by Peter Klein
CAPTAIN PETE lives in the sleepy hillside village of Bethanga, on a small hobby farm with his wife Narelle and daughter Isabella. They share their home with a happy cluster of farmyard animals. Pete is an award-winning singer-songwriter/bush-poet who has performed in the Albury-Wodonga area for over thirty years. He is currently teaching Creative Music at Belvoir Special School and also visits primary schools and libraries as an author/poet/musician with an exciting and creative interactive show!
LEON DE MONTIGNIE’s astute observations of life in Australia are recorded in his many detailed drawings and paintings. He works as a freelance artist and is currently creating an exhibition for his comprehensive paintings of the suburbs. His unique artwork adorns buildings, homes and schools across Australia. His vast travels and life experiences often allow him to create his artwork from memory alone. He has completed all of his Mudpoo illustrations without seeing a word of the text!
Your adventures with Mudpoo and friends don’t stop here! Captain Pete invites you to visit our website for stories, activities, songs, pictures, recipes and much, much, more . . .We hope to meet you very soon right here:
www.mudpoo.com.au
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to my family; Narelle, Sam, Todd and Isabella for their support and inspiration. I acknowledge the assistance of Dr Damian Michael from The Australian National University. I appreciate the assistance I received from the staff at ‘Scales’ and ‘Rob Lacey Photography’ in Wodonga. Thank you to the Bethanga community and to all of the ‘real’ characters who gave their permission to appear in this book. I’d also like to thank my team at JoJo publishing; Barry, Jo, Riima and Adam, who are always flexible and professional in their approach. A special thank you to Leon who leads the way with his amazing ink pen sketches. You’re all a joy to work with.
Mudpoo and the Fungus Mystery
Written by Peter Klein
Illustrated by Leon deMontignie
Published by JoJo Publishing
‘Yarra’s Edge’
2203/80 Lorimer Street
Docklands VIC 3008
Australia
Email: [email protected]
or visit www.jojopublishing.com
© 2013 JoJo Publishing
No part of this printed or video publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner:
JoJo Publishing
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication data
Klein, Peter.
Mudpoo and the Fungus Mystery / Peter Klein; illustrator, Leon deMontignie. Edited by Riima Daher
978-0-9874635-1-7 (ePub.)
For primary school age.
Adventure stories--Juvenile fiction.
deMontingie, Leon.
A823.4
Edited by Riima Daher
Designed by Madacin Creative
Distributed by
Port Campbell Press
www.portcampbellpress.com.au
Conversion by Winking Billy
Welcome to the third exciting (true) Mudpoo Adventure; all of your old friends are back with a few new characters.
MUDPOO is a happy, curious, boy who loves exploring and discovering everything old and new, wherever he may be. He loves to help Captain Pete with his inventions and often has some brilliant ideas. After making a wish on ‘The Magic Tree Stump’ (that’s another story), he is even more trusted by all animals! Harry is his best friend.
HARRY is a loyal and tenacious little dog who loves Mudpoo, Gus and Captain Pete. He is Mudpoo’s best friend and is one of only two talking dogs in the world. If you know of any more, send Mudpoo a message! (www.mudpoo.com.au)
CAPTAIN PETE loves making yummy jam, cooking damper (with billy tea) on an open fire, playing the guitar under a starry sky at night and eating Pavlova. He is often inventing things, but just between you and me, he gets a little muddled at times. When he’s not on an adventurous journey, he loves staying at home, relaxing and reading the Sunday paper in Gus; the Kombi van.
GUS is a VW Kombi van; just like a little house on wheels. He loves going on adventurous journeys. Shhh . . . Gus has been known to talk. He’s happiest when he’s helping Mudpoo, Harry and Captain Pete.
LIZ is an old friend who loves campfires, eating Pavlova and going on adventures. She is a passionate fiddle player and a good friend of Mudpoo, Harry and Captain Pete.
SAMMY is an incredibly clever silver gull who can speak almost every animal and human language. He comes from the Iluka World Heritage Nature Reserve and is an old friend of Mudpoo and Harry.
