‘So, what happened?’ I whispered.
Harry put down his hot chocolate. ‘I went to the burrow like we planned,’ he began. ‘But then I heard a kind of barking noise and it sounded like Fatticake was hurt. So, instead of waiting for you, I crawled down to take a look.’
Aunt Evie cleared her throat.
‘I know. It was a stupid thing to do,’ Harry agreed. ‘Mum has always warned me not to climb down wombat burrows. Just …’
Aunt Evie glanced at Harry’s bump. ‘You could have died, Harry,’ she said. ‘You’re lucky we found you when we did.’
Harry looked solemn. ‘I know. I am lucky. I know it was stupid. But I was so worried about Fatticake. I couldn’t see him at first, so I wriggled down further, taking a bend in the tunnel. And then …’
‘What?’ I asked.
‘Well, I don’t think he knew who I was. He growled and snarled at me, and then, the next thing I knew, he was burling towards me, hissing and grunting like a pig.’
‘Oh no!’
‘He headbutted me, and that’s all I remember. Until I heard the tractor roaring and you shouting.’
‘He must have knocked you out cold,’ suggested Aunt Evie. ‘Or you blacked out from the pain.’
‘Shh, here comes your mum,’ I warned.
Mrs Campbell took a long sip of her tea when she sat back down. ‘Talk about daylight robbery,’ she murmured, reaching for another biscuit. ‘Charging that much for hay? You’d think the stuff was gold.’
Aunt Evie tutted sympathetically. We sat for a moment, crunching our biscuits and sipping our drinks, waiting for Mrs Campbell to tell us when Aunt Evie had to move out. I stared into my hot chocolate. What was Aunt Evie going to do? Where would the wombats go?
By the time we’d finished our drinks, I could hear Miss Pearl scratching around the bedroom and I decided I couldn’t wait anymore.
‘You wanted to talk to us?’ I reminded Mrs Campbell, dipping my head in preparation for the berating that was sure to come.
But Mrs Campbell’s voice was surprisingly gentle. ‘Yes, nearly losing Harry has given me quite a fright. We have had a long chat since last night,’ she said, ‘and I’ve decided I’m prepared to hear out your ideas. If you’d like to explain how I’d go about “catering” for wombats, as you put it, I’d like to show my son I’m willing listen.’
I sat up straight. Had I heard Mrs Campbell correctly?
I looked at Harry to double check.
‘Last night in hospital, I told Mum about the skulls,’ he said, as if that explained everything. ‘I said maybe we could think of a way to help her pay for the changes.’
‘Oh, okay. Um … just hang on, I won’t be a sec.’ I ran to my bedroom and grabbed my scrapbook. Dusting off the cover, I took a deep breath. ‘It’s now or never,’ I murmured.
Back in the kitchen, I placed my wombat-ology book in front of Mrs Campbell. ‘It’s all in here,’ I said. ‘You can take it if you like. To have a better look at home.’
But instead of rushing off, Mrs Campbell pushed her teacup aside and opened up my book. She carefully looked through each page, running her finger along the words and taking time with the pictures. I watched, my shoulders tight, as she read about how wombat gates and fenced-off burrows could help farmers live with wombats.
I glanced around the table, my pulse whooshing in my ears. Aunt Evie gave me a sneaky thumbs up while Harry’s eyes danced with hope.
‘Mmm, interesting,’ Mrs Campbell said when she’d finally finished. ‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble, here, but I can’t afford to do these things on my own. I imagine it’ll cost me at least a thousand dollars.’
My cheeks flushed. That was a lot of money.
‘But, if, as Harry suggests, you can find a way to pay for the changes – then I might consider them. What say I give you … two weeks to come up with the money? If you can do it, then Fatticake’s burrow will be the first on my list to fence off.’
I gulped. Two weeks? How would we raise a thousand dollars in two weeks?
