Mister Cassowary (5 page)

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 nodded. ‘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.'

Dad nodded as he pulled on his boots. ‘Okay, good. I want to tackle the middle paddock this morning. We'll have to move fast if this cyclone's going to hit.'

I strode out to the shed in front of Dad. By the end of today, he'd think I was practically an adult. I had to show him I could go to the working bee with or without him and he could tell me the truth about Grandad.

Dad spent the morning slashing and spraying weeds, while I picked up the oversized plastic bags that were used to protect the bananas. After one whole year of lying among the plants, they were covered in sludgy leaves and stale, stinking mud. I found out the hard way that they made great hiding places for spiders and snails. Probably snakes, too.

‘Ready for lunch?' asked Dad after a few hours. I
wiped the moisture from my top lip. The sky was still thick with clouds, and the air was heavy and close, like at home before a thunderstorm. My head was so hot it felt like I'd stuck it in the oven.

‘Not yet,' I said, even though my arms and legs were aching.

‘At least let's go in for a drink?' Dad's work shirt was drenched with sweat.

‘Nope, I'm right.'

We worked for another hour and by that time my stomach was rumbling and my throat was parched.

‘Come on, mate. You've worked like a trooper. Shall we call it quits?'

‘You can,' I said, standing next to the pile of blue plastic that was now higher than me. ‘I'm going to finish the whole paddock first.'

Dad tipped up his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead. ‘Look, Flynn, I get it. I hadn't realised what a hard worker you are. Let's call it a truce and get something to eat.'

‘No thanks.'

‘Is this about yesterday?'

I didn't answer. Instead I grabbed the next bag and yelped as a toad jumped onto my foot.

‘Is it that friend of yours? Abby? Flynn, is she putting ideas in your head?'

‘No, Dad! It's not about Abby!' I flung the wet, half-disintegrated bag onto the pile.

‘Well, what is it, mate? I'm not telepathic. You have to fill me in or I can't help you.'

I picked up another bag, but Dad snatched it away. ‘Flynnie. Stop!' he ordered, moving it out of my reach. ‘What's wrong?'

‘Dad, stop calling me that! I want to go to the working bee, and I want to know what happened to Grandad Barney. You can't keep hiding things from me!'

There was a loud rustle beside us and Dad jumped. But when nothing followed, he let out a long breath. ‘Flynnie, Grandad Barney's dead. Nothing I can do will change that. '

‘Dad! Don't call me Flynnie!'

‘Sorry, Flynn. Why don't we go inside, hey?'

‘No, I don't want to.' I kicked a piece of plastic that had blown off the pile.

‘Stubborn, aren't you? Just like your grandad.'

‘I wouldn't know,' I mumbled.

‘What was that?'

‘You don't even care what happened to Grandad Barney, Dad!' I shouted. ‘Just like you don't care about cassowaries. Have you thought about the cassowary we hit? What if he had a family? If you cared, even a bit, you'd take me to the rehab centre Grandad Barney built, and you'd ask the rangers about the cassowary. But you won't. Because you're scared.'

‘Flynn! What's got into you?'

‘It's true! You're scared of them. You jump every time you think you hear one. They're only birds.'

‘Cassowaries are not just birds,' Dad growled. ‘They're the most dangerous birds in the world. They can …' He narrowed his eyes, inspecting my face like he was seeing it for the first time.

I glared at the pile of plastic bags. ‘Dad, I didn't even know Grandad. Or why he loved cassowaries so much.' My words came out like hiccups, all up and down and
squeaky. ‘That's why I want to go to the rehab centre. To
find out who he was.'

Dad stepped closer and put his arm around me.
‘Look, I'll admit,' he said, ‘I am a little over-­protective
sometimes. You're my son, Flynn, and I love you.' He squeezed my shoulders. ‘I guess I have been away too much. I hadn't realised how grown up you are, and … well, if it really means that much to you to see Grandad's centre, then …'

I blinked, determined not to cry.

‘The truth is, it won't do me any harm either,' continued Dad, releasing my shoulders. ‘When it comes to cassowaries, it's just …' He sighed. ‘It's not that I don't trust you, Flynn, you know that, don't you? Cassowaries and me … well, it's a long story, and a little hard to explain right now. But how about we take one step at a time, and start by going to the working bee.'

I rang Mum at six the next morning.

‘Hey, Mum.'

‘Hi, honey. You're up early. I'm just on my way home from night shift. How're things?'

‘Good. Hey, guess what?'

‘What?'

‘Dad and I are going to the working bee!'

‘You are?'

‘Yep! Dad changed his mind. He's coming, too. And while we're there, I'm going to look for …' I hesitated. Should I tell Mum about the baby cassowaries and my plan to look for their dad? Probably not. ‘I've got some things to do, that's all.'