HOOTY is a brave little boobook owl who lives in the hollow of a tree near Captain Pete’s house.
SNOT, GROT, BONES and PONG are horrible pirates who once sailed the Antarctic Ocean, but after a terrible fright, set up a flower shop in Northern Queensland instead. They think they’re terribly clever and will stop at nothing to get rich quickly!
FUNGUS McPHEE is . . . err . . . well . . . oh . . . be careful . . . I’ll let you read the story for yourself and discover who he is!
on the edge of an old gum tree forest high in the hills of Bethanga, an obnoxious, musty smell floated on the afternoon breeze. It wafted thickly in the air around one old bushman named Fungus McPhee! The campfire smouldered eerily and Fungus McPhee was deep in thought.
“Bah, hmmrff, phooey,” muttered Fungus before he spat loudly into the ashes.
“This old hidden gold mine is perfect, I’m gonna be rich, rich, RICH,” he declared loudly to himself and he chuckled and spat horribly as he thought how clever he was.
Indeed, the old hidden gold mine had been abandoned for years and very few people had noticed that Fungus McPhee had made it his home. Even fewer people had any idea who he was, or what he was doing there. Fungus liked it that way. He had a secret plan and he thought the less people who knew about it, the better.
“Bah, people think the gold is all gone, let ‘em think what they like, I’m gonna make my fortune soon enough!” grumbled Fungus McPhee under his breath.
Years of living in the bush alone meant that Fungus McPhee often muttered to himself and answered his own questions with his own even more clever answers. That’s just how he liked it.
“You’ll show ‘em Fungus, mad as a cut snake they say, you’ll show ‘em all. They wouldn’t laugh if they knew my clever secret plan!” he chewed the end of his pipe and spat loudly.
The animals near the mine were very wary of Fungus McPhee. The rabbits and the wombats scurried away quickly if they accidently stumbled into his camp. The birds too, were afraid of him; even the wedge-tailed eagles which nested in the hills, high above his camp, were extremely cautious of him.
Fungus McPhee wore a distinguished old, grey, tattered hat that had a sulphur-crested cockatoo feather and a freshly picked wild flower carefully tucked into the band. He had a hairy, bent nose, rotten, crooked teeth and a ragged beard with a peculiar green tinge growing around the edges. Some say that it was green fungi; others say it was stale, leftover food. Fungus McPhee couldn’t care less. He didn’t have a mirror; it’d only break out here in the bush and he didn’t need seven years of bad luck, especially just when his luck was about to change.
His camp included his patched canvas tent, a campfire, a good supply of firewood and food supplies (mostly tinned beans and jam). It was hidden high in the rolling hills where no-one ever visited him. Everyone had simply forgotten about the old Bethanga gold mine.
Fungus was a kind of inventor and muttered to himself, “I’m Fungus McPhe
e and I’m smart, I can do anything, just ask me!”
He was proud he had built his own ‘Fungus’ inventions that he’d carefully hidden around his camp. No-one but Fungus McPhee knew what they were used for.
A very large lock and an old chunky chain protected the two solid doors that guarded the entrance to his precious gold mine. He wasn’t taking any chances. No-one was going to discover his secret; not yet anyhow, not until he’d made his fortune. He puffed on his Blue Gum pipe, the stench from his rabbit dung tobacco wafted over him, keeping the blow flies away.
‘I’ve more work to do tonight and it won’t be too long before I put my plan into action,’ thought Fungus McPhee as he carefully whittled his walking stick with his sharp, dangerous knife. All around his camp he had carefully arranged everything so that you wouldn’t know he was there unless you were one of the wedge-tailed eagles, or little eagles, who often soared above nearby.
Fungus McPhee would curse them if they flew too close to his camp.
“Rotten, useless birds! Come near me and you’ll get the taste of my knife!” he’d angrily call, waving his bony arms about.
The eagles knew to keep a safe distance from the camp. They had an uneasy feeling that their cantankerous neighbour was up to no good.