‘It’s okay, Mouse,’ said Harry. ‘We can do it. We’re the Wombat Warriors, remember?’
I gave him a small nod before turning to Aunt Evie. ‘And what about the cottage?’ I asked. ‘Does Aunt Evie really have to move out?’
Mrs Campbell frowned at Aunt Evie before adjusting her glasses. ‘Well, I do really need the rent, and I was amazed you would even rent this place when it was in such a bad state.’
Aunt Evie studied Mrs Campbell, her lips pressed tight like she was holding her breath.
‘Look, I’ll allow you to stay. But no more animals inside. And you will have to repair the damage.’
‘Thank you,’ mumbled Aunt Evie.
If Mrs Campbell wasn’t so prickly, I might have whooped and given her a hug. Instead, I high-fived Harry on his good hand and offered everyone another biscuit.
Mum and Dad would never believe what I’d done! My cheeks ached from my massive grin. But the corners of my mouth soon dropped.
A thousand dollars was an impossible amount to raise in only two weeks. Plus, even if Aunt Evie decided to stay, where would Miss Pearl and Willow go? Fatticake had returned to the wild, but Willow was too small and Miss Pearl too tame. And Pumpkin – who would take on a duck like him?
I hadn’t really done anything great at all.
‘Let’s see yours,’ said Dakota, grabbing my wombat-ology scrapbook as soon as I sat down. It was Friday, and since our projects were due at the end of the day, Mr Wilco was giving us an hour to work on them instead of playing Red Rover.
‘It’s not finished yet,’ I said, trying to pull it back. I still had to fix the title page and my sketch of Pumpkin.
Dakota turned the pages. ‘Did you draw these?’ she asked. There was a sketch of Miss Pearl frolicking in the yard, another of Willow sleeping by the pot-belly stove and one of Fatticake, his fur all stuck up.
I nodded.
‘Wow! My mum would love these. Can you do one for her?’
I grimaced. Dakota’s mum would think my sketches were childish, wouldn’t she?
‘I’ll pay you for it.’
‘No, it’s okay.’
‘Would you take twenty dollars?’
Mr Wilco raised his head from the tests he was marking. ‘Shh,’ he warned.
I felt my face flush as I dipped my head to reach for my scrapbook, but Dakota was like a puppy with a chew toy, not keen to give it up. She pored over the pictures I’d pasted in – fenced-off burrows, wombat gates, and re-vegetation ideas for eroded creeks.
‘Hey, that’s neat.’ She turned my book around. ‘Are those your initials, upside down?’
I’d forgotten about my doodled logos for Wildlife Warriors. The WW did look like two Ms upside down.
‘You know? Mouse Matheson?’ asked Dakota.
‘They’re not my initials,’ I said, taking my scrapbook back.
‘So, what then?’
‘WW stands for the Wombat Warriors. Not that it matters anymore.’
Dakota’s eyes sparkled. ‘Wombat Warriors? That’s cool! Who are the Wombat Warriors?’
‘Were. Who were the Wombat Warriors.’ I sighed. ‘Just some people who thought they could make a difference.’ I picked at the binding of my book. ‘But they didn’t. They failed.’
Dakota pointed to my project. ‘Failed? But what about this?’ she insisted. ‘Have you seen your scrapbook? You’ll get an A for sure if you keep going. Don’t give up now!’
Mr Wilco looked up again. ‘Girls!’
Dakota turned back to her planet-ology scrapbook, while I quietly checked through mine.
Dakota was right.
I couldn’t give up.
Not now.
Not ever.
‘Earth to Mouse!’
‘Huh?’
I pulled the note into my lap.
I glanced over at Harry, who was making square shapes with his fingers. Suddenly I clicked. Twenty dollars could go towards the wombat gates and fences.
‘Done,’ I said, turning to Dakota. ‘Make it twenty-five dollars, and the sketch is yours.’
‘What do you mean “no”?’
Mum and Dad were peering anxiously at me through the laptop screen.
