite, adds the copperhead. Furthermore, snakes do not flee people born of adultery.

Much of my early writing was based on hearsay, says Gaius. 

You should issue a statement, says the copperhead.

No need. It's well known, says Gaius. These days I tend to rely on real evidence.

As if to support this, Saint Roley appears, with good news.

He has spotted a dunnart!

Predator Conscience

 Saint Roley flies into the ravine.

He's looking for a grass clump, a nest, a sleeping dunnart.

He spots a grass clump, and lands softly nearby.

He creeps up and parts the grass with his beak.

Ah! A cup-shaped nest made of dried grass and leaves.

Empty.

This could be the nest of the dunnart that was eaten by the night heron, says Saint Roley, aloud.

An indeterminate sound arises, from another grass clump.

Sorrow, anguish, discomfort?  

Saint Roley tiptoes over.

Oops! A copperhead!

Ahem, says Saint Roley. I don't mean to bother you. I'm in search of a dunnart.

Dunnarts are rare, says the copperhead.

I know, says Saint Roley. Have you seen one?

Not since yesterday, says the copperhead. There was one asleep in that tussock.

What a shame, says Saint Roley. I was hoping to find one.

That was my hope also, says the copperhead. 

Were you planning to eat it? asks Saint Roley.

Perhaps not, says the copperhead. They are endangered.

At last! A predator with a conscience! says Saint Roley. I'm sure there are other more common prey for you to choose from. 

Skinks everywhere, says the copperhead. But I'm picky. I like frogs. I sometimes take mammals or birds 

That's a joke, right? says Saint Roley.

No, says the copperhead. But your legs are thin, and you look peaky.

I'm tired, says Saint Roley.

Then why waste your time looking for dunnarts? asks the copperhead.

I'm helping a friend out, says Saint Roley. I was in Emu Bay with dear Porntip. We made a nest together, she laid an egg in it. The nest was destroyed. End of baby.

O sniff! says the copperhead. Was it an egg or a baby?

It was an egg, says Saint Roley. But if it had hatched, and grown to maturity, it would have helped me get over the loss of my brother.

A double whammy, says the copperhead.

Saint Roley had not thought of this. A double whammy! So it is.

Who is your friend? asks the copperhead. 

Gaius Plinius Secundus, says Saint Roley. A natural historian. 

I've heard of him, says the copperhead. I'd like to meet him.

He's down by the shore eating an orange, says Saint Roley. 

I'll head down there, says the copperhead.

Okay, says Saint Roley. But best if you don't surprise him. Circle round and approach from the front.

Allow me to know how to approach him, says the copperhead.

Sorry, says Saint Roley. That's me. Overly helpful.

I'm sure you meant well, says the copperhead. Goodbye.

She slithers away, towards Gaius.

Saint Roley continues to look for a dunnart.

It's Called Rocket Science

Gaius is alone, with his notebooks and an orange.

He flips through a notebook. Somewhere, there should be notes on the dunnart.

Ah yes, notes on the dunnart.

They sleep, during the day. 

I'd forgotten that, thinks Gaius. But it should have been obvious, if the night heron ate one. So it seems I can have the day off. I'll go for a swim.

He crunches down to the shore, with his orange. 

The wind is chilly.

He sits down on a rock.

No one to talk to.  He peels the orange.

A bird alights, on the rock beside him. It's Saint Roley.

All alone? says Saint Roley.

Day off, says Gaius. I had planned to search for a dunnart, but they sleep in the day.

They can be woken, says Saint Roley. Do you have reason to believe one is nearby?

Yes, says Gaius. A night heron ate one here, as recently as yesterday.

Did he not know they're endangered? says Saint Roley.

How was he to know? says Gaius. 

By their scarcity, says Saint Roley. It's called rocket science.

Not rocket science, says Gaius.

Yes, rocket science, says Saint Roley. I know the expression.

But the expression is, 'it's not rocket science', says Gaius.

What's the point of that? asks Saint Roley.

Rocket science is complicated, says Gaius. 

So it is, says Saint Roley. 

I'm glad you're here, says Gaius. How is Porntip? 

