Another ditty started up. This time, Chieftain Grey Warbler led the roistering crowd:
“O, then it was Piwaka’s turn
He mooned the skuas with his bum
Their faces did with embarrassment burn
Piwaka had them on the run!”
Te Arikinui Kotuku and Huia watched it all with growing disdain. “You’d think,” Huia said, “that a certain timely intervention by certain female birds had not played a crucial part in the outcome.”
“Kia whakatane au i ahau?” Kotuku trilled. “Such is the way of man only to record the achievements of man. Man’s world, man’s history.” She tossed her gorgeous head in laughter — and that’s when she heard the outpouring of continuous liquid trills spilling through the air. “Huia, can you hear that? Girls?” she asked Te Arikinui Parera, Te Arikinui Korimako and Te Arikinui Karuwae. “Can you hear what I hear?”
The women bobbed their heads, mystified. Karuwae raised a wing at the sky. “There!” she pointed.
Coming out of the sun was a strange chieftainess, a small streaked brown bird with white tail feathers. The bird was still high in the heavens but her song was like crystal, every note threaded together in a strange bell-like karanga.
“Do you recognise her?” Korimako asked Parera.
“No. I’ve never seen such a bird before. However, that karanga is in Maori, though I must admit it’s delivered with an atrocious accent. There must be long-lost tribes beyond the Great Forest.”
“Not only that,” Kotuku said, “but for a chieftainess she looks such an ordinary bird! How can such a bird make such extraordinary music? She brings Heaven down to us. Who is she? Where does she come from?”
“She might be a spy sent by the manu moana,” Parera shivered.
Kotuku cocked her head, thinking this through. “Better to be safe than sorry,” she decided.
She stood up, lifted her throat and called to the assembly. “Kra-aak. Kra-aak. Hey, Tui, e moe ana te mata hi tuna, e ara ana te mata hi aua. When the eyes of those who fish for eels are sleeping, it is lucky for all that the eyes of those who catch mullet are open. Look, strangers are approaching.”
Taken aback, Chieftain Tui turned his gaze to the sky. He saw the two strangers. What bad luck that they had appeared right when he almost had that pretty bellbird in his feathery pocket. He heard the beautiful karanga.
“Karanga mai tatou e te manu whenua e …” Like Te Arikinui Kotuku, Tui had never heard such a karanga. It carolled away in a continuous cantilena of extraordinary simplicity and honesty. It existed beyond the ordinary compass of birdsong, even defying the normal rules of requiring breath. The song was sung with such sweetness that it pierced Tui’s heart with joy and he did not want it to stop.
Kotuku caught the flash of another bird in the sky. “The strange chieftainess does not come alone,” she said. “She has a warrior — and he, like her, is of an equally unknown appearance.” She turned to Chieftain Kahu. “Do you recognise the warrior, Kahu?”
“If he was as large as I am, I would say he was a hawk,” Kahu mused, “but he is only half my size and his wings are pointed.”
He scanned the sky for the rest of the travelling ope but, no, the two birds had come unaccompanied.
“They are either foolhardy or very brave,” Tui said, “or else the warrior must be of considerable prowess. We shall see.” He called out to Chieftain Popokotea of whiteheads and Chieftain Koekoea of long-tailed cuckoos. “Kia hiwa ra! Kia hiwa ra! Kia hiwa ra i tenei tuku! Kia hiwa ra i tera tuku! Be alert! Beware! Strangers are coming! Send out your sentries to challenge them.”
In a trice, the first warrior, a perky whitehead by the name of Hore, flew into the air. Typically inquisitive, territorially alert, Hore rushed up to the strange warrior and stilled just above his head.
“Swee swee swee chir chir! Advance no further unless you can justify your credentials!”
Hore turned and spiralled, winning admiring glances from the Runanga a Manu for his fancy wingwork. But what the runanga was really curious about was how the strange warrior would respond.
“I am Arnie, Chief of Falcons,” the warrior answered. “I come with my Lady Skylark to address the Parliament of Birds, here, in the Great Forest of Tane. Let us pass, little one.” Gently, but firmly, the strange warrior made a quick jab at the capering Hore and plucked some of his bum fluff.
With a slight yelp, his breast burning red with embarrassment, Hore turned away and retreated to the sacred tree with as much dignity as he could muster. Feathers ruffled, the chieftains set up a raucous cry of anger. To treat a sentry like that, when all around him the strange warrior was outnumbered, was foolhardy indeed. Who were the interlopers? Why had they come?
“Go,” Tui ordered the second challenger, Kawe, one of the best warriors of the long-tailed cuckoo clan.
Kawe had psyched himself up to the job. Hissing, wheezing and blowing he launched himself from the sacred tree and, as he came, called out to the strange chieftainess and her warrior. “Shweesht! State your business! Name your tribe! Why do you seek to korero with the Runanga a Manu —”
Kawe planed back and forth in front of the warrior. His baleful yellow eyes glared at Arnie in anger at the arrogant manner in which his mate, Hore, had been so summarily dispatched.
“I have already stated our names,” the strange warrior responded. “As to our tribe, my lady and I come from the future.”
The future? The Runanga a Manu tried to puzzle that one out. “Have you ever heard of that tribe?” Kotuku asked Chieftain Ruru of owls.
“Noooo,” Ruru intoned. “But I would think that it was a lo-ong way away from here.”
“State your business, state your business!” Kawe screeched again.
“Our business is the business of chiefs,” the strange warrior said, “to be discussed only with chiefs of the Runanga a Manu. Be on your way.” With that, the strange warrior made a deceptive pass then turned on his back and struck at Kawe’s rump. Before Kawe knew what had happened, he was falling, destabilised because he now lacked his tail feathers.
Again, the birds of the sacred tree set up an outraged commotion. “Did you see that? That was below the belt!” Scandalised, they flew among the branches, their feathers displayed in protest. “The stranger is asking for trouble,” Chieftain Kaka screeched. “Tui, dispatch a squad of warriors to teach the arrogant cock a lesson he thoroughly deserves.”
“Yes,” other birds called. “Teach the upstart a lesson! Rid him and his mistress from our territory!”
Chieftain Kahu intervened. “No,” he said to Tui. “The strange warrior is to be admired for his valour. His business, he says, is the business of chiefs? Then let the third challenge come from such a chief.”
Ignoring the gasps of astonishment, Kahu flew up to confront the strange warrior. His flight was so quick and strong that the newcomer, taken by surprise, backed away.
“That’s the way,” Chieftain Kawau yelled. “Show him who really rules the roost, Kahu!”
Kahu smiled at the strange warrior. He made a quick feint and jabbed at him with his long legs and their clawed extensions. The strange warrior did not retreat but, instead, deflected with his raking claw. Kahu felt the thrill of admiration.
“There are not many birds who would wish to engage me,” he said. “I am bigger than you, boy, and I could quarter you so fast you wouldn’t know until you hit the ground — all four pieces of you.”
The strange warrior bent his head in salute. “I acknowledge your mana, Chieftain Kahu of Harrier Hawks, for, although you do not know me, I am cousin to all hawks and eagles. I am Arnie of the falcon iwi, knight to the Lady Skylark, who comes from the future —”