I hadn’t meant to say ‘no’ out loud. But when they told me they were coming home early, two weeks early to be precise, it just kind of blurted out.
‘Well, what I mean is … um … I won’t be ready to go home.’ That would mean leaving Miss Pearl and Willow and Pumpkin before we’d had a chance to find them a new place to live.
‘Aunt Evie tells me you’ve been quite the adventurer,’ said Dad. ‘What’s all this about wombat holes?’
I explained about Harry and his rescue from Fatticake’s burrow, and then told them how I’d shown Mrs Campbell my scrapbook, and she’d agreed to ‘consider’ the changes, as long as we came up with the money.
When I’d finished, Mum smiled. ‘So, what are you going to do to raise all this money?’ she asked.
I decided to test out Harry’s idea. ‘Someone suggested I sell my artwork,’ I said.
Mum nodded enthusiastically. ‘Great idea. I’ll buy a sketch or two. What’s your price? A hundred dollars for two? Nanna’s neighbours have been so lovely helping us out, I’m sure they’d love an original artwork. Which one’s your favourite?’
I thought about all the sketches in my scrapbook. There were at least twenty good ones, and, at Mum’s prices, I’d easily make a thousand dollars. Besides, I could always draw more.
Maybe the Wombat Warriors could do it after all?
‘We’re charging everyone a gold coin donation for entry and then a dollar if they want to play the games,’ I told Aunt Evie a week later as we sat on the front steps. Miss Pearl was enjoying a frolic in the crisp morning air, while I had Willow cradled in my arms. ‘Do you think that’ll be okay?’
The recent storm had brought a welcome flush of green to the cottage yard and the air was a flurry of chirping birds and buzzing insects. The perfect day for our school fundraiser.
Aunt Evie took a sip of her tea. I’d worn my pink-corduroy daisy dress and leggings, while she’d chosen her favourite red pants, hoop earrings and a red-checked scarf. She’d even worn her best socks with her sandals. ‘Sounds like a plan!’ she said.
I smiled. With his arm still in a sling, Harry would be spewing that he couldn’t play Red Rover, but I was sure he wouldn’t be fussed about missing out on the Spelling Bee.
‘Is Mrs Campbell bringing her sticky date cake?’ Aunt Evie asked, glancing over to Pumpkin, who was pushing Miss Pearl’s tin food plate around the yard.
Aunt Evie and I had made five ginger cakes and three batches of Anzacs to sell, and other students were also bringing along baked goods.
I nodded. All I needed to do was set up the sports hall to display my artwork, and Harry had to place all the cones for Red Rover. Then the Wombat Warrior fundraiser would be ready.
I could hardly believe it. We’d prepared it all in just over a week. If all went according to plan, we’d be early with the money for Mrs Campbell. I’d managed to draw twenty more sketches: ten of Miss Pearl, Fatticake and Willow, two of the Campbell’s collie dogs, three of Harry’s chickens, two of Pumpkin, and three of the lambs. Now I had to sell them.
Aunt Evie put down her cup to scratch Miss Pearl’s back as she rubbed up beside us. After hours of phone calls and discussions, Aunt Evie and her menagerie had finally found a new home. With plenty of land and an obsession with wombats, Dakota’s mum had offered Aunt Evie their one-bedroom granny flat. It was tiny, but its large fenced-off garden was perfect for Aunt Evie’s wombats and Pumpkin, too. It was a great solution, although I was secretly hoping that Mrs Campbell would change her mind and let them stay.
‘Any more pre-fundraiser art sales?’ Aunt Evie asked.
Mum and Dad had ordered three sketches and Dakota’s mum two. That was $185 already. Suddenly my artwork had become the most important thing I owned. ‘Well, I’m hoping Mrs Campbell likes the one of Harry,’ I said. ‘If she does, maybe I could charge her double?’