Not happy, says Saint Roley. Some fool ran over our nest in his vehicle, scrambling our baby.

I'm sorry to hear it, says Gaius.

Where's that baby you had? asks Saint Roley.

Baby-Glossy? We left him under an umbrella-shaped rock, learning English from Captain Baudin.

Pity, says Saint Roley. Porntip and I can teach English

Probably a purer form of English than Captain Baudin, says Gaius.

Probably, says Saint Roley. But French is also a beautiful language.

I never could get the hang of it, says Gaius.

Shall I try and rustle up a dunnart? asks Saint Roley.

I'd be grateful, says Gaius. 

Delicious Marsupial

Now it is morning.

Sunlight filters into the cave

Everyone is awake now.

Only Gaius is missing.

Gaius returns to the cave with his notebook.

You were right, Terence, it was a night heron, says Gaius. 

He shows Terence his notebook.

Night Heron x 1  

Is that my one? asks Terence.

One and the same, says Gaius. Well spotted!

Terence feels proud.

We should get going, says Arthur. 

Are we going to split up? asks Louisa.

Not me and the Ear, says Terence. 

You can both stay with me, says Gaius. 

Where? asks Terence. 

Here, says Gaius. You can help me. Your night heron gave me some crucial information. 

Did you speak to it? asks Louisa.

I did, says Gaius. Unbelievable as it may seem, yesterday evening it had eaten a dunnart.

What? cries Louisa. I don't believe it! A dunnart! They're critically endangered!

I know, I know, says Gaius. But one needs to tread carefully. The night heron was unaware of the plight of the dunnart. He was simply eating a delicious marsupial treat.

So, says Arthur. Did you write Dunnart x 1 in your notebook?

No, says Gaius. I did not feel justified, not having seen it.  

There may be other dunnarts in the area, says Louisa. Is that why you're staying?

Yes, says Gaius. That's why I'm staying.

Okay, says Arthur. But I'm off.

Don't forget to look for Alfonse, and his family, says Louisa. 

Hey! says Terence. I want to go with Arthur.

You can come with me if you like, says Louisa. I'm going to the lighthouse. We might see Alfonse there.

Yay! says Terence.

All right, says Gaius. I can manage here. Just leave me an orange.

O those oranges.

Will they never run out?

The parties split up.

White Underparts

 Not morning yet.

Terence and the Ear sit at the mouth of the cave.

Terence spots something, down by the shore.

A ghost emu, says Terence.

Too small, says the Ear.

A small one, says Terence.

And Louisa was joking, says the Ear. There are no ghost emus round here.

Ghosts can be anywhere, says Terence. Let's sneak up behind it.

Okay, says the Ear.

Terence sneaks down to the shore, loudly.

Crunch crunch.

The ghost emu looks up.

Quiet, snaps the ghost emu. I'm preying.

Don't bother, says Terence. She never listens.

Preying, says the ghost emu. It means trying to catch something for dinner.

No it doesn't, says Terence.

It might in these parts, says the Ear.

Thank you, says the ghost emu.

Are you a ghost emu? asks the Ear.

I'm a rufous night heron, says the ghost emu. And you?

An orange peel ear, says the Ear. I travel with Terence. We enter ear competitions. 

You're have attractive colouring, says the night heron. 

So do you, says the Ear. What do you call those colours?

Cinnamon upper parts and white underparts, says the night heron.

Ha ha, laughs Terence. White underparts.

Hush! says the night heron. Or it's goodbye, dinner.

What do you eat? asks the Ear.

Crabs, and small fish, says the heron, Sea turtle hatchlings, also frogs, mice and wasps.

What a life, says the Ear.

That's one way of looking at it, says the night heron.

We'll leave you alone then, says the Ear.

Wait, says Terence. Can we count you? 

I don't see why not, says the night heron.

Terence and the Ear crunch back to the cave where Gaius and the others are sleeping.

Guess what? says Terence, poking Gaius.

Some confusion follows.

The Lost Inscription

It's still night time.

The ravine opens onto a beach which is sandy.

On each side are high rocks.

On one side a black cave yawns open (not literally).

Arthur heads for it.