“Bah, hrmmff, phooey,” muttered Fungus McPhee as he plucked some purple Paterson’s curse from a nearby plant and carefully tucked it into the band of his hat.
“I’m expecting visitors soon,” he grizzled under his breath.
‘My secret plan is so clever, I even surprise myself,’ he thought, looking rather pleased.
Suddenly he sprang to his feet; “It’s time to work!” declared Fungus McPhee as he fumbled in the pocket of his patched canvas trousers for the rusty old key to his GOLD mine.
The gate creaked and groaned as Fungus McPhee opened the mine. When he entered, his own foul odour was so strong it even overpowered the mine’s deep musty smells.
The sun sank beneath the beautiful Bethanga hills, casting shadows over the distant town. A lonely boobook owl hooted as everyone settled in for the night; all except Fungus McPhee, whose dastardly work was about to begin!
Mudpoo, Harry, Captain Pete and Gus live on a small farm in Bethanga. Their property is a mish-mash of long grass and broken down old deer fences, with views of the valley below. Gus, the Kombi van, was resting and looking rather forlorn, with grass sprouting up through his tyres. Every afternoon Captain Pete would rest in Gus’ front seat, with his feet up, reading the paper and not drive anywhere. Things were happening lazily in Bethanga, except for one thing!
Mudpoo and Harry were quietly sitting on a log on their favourite hill one evening, admiring the sunset, when Harry looked puzzled.
“Is that paddock moving, or is it my imagination?” asked a wide-eyed Harry.
“Moving . . . ?” replied Mudpoo, with his mouth agape.
“Is that paddock moving, or is it my imagination?” asked a wide-eyed Harry.
“Moving . . . ?” replied Mudpoo, with his mouth agape.
They strained their eyes and looked carefully.
“Rabbits, dozens of rabbits, there goes another one!” cried Mudpoo.
“And another and another and another,” said Harry trying to keep up.
“I’ve never seen so many; I guess we’ve had so much rain and hot weather it’s brought them all out?” gasped Mudpoo.
“We should tell Captain Pete. I wonder if he knows what to do?” asked Harry.
“They weren’t here yesterday, I’m sure. If we don’t do anything they’ll eat all of our grass and native flowers,” declared Mudpoo.
They both ran down to the house to see Captain Pete, who was busy fumbling and bustling about in his shed.
“Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully, “hundreds of rabbits hey?” he scratched his beard, “Yes I thought I’d seen a few more about than usual.”
“What do we do about them?” asked Mudpoo and Harry together.
“Hmmm . . . it’s a mystery,” said Captain Pete, again looking even more thoughtful. Mudpoo and Harry peered up at Captain Pete looking hopefully for an answer.
“That’s it, I’ve got it!” yelled Captain Pete excitedly, “It’s easy.”
“What’s easy?” replied Mudpoo and Harry together.
“We need to invent something to catch the rabbits and move them on to somewhere else where they won’t eat our plants. I’ll start on it straight away!”
Captain Pete started to draw some interesting diagrams on a scrap piece of paper. Harry and Mudpoo looked on. They liked rabbits, but there were way too many and something had to be done.
“Pulleys and wheels, some ropes and poles and we’ll need lots of carrots, yes I’d say that ought to do it!” exclaimed an excited Captain Pete.
“I’ve got all the things I need right here, except the carrots. The two of you can go down to the Bethanga General Store and get me as many carrots as you can. Take the wheelbarrow and fill it up, that ought to be enough.”
Captain Pete was so busy hammering and cutting, he didn’t notice Mudpoo and Harry leave.
The Bethanga General Store was just down the road and it was one of those old shops that sold a bit of everything; they had hula-hoops and colourful bubblegum, mouse traps and ice creams, newspapers and chocolate . . . Mudpoo knew he’d probably find all the carrots that Captain Pete needed.
“That’s rather a lot of carrots,” said Richard, the puzzled store keeper.
