Try-again, try-again, u-may be-be-be luck-ee ee ee.
“Would you believe,” Joe said, “that once upon a time I used to shoot pigeons? When I came out of the Army I lived on the mainland with my uncle. I was a crack shot, and he used to ask me to sneak over here to the island and pot him some pigeons: twelve bullets for twelve birds. He knew Auntie Ruth owned the island and was a guardian of Tane, but there was bad blood between them. I thought it was a huge joke, banging away at the birds and then getting away before she was able to catch me. When I got home I loved watching my uncle’s face as he counted the pigeons. ‘One, two, three, ten, eleven twelve … thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. Hey, girl, I only gave you twelve bullets! Where did you get the extra bullets from?’ Then I would tell him how I waited for two birds to come together and kiss — and that’s when I would pull the trigger.”
Joe’s smile turned to regret. “You know what stopped me in the end? Auntie Ruth set an old Maori ground trap for me. I put my foot in it and, next minute, I was dangling upside down from a tree. You know, when she saw it was me, she didn’t give me a growling or thrash me. Instead, she cried. She freed me, kissed me and let me go. But when she died, she took her revenge on me — she left me the island and the birds to look after. I’ve been paying penance for my pigeon-shooting days ever since.”
Joe struck inland. She came across a trap. Inspected it. The trap had not been sprung. Cleaned it with her Bowie knife. Set it again.
“How often do you check the traps?” Skylark asked.
“Once a week,” Joe said. “But actually, I can always tell if there is a predator around. The birds go into hiding. The forest becomes silent. Beware the forest where the birds do not sing.”
The track began to climb, but Joe took it at an easy clip.
“How are you doing?” Arnie asked Skylark. “It’s not too tiring for you, is it? All this climbing?”
“Too tiring?” Presumably Arnie was referring to her physical condition. Skylark was just about to cut him down — but instead bit back on herself. “No,” she answered. “But thanks for asking.”
They reached the very heart of the island. The forest was filled with flashes of red, like feathered lightning.
“We’re here,” Joe said. “Welcome to my kaka colony.”
The air was alive with birdsong:
Hail, guardian! You come with strangers! Welcome, waewae tapu! Welcome to the marae of nga kaka iwi.
The parrots filled the air with their glorious chattering. They were large, olive brown and green with red rump and abdomen. Their heads were topped with grey crowns. They seemed to have an enormous repertoire of conversational liquid songs, whistles and gliding soprano runs. In flight they flashed scarlet underwings, setting the forest on fire.
Skylark was entranced. She didn’t know what the kaka were doing, but they were either at very aggressive play or very subdued war. She gave a small scream as one of them flew down and landed on her shoulder. The weight surprised her.
Kra! Kra! Ka! And who is this? Pretty polly, pretty polly, polly wolly doodle.
“Meet Flash Harry,” Joe laughed. “He’s the most gregarious of the colony. Say hello to Skylark, Harry.”
Flash Harry hopped closer up Skylark’s shoulder. She gave a small squeal as he started to nip at her with his beak.
Hello darling. What brings a sweetie like you to this neck of the woods?
“He’s giving you love bites. Harry loves women.”
Flash Harry gave an appreciative whistle and wink.
“That was a wolf whistle!” Skylark gasped.
“Only a bird would get away with it,” Arnie whispered to Joe.
Suddenly another kaka came flying down from the trees. This one landed on Arnie’s shoulder. “Hey —”
“That’s Carmen,” Joe said. “She’s Flash Harry’s mate and she’s just reminding him that she can play the flirting game too.”
Skylark laughed. Carmen gave a delicious sigh as she nestled close in to Arnie’s shoulder, and that set Flash Harry off. He bristled with jealousy, and with a screech, pounced on Carmen. With a haughty flip she moved out of his reach. A flutter of wings and she was away, leading Flash Harry on a merry dance through the forest and delighting other kaka. They joined in the chase, chuckling, whistling, and sometimes breaking off from steady flight to tumble about in the air, looping the loop around each other.
“They’re so wonderful,” Skylark said.
“Well, if you lived with them all the time you mightn’t think so,” Joe answered. “Always carrying on and calling day and night. But they’re the very reason why Auntie Ruth set up this bird sanctuary in the first place. Did Hoki or Bella tell you how Man interrupted the Great Circle of life, death and renewal? How he chopped down the Great Forest or set fire to it so that he could create pastureland for his sheep and cattle, or create towns and cities to live in, or the highways between? How he brought with him the dog, feral cat, rat and other bird destroyers like the stoat and even the honey bee? The possum and the deer came with Man too, raking the barks of the trees with their claws and antlers. Sometimes Man introduced a new species to control an earlier species he had let loose in the wild. He totally ravaged the forest and changed forever the ecology for all the bird species. What is worse is that Man also shifted the balance in favour of the seabirds. Where he went he created the environment for seabirds to feed upon. Food dumps, rubbish pits, offaclass="underline" there you will find the great gull scavengers. Because of Man they have increased in numbers, size and cruelty. And, you know, Man was so stupid when he tried to replace the great forest. He planted beech forest, which did not have the same vital food supplies for the landbirds. No wonder they declined so drastically.”
Joe’s voice was passionate. “This is why I live on this offshore island, Skylark. The forest on the island must be preserved because it is the only kind in which the kaka, as a colony, can survive. It provides them with the holes in the trunks where they can build their nests. The big trees also provide the kaka with an all-year-round variety of food — berries, shoots, nectar and the larvae of insects. When the giant trees decay and die, even in their death they attract the grubs of woodboring insects that sustain the kaka colony. The kaka love the wood-boring beetles. Only here has the Great Circle of Life been reinstated — life, death, renewal for the benefit of all. I must continue Auntie Ruth’s work and maintain the island’s ecology for as long as I can.”
Skylark pressed Joe’s hands. “You’ll do it,” she said.
Joe looked away, embarrassed. She began to scrape in the dirt.
“Whenever I find a dead kaka, I always bury the parrot. Somewhere here is Flash Harry’s father. Now he was a real Casanova. Ah, here we are.”
Joe picked up a skeletal frame. With delicate fingers, she detached its beak and intoned to its owner: “Your beak, old one, goes on a journey of its own now. Give to her who possesses it the power to split any branch, crush any seed, break any rock. Be proud that through it you will live again.”
Joe turned to Skylark. “Remember, Skylark, a beak is not just a —”
“Beak,” Skylark said. “Yes, I know.”
“It comes from a powerful bird with a double-jointed jaw. With a beak like this you will truly have the voice of leadership. It is also through the beak that a bird is able to breathe. A beak allows the bird to eat and drink. To sing, call, cry, warn in the night. And it is also strong enough to kill. All these things a claw and a feather cannot do.”
Joe looked at Arnie but winked at Skylark. “I suppose I’d better give your boyfriend one too. You never know.”