Should he do that? asks Gaius.

Why not? asks Louisa.

Might he become trapped by the tide? asks Gaius.

No, says Louisa. Let's follow him.

wersh-wersh-shoom 

Hear that? says Terence.

Yes, says the Ear. That's the sound of the sea.

blunch-blunch

Pebbles shifting.

They enter the cave.

Anyone got a torch? asks Arthur.

I have, says Louisa. 

She turns it on. 

Ooh! Rimstone and stalactites. 

Wonderful, says Gaius. Is this the one with the famous inscription?

Could be, says Louisa. No one's seen the inscription since the 1990s.

What's an inscription? asks Terence.

Writing, says Louisa. They say Captain Baudin wrote his name on the wall of the cave. You can't see it now.

Probably covered by shifting sands, says Gaius. 

Let's DIG! says Terence.

He starts digging at random.

I may be just an Ear, says the Ear, but I would dig close to the rock face.

Where's the  rock face? asks Terence.

It's all rock face, says Gaius.

Just imagine you're him, says Louisa. You walk into the cave with your men. You say: Let's leave something to show we've been here. You decide to scratch your name on the rock face. Now where would you do it?

Imagine you're lower, says Arthur.

Because I'm a lobster, says Terence. 

No, says Arthur. At the time you would've been a human sea captain. But if sand's covering it now the floor of the cave at the time must have been lower.

Good deductive reasoning, Arthur, says Gaius. Now Terence, where will you dig?

Why do I have to do it? asks Terence.

You don't, says Louisa. You'd never find it anyway. 

Let's all try and get a few hours' sleep before sunrise, says Gaius. 

I never sleep, says Terence. What will I do?

Keep watch, says Louisa. 

What for? asks Terence.

The tide coming in to drown us, says Arthur.

Night birds, says Gaius.

Ghost emus, says Louisa.

The sleepers lie down in the sand.

Terence and the Ear sit at the mouth of the cave, keeping watch for these things.

Two Wrong Persons

Is anyone thinking what I'm thinking? asks Louisa.

What are you thinking? asks Arthur.

That what we're doing is crazy, says Louisa.

What in particular? asks Arthur.

We're not meant to be here at night, says Louisa. There's no camping. And we've run out of oranges. And you ate the chocolate, and we've left Baby-Glossy with a lobster.....

That was sensible, says Gaius, cycling close behind them. 

Okay, maybe that was sensible, says Louisa. But what about the rest?

Look around you, says Arthur. 

Louisa doesn't need to.

Blackness, dripping bushes, the occasional revelatory moon glint.

That owl.

Or another one.

And rocks.

Are you SCARED? asks Terence.

Me no, says the Ear.

Not you, her, says Terence.

No, says Louisa. Just thinking. Do you think you've missed seeing Alfonse?

Wah! says Terence. Have I?

No, says Gaius. Alfonse will be here tomorrow, with his family.

And his ear, says Terence.

If it is an ear, says Louisa. What was the competition exactly?

Whose is an ear? says Terence.

That's not an Ear competition, says the Ear. I was expecting something like, you know, a whisper. Which ear can best hear it. Perhaps it gets softer. Until none of us can.

That's a great competition, says Louisa. Did we arrange where to meet them?

No, says Gaius. But they're sure to turn up at Remarkable Rocks. 

Or the lighthouse, says Arthur.

Indeed. Or the lighthouse, says Gaius. Neither of which were burnt down.

Okay, says Louisa. We should split up, so we don't miss them.

At first light, we shall, says Gaius. It's an excellent way to proceed. We can all make notes on the recovery. We can all count endangered birds. And work our way back to where we left Captain Baudin with Baby-Glossy.

But who will I go with? asks Terence. What if it's the wrong person?

In fact, says the Ear. There will be two wrong persons.

Who are they? asks Terence.

We don't know yet, says Louisa. But whoever is the right person can call you, if you're not with them.

Or, says the Ear, they could whistle, and we would come.

And we'd automatically win the competition, says Terence.

I should say so, says the Ear.

By this time they have arrived at the Ravine des Casoars, which at night is even more dreary.