There was silence down the phone. I wondered if Mum was sleepy after her week of night shifts. But it turned out she was just worrying about Dad. ‘Are you sure Dad's okay with it?' she asked eventually. ‘He's not feeling too … how can I put it … too emotional?
Going back to the rehab centre will be a big thing for him, after Grandad Barney's, you know, accident. Are you sure he said yes?'

I pressed the phone close. ‘Dad said it'll do him good,' I whispered. ‘He's looking forward to it.'

Looking forward to it was a bit of a stretch. Dad had been quiet all evening after he'd rung Walter to say we'd be coming. I had a feeling he'd be more than happy if the heavy clouds outside split wide open and washed the working bee away.

‘Well, make sure you keep an eye on him for me, okay?' said Mum.

‘I will. Bye, Mum.'

‘Bye, honey.'

I was already waiting on the driveway, watching the wind whirl leaves and flower petals across the lawn, when Walter's white LandCruiser rattled up.

A hand waved from the open passenger window, and then a head popped out. Today Abby's hair was loosely pinned back with sunflower clips. There were no plaits in sight. She ducked her head back inside and tooted the horn as the LandCruiser stopped in front of me.

‘Well, well, if it isn't Mister Cassowary,' said Walter, easing himself down from the driver's seat. He wore the same faded singlet and old thongs from the other day. ‘Got something for you.' He pushed a warm container into my hands. ‘Shepherd's pie. The missus's speciality.'

The mashed potato looked rich and creamy, and there was a generous pile of grated cheese on the top. My heart squeezed. The dish reminded me of Mum. I remembered her worried voice on the phone. I wished she was coming to the rehab centre with us.

‘Thanks,' I croaked. ‘My favourite.'

‘Mine too,' said Abby.

I hadn't seen Abby since we'd gone looking for the cassowary chicks. I thinned my lips and looked at her through narrowed eyes as I thought of something. Why did Walter just call me Mister Cassowary?

‘What you got there?' Dad asked, walking over from the house.

‘Shepherd's pie,' I said.

Dad shot Walter a grateful look.

‘Peace offering,' said Walter. ‘To say thanks for coming to the working bee.'

‘Thanks. Go on and put it in the kitchen, Flynn. We'll have it tonight.'

‘Okay. Want to come?' I tipped my head, beckoning Abby to follow me. Once we were inside, I swung around to face her. ‘You told Walter about the chicks, didn't you?' I scolded.

Abby shrugged.

‘But you promised!'

‘Keep your hair on,' she said. ‘I didn't tell him everything.'

‘Flynn! Come on! We're waiting,' called Dad from outside.

‘Did you tell him about the cassowary we hit?' I
hissed.

‘No! Of course not!'

‘So, we're still going to look for him today?' I said.

‘Flynn!' yelled Dad again.

‘I've got a plan,' whispered Abby as we ran back outside.

Once we were buckled up, Dad asked Walter what the go was at the working bee.

‘Well, we're basically doing a big clean-up. Left it a bit late, but we still need to get the debris cleared out of harm's way, especially since that cyclone off the coast might be coming inland as early as tonight.'

‘Inland? Does that mean it's going to hit us?' I asked.

Dad and Walter exchanged glances. ‘Don't worry about that now, Flynn,' said Dad. ‘So, Walter, what needs to be done?'

Walter turned the LandCruiser in the opposite direction to town. ‘Just the routine stuff,' he said. ‘Trimming trees, throwing out rubbish, checking the fences. Don't want the cassowaries getting out in the cyclone, do we, kiddos?'

Abby laughed. ‘Not like the crocs at the croc farm.'

‘You any good with a shovel, Steve? Got a few drains to unblock. Could do with a hand digging them out.'

‘What? In the cassowary pens?' Dad answered quickly.

‘No, mate. Only rangers allowed in the pens.'

Dad's shoulders relaxed. ‘Okay, good. Just checking. What about Flynn? Is there something safe he can do?'

‘Dad!'

‘Flynn and Abby will be in charge of the leaves and the smaller, fallen branches,' answered Walter. ‘They need to be raked, picked up and added to the bonfire stack. Although …' He peered out the windscreen at the branches whipping around in the wind. ‘Might be too windy for the bonfire, but we'll see. Okay with that, Flynn?'

‘Sure,' I said, grinning at Abby. We'd have plenty of time to snoop doing that.

‘Great! Make sure you work hard, and I'll slip you an extra snag for lunch.' Walter smiled at me in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Actually, talking of snags, you don't fancy cooking the barbecue, do you, Steve? I always get so tied up, we end up having lunch at four o'clock.'

I only half-listened as Dad agreed. I pressed my nose against the window, watching the ocean. Instead of turquoise like the other day, the water was inky blue. White ruffles topped the choppy waves, which made puffs of foam as they crashed against the beach.