“It’s for the rabbits,” replied Mudpoo and Harry together.
“Captain Pete is building a giant rabbit trap,” boasted Mudpoo, proudly.
“Shooting is the best thing for rabbits,” said an old farmer who was in the store, picking up supplies and listening to their conversation. “Bang, dead, gone!” he declared with a grin.
“Or poison; some people poison rabbits, but they die rather slowly,” another person in the shop said, sadly.
Mudpoo and Harry shuddered and thanked the store keeper for the carrots.
“You know,” said the farmer thoughtfully, “rabbits are not native to Australia; they kill our native plant species, cause soil erosion and drive native animals out of their homes. Rabbits destroy the environment!”
“Did you know,” he continued, “in 1859, 24 European rabbits were released in Australia and only 67 years later, there were about 10 billion of them? Rabbits can give birth to up to five litters each year. I once heard a saying; ‘three rabbits, three years, three million rabbits!’”
The old farmer frowned grimly. “Anyone who can solve Australia’s European rabbit problem would be declared an Aussie hero.”
“Gosh,” said Mudpoo, “we’d better get home quickly, before they take over our entire farm.”
“How did he get time to count them?” shrugged Harry as they hurried home with a wheelbarrow-full of carrots.
“I hope Captain Pete’s invention works, or we’ll soon have rabbits living in the house with us!” gasped Mudpoo. Harry looked very concerned.
Captain Pete had been extremely busy. He’d attached a number of pulley wheels to some posts and was in the corner of the bottom paddock setting something up when Mudpoo and Harry arrived with the carrots.
“How does it work?” enquired Mudpoo and Harry.
“It’s very scientific, it’s all based on pulleys and ropes,” explained Captain Pete.
“I picked this spot because this is where the most rabbits usually are. If we place a huge pile of carrots here and hang the cage I made in this old tree, we can wait for them and . . . when they’re all here . . . catch them!”
It seemed like a great idea. Captain Pete had set up a piece of old corrugated iron for everyone to hide behind. His plan was simple; when dozens of rabbits began eating the carrots, he’d let go of the rope and the rabbits would be trapped.
Mudpoo, Harry and Captain Pete all hid behind the corrugated iron and waited and waited and waited. No rabbits appeared, ‘How do they know that the hundreds of carrots placed
here for them is a trap?’ thought Captain Pete.
“They must be hungry,” whispered Harry, “I am.”
“So am I,” whispered Mudpoo and the two of them snuck back to the house for some food.
At first, Captain Pete was excited, but as time went by his arms got tired and he felt very dozy, sitting and waiting in the hot sun. When Mudpoo and Harry got back, they saw an incredible sight. There were hundreds of rabbits munching on carrots. Captain Pete had fallen asleep and the rope to the cage was stuck on something. It couldn’t drop. The rabbits had feasted on most of the carrots and Captain Pete hadn’t caught a single one. “Never mind,” Mudpoo whispered to Captain Pete, “you did your best.”
Captain Pete woke up and looked a little disappointed, but then he had another idea and leapt to his feet.
“Eagles! Eagles! They can scare rabbits! We need an environmentally friendly solution!” he exclaimed, as he waved his arms in the air.
“How can eagles stop rabbits?” enquired Mudpoo.
“We have two types of eagles living near us, the little eagle and the wedge-tailed eagle. They eat rabbits for their tea; maybe we can train them to scare the rabbits away?”
“How is that possible?” questioned Mudpoo, puzzled.
“It’s not exactly possible . . . not that I know of,” stated Captain Pete, “but it’s an idea and from even the craziest ideas you might get good ideas!”
“What about boobook owls?” inquired Harry, “Do they scare rabbits?”
“Yes,” said Mudpoo, “there’s a little boobook owl we hear hooting every night; can he scare rabbits?”
“Boobook owls eat mice and bats and insects and we’ve got lots of them around here,” said Captain Pete, “I suppose any kind of owl might scare a rabbit away, but I don’t know how I can persuade them to help us. I guess I just need to work out a new invention.”