13 October 1932

EMU AS A PLAY ACTOR

ANTICS TO DECOY STRANGERS FROM ITS NEST

The emu is no fool. It knows that man is the enemy of its young. So it takes elaborate precautions to mislead hunters. The story below shows how it will simulate disablement to decoy humans from its nest.

Tricks Of The Emu.

— Many years ago, when hard work was pleasant and the taxation tragedy hadn't evolved, we were trudging back to camp after a morning's line clearing on a honeysuckle flat in the South-East. It being Saturday, visions of the usual afternoon kangaroo hunt prompted good-natured bantering. We were passing through some scattered bushes when suddenly something rose up. It crossed in front of us, cutting such peculiar antics that we did not, for a second or two, recognise it for an emu, apparently and very much hurt. It stumbled, rose slowly, and with drooping head struggled along, as though with first one and then both legs broken. One of the men called out excitedly, 'Catch it! Catch it!' The youngest member of the party, a youth of 17, and guileless in the bush, rushed forward.

Then followed an interesting chase for nearly a quarter of a mile. Time and again the emu fell, and the young fellow actually touched it once, pulling out some of the strange wire-looking thatch that serves the purpose of feathers. Presently the emu, having accomplished its purpose of leading its pursuer far enough away straightened up to its full height and sailed off with majestic strides at 30 miles an hour, leaving the young man gaping with astonishment. None of the party had ever witnessed anything of the kind before in an emu, but guessed it was the bird's trick of leading an enemy away from its nest, so we all went back to search.

Now, in another far-distant part of the colony, in the saltbush regions, an emu's nest is frequently in the middle of a vast open plain, or in a comparatively open space in scattered bushes. This enables the bird to see enemies afar off. She, or he (for they both take turns at sitting) will either leave the nest and go right away, or sit down somewhere else some distance off and wait till the danger is past.

It is a marvellous fact that, though the eggs are a beautiful dark green, resting on the almost bare light red soil without any pretensions to a nest, it is not at all unusual to pass within a few yards without noticing them. A scientist could probably explain why they do not glisten brightly in the sun. The surface of the shell, being of orange-peel pattern, may have something to do with it.

But to get back to the story. Five of us searched for fully ten minutes before finding the eggs in a fairly open, space. Some of us had previously passed within a few feet of them. There were seven only, and as the number is usually nine to thirteen, the laying was evidently not completed. They were distributed, one for every member of the party, and the odd one was eventually given to the young man as a consolation prize for his long and disappointing chase. As the eggs were required for ornaments, the cook, an old hand, obligingly offered to blow them. Later he told the camp he couldn't understand the boss's objection to an emu egg for breakfast, seeing that he had been eating them in cakes and puddings for a week.— M. Payne, Brighton.

Shock For The Swaggies.

— In the eighties there was an hotel about five miles above Cuthero Station on the River Darling, but on the opposite side of the river. I forget the name. It was only a shanty of pine slabs and mud. Later it was burnt down, and now-only the stones of the chimneys remain.

It was kept by a man named Charlie Wilson and his wife. One morning Mrs. Wilson on rising went outside and found her husband hanging by the neck from a box tree. As there was no neighbors nearer than Cuthero Station, she left the man hanging, and covered him with a large calico bag, such as they used up there to cover their ration sheep after it had been slaughtered. She intended to wait until someone came along, so that she could send word to the police at Pooncarle.

About noon two swagmen came along. They went into the hotel and asked Mrs. Wilson for some meat. She was sitting down crying, and said she had no meat. They said, 'You are a liar; you have a whole sheep hanging up.' She put her hands to her face, and, bursting into fresh sobs, said, 'That's not meat; that's my poor Charlie.' Not catching all the woman's words, they went out to help themselves. When they pulled the bag off what they thought was the sheep, a corpse was staring them in the face. They dropped the bag and made for Cuthero Station as hard as they could go, never even stopping to pick up their swags.— E. H. Dodd, Goolwa.

Too Much For The Soldier.

— A few years back when the soldiers were returning from the war, it was a common sight to meet them in the street in a somewhat merry mood.

In King William street two young men came up to me and asked for 'the price of a drink,' Instead of complying with their request, I tried to take the mind off the subject by quoting these lines: —

The film flam flopped on the Flamaloo,
The Pollywog pinked so pale,
The Pipkin pipped a petulant boo to the garrulous gamp of the gale.
O, woe to the sweep of the swooping swipe
That booms o'er the bobbling bay,
And snickered the shark at the snooklng snipe
That lurks where the lamprey lay.
O, the sissolent, socculent sissling sea.

The soldier listened. Then turning to his mate, he said, 'Come on, Bill: he's got 'em bad.' — 'T.E.F..' Wayville.

Too Much Yabber For Billy.

— I was contracting on Parallan station, then managed by Mr. G. Noble. There was a blackfellow on the station named 'Sheepy Grass Billy.' Mr. Noble used to send him out to shepherds' camps with mails and small parcels. I was at the camp of a shepherd. Bob Evans, one evening, and this is the story he told me. Sheepy Grass was here today. He handed me a fork stick with a note from the boss. Said Sheepy. 'That one paper yabber (letter) Mr. Noble makem.'