‘Abby?' I whispered.

She hummed as she fixed the clips in her hair.

‘Abby!' I said a little louder.

‘You okay back there, Flynn?' asked Dad.

‘You're not feeling car sick, are you?' asked Walter.

‘No. Just …' I couldn't hold my questions in any longer. ‘When we get to the centre,' I blurted, ‘will we be able to see the cassowaries? Can we talk to that ranger, and ask if any new cassowaries have been brought in?'

‘Flynn!' Dad said firmly. ‘It's a working bee, not a zoo excursion!'

‘By golly, he reminds me of your old man.' Walter laughed. He looked at me in the rear-vision mirror. ‘How about we have a chat to Cathy when we get there? She's been the head ranger ever since I retired, and I'm sure she'll be happy to answer all your questions.'

I nodded. ‘Did Cathy know my grandad, too?'

‘Flynn,' cautioned Dad.

Walter pulled into a narrow driveway that led to a white two-story house. There were no other cars parked outside. ‘Looks like we're the only ones here. Cathy must have been called out on a job.'

‘A rescue?' I asked.

‘Come on,' said Walter, opening his door. ‘We'll get the ball rolling. There's a stack of volunteers due at nine o'clock, so I'm sure Cathy's not too far away.'

Behind the house was a series of heavy-duty wire fences. It looked more like a high-security prison than a place for sick and injured cassowaries.

‘Can I show Flynn around?' asked Abby once we were out of the car. ‘You know, since Cathy's not here.' She shot me a knowing look.

Dad opened his mouth, but I interrupted before he had the chance to speak. ‘Just till the others get here?' I pleaded. ‘We won't go near the cassowaries, promise.'

‘Fine with me,' said Walter, passing Abby a bulging bunch of keys. ‘How about you open up and show Flynn the plaque we did up for his grandad?' He winked at me. ‘Then you can have a go with your questions when Cathy gets back.'

Abby took the keys, but Dad still hovered over us. ‘You'll just be inside, then?' he asked, his eyes flicking nervously towards the high fences.

‘Can I get you to give me a hand with these Eskies, Steve?' Walter interrupted, pointing to a park across
the road. ‘See the barbecue? We'll pop them over there.' He picked up an Eskie and pushed it into Dad's hands.

‘Be careful,' Dad called before crossing the road.

‘See you in a bit.' Walter grabbed the second Eskie and followed Dad.

Abby unlocked the sliding glass door of the house. Inside it smelt of eucalyptus and forest and was set up as a display room with a long wooden counter loaded with books and leaflets.

She pointed to a plaque standing in the middle of the counter. I read:
In memory of Barney Hutchinson
.
In recognition and appreciation of his support and spon
sorship of the Cassowary Rehabilitation Centre
.

‘So did Grandad really support the centre?' I
asked.

‘Yep, sure did,' she nodded. ‘Come on.' She sailed past the counter, heading for a door marked
Staff Only
.

‘Wait a sec.' Posters above the counter showed casso
waries at different ages, and examples of the berries they liked to eat.
Cassowaries wander from the
beach to the mountains, looking for fruit as it ripens
, the
poster said, with arrows labelling the parts of the adult cassowary. I tried the new words out under my breath. ‘Casque.' The horn on top of their heads. ‘Wattles.' The cherry coloured flaps of skin that dangle below their necks. ‘Ear.' Wait up. So, that's what those mysterious holes were? Their ears? Weird.

‘Here, feel this.' Abby passed me a huge turquoise-green sphere.

I needed two hands to hold it. ‘What is it?'

‘A cassowary egg. Big isn't it?'

It was shaped like an ordinary chook egg, but it was way bigger, and rough, like coconut chocolate. I quickly handed it back, worried I might drop it.

‘Can you imagine sitting on that for 50 days,' said Abby. ‘No wonder male cassowaries are grumpy during breeding season. Anyway, come on, we'd better get going if we want to look around before Cathy arrives.'

I turned from the counter and stopped at a large aerial shot of Mission Beach. It stretched from the floor to the ceiling and all the main roads, waterfalls and national parks were marked on it like a map.

‘Look, the jetty,' I said. Near that was a green area marked out with yellow dots leading all the way from the beach to the rainforest.

Handwritten in the middle of the area were the words
Cassowary Corridor
.

‘Is that Grandad Barney's farm?' I asked.

Abby was back at the
Staff Only
door. ‘Hurry,' she said. ‘We're running out of time.'

‘Wait. Is this Grandad's farm where it says
Cassowary Corridor
?'

Abby came over and peered at the map, tracing her finger from the beach to the thick rainforest. ‘I'm not sure. I think so …'

The door slid open.

‘Hey, kiddos!' said Walter, popping his head inside. ‘Cathy's here. You want to come and meet her?'