He handed me the newspaper, saying, 'That one Adelaide paper yabber. This one baccy; storekeeper sendem.' Bob said, 'All right, Billy. You sit down. We have dinner byme-by.' Bob read Mr. Noble's note. It stated he was sending out the mail and a pound of tobacco. Bob counted the tobacco. There were two sticks short. Billy immediately came under suspicion. Bob said, 'Billy, you steal two sticks tobacco belonga me.'

Billy answered, 'No, boss. You yabber like big fellow policeman. Billy no stealem baccy.' Bob, holding up the note, said, 'This paper yabber like that.' Billy retorted, 'No good. Mr. Noble makem paper yabber big. He alonga Billy. Me go back. Me big fellow growl. Him must getem nother black fellow. No more Billy carry paper yabber.'

They had their dinner and then Billy said, 'Me walk now, Bobbie.' Bob replied, 'No. Me make paper yabber for Mr. Noble.' Billy enquired, 'You makem good fellow paper yabber. No. You makem paper yabber big fellow lie.' Bob wrote a note, tied it in the fork stick, and handed it to Billy.

Then Billy owned up that he had dug a hole in the sand of the creek and planted the missing tobacco there under a heap of stones. But to his dying day he was puzzled as to how that 'paper yabber' saw him plant the tobacco, and told the 'boss' all about it. He never trusted 'paper yabbers' again.— C. E. Roberts, Blinman.

Old Ocean Bed.

— A few miles from the Coonalpyn railway station on the Coorong side of the town, is the old Cold and Wet sheep station. Here can be seen some wonderful rocks which prove beyond doubt that Australia was once covered by the sea.

Many of these rocks are almost hidden by the mallee scrub, but there is one extra big one which can be seen for many miles. It is about 50 ft. high, and from the top of this rock one can see a large area of mallee scrub and sand hills. There is also a round rock some what like a ball supported on three short legs. It weighs many tons.

About two miles from these rocks is a property known as Kangaroo Flat. Here may be seen a two-roomed shack built of stone. The back wall is one solid rock about 30 ft. long, 12 ft. high, and 10 to 12 ft. thick. Many years ago a swaggy is said to have died of thirst on this flat within a few chains of water, as one of the best soaks in the desert is on this flat. — 'Ex-Mallee,' Myponga.

How Littlehampton (S.A.) Got Its Name.

— Years ago, when England and France were at war, there lived at Littlehampton, a small town in the South of England, a fisherman and his wife and child. They were happy together and lived a quiet and peaceful life.

One day the fisherman went out in his boat and did not return. His wife, becoming anxious, informed her friends, and they went to search for him. No trace could be found. Weeks, months, and years passed. But the wife never gave up hope of his return. This is what happened to the fisherman.

While out in his boat a big French ship captured him. He was taken to France, and put in prison with a lot of other Englishmen. There was nothing in the camp to occupy the time or minds of the prisoners, and many of them went insane. The fisherman thought, 'I wonder if I could make anything to pass the time away.'

Before he left home he had made his little daughter a wooden cot, Now, he thought, 'I wonder if I could make a model of it.' But there was nothing to make a model out of, until, one day, he saw the cook chopping up shin bones for soup. He asked the cook if he could have one of them when he had finished with it, and the cook gave it to him.

From this rough material he carved a beautiful little cot, an exact replica of the one he had made for his tiny daughter in England. When the war was over this man was set free, and with him he took the little cot. His wife and daughter were overjoyed at seeing him alive, and he gave the child the cot for a keepsake.

When his daughter grew up she married a Mr. Grey. The couple migrated to South Australia and settled in the Adelaide Hills. They called the place Littlehampton, after their old home in England. The bone cot was handed down from generation to generation. It is now in the hands of a very dear friend of theirs and is a marvellous piece of work. — 'K.I.,' Kangaroo Island.

Miners Ghost.

— When the Wallaroo mines were first discovered, men came from all parts, and in every manner, to the district. Sometimes they disappeared as mysteriously.

The mines had only been worked for about two months when a 'new chum,' Bill Blank, came to the camp. He quickly found an admirer in Betty Buxom.

One of the most successful miners was Pat O'Leak. Betty was very fond of presents and Pat was fond of Betty. Whenever Pat went to Adelaide he would take back a present to please her. But he was very quarrelsome fellow, and when he found that Bill was Betty's favorite he was mad with jealousy. In his tent, he vowed vengeance against his rival.

Eventually Bill disappeared. Betty was heart broken, and she openly accused Pat of murder. But about a week later, Bill returned. He had discovered new ore, richer than any yet found. The same night, a couple of miners passing Pat's tent, saw the owner at the door. They were astonished to note that his face was a dull blue, his eyes glassy, and and that the haft of a knife was right in the middle of his chest. They slowly approached the figure, and were amazed when it vanished.

Pat in the flesh was never seen again But next month another miner saw the same ghost-like figure. Now it is said that if anyone cares to go there in the early morning of the 12th of any month, he will see the ghost. No one is able to account for this. The body of Pat was never found - "R.A.J." Tantanoola.