Aunt Evie tipped her head, her eyes twinkling. ‘I’m proud of you, Mouse. You really are proof of the saying “If life deals you lemons, make—”’
‘Lemonade,’ I blurted.
She smiled. ‘Yes, lemonade. Oh, watch out, here comes trouble.’
Pumpkin had finally abandoned the food plate and waddled over, pecking and quacking as he came. I reached out to pat his silky feathers as he plonked himself by my feet. I thought about what Aunt Evie had said. I was proud of me, too. I’d hardly said a word when I’d first arrived at Aunt Evie’s cottage, and now here I was, organising fundraisers and re-housing the local wildlife. Mum and Dad would hardly believe it when they came to pick me up.
‘Here they are!’ said Aunt Evie as Harry and Mrs Campbell pulled up in the ute. ‘We’ll go as soon as we’ve said a quick hello.’
‘Ready?’ said Harry, joining us at the steps, his eyes sparkling.
‘Yep! Ready! Here, this one’s for you,’ I said, passing him one of my sketches.
Harry’s eyebrows rose, and I held my breath as he looked at the picture. I’d drawn it especially for him: a portrait of his favourite wombat. Fatticake’s big flat nose, his brown eyes and his cheeky ears lit up the page. My heart swelled as Harry beamed.
‘Mouse is selling them,’ Harry explained to his mum, who was peering over his shoulder, ‘to help raise the money for the wombats.’
I exchanged looks with Aunt Evie as Mrs Campbell clucked her tongue.
‘And I suppose this one’s the most expensive?’ snapped Mrs Campbell.
I shook my head. ‘No. This one’s a gift,’ I said. ‘For Harry.’
Mrs Campbell narrowed her eyes.
‘I wouldn’t look this gift horse in the chin,’ said Aunt Evie. ‘When Mouse is a famous artist, that sketch will be worth a fortune.’
Mrs Campbell’s lips twitched, like she might even smile, and tiny dimples appeared in her cheeks. ‘Just as well,’ she muttered. ‘We’re going to need a fortune to run this ridiculous wombat hotel.’
I grabbed my sketches and grinned as Harry and I said goodbye to Mrs Campbell and climbed into Aunt Evie’s car.
‘Wombat Warriors, here we come.’
Thanks to Mouse’s amazing wombat-ology project, I now know so much more about our beloved southern hairy-nosed wombats. If, like me, you’re interested in learning more, take a peek at the research Mouse did for her scrapbook. Thanks for sharing, Mouse!
Many people believe that southern hairy-nosed wombats are shy creatures, who sleep all day in their burrows, only appearing, briefly, at night. The truth is they are much more complicated, but because they can so easily escape into their burrows, they are very difficult animals to observe. Most Australian’s have never seen a wild wombat.
Luckily for us, many researchers and dedicated wildlife carers have studied wombats and have discovered interesting facts about them.
Some facts about the southern hairy-nosed wombat
•They are Australian marsupials and can grow up to 1.3 metres long and weigh up to 36 kilograms. They eat native grasses such as wallaby kangaroo grass, as well as sedges and the roots of shrubs and trees. The southern hairy-nosed wombat is commonly found in South Australia.
•They live in burrows, but because it takes so much energy to dig a new one, they prefer to use ones that already exist. Scientists estimate that digging a ten-metre tunnel takes the same amount of energy as walking
120 kilometres. The largest wombat tunnel ever measured was 100 metres long and probably many centuries old.
•They need good rain before they have babies to ensure the survival of their young. Even then, they only have one baby every two to three years. The baby crawls into the mother’s pouch at birth (weighing only one gram) and stays there for up to ten months. Orphaned babies do better when raised with another wombat for company.
•The southern hairy-nosed wombat is very flexible and can perform a barrel roll with a twist, allowing them to flip 180 degrees in their burrow. They can also lay themselves so flat that they can slip through cracks less than ten centimetres high.
•They can run 100 metres in less than ten seconds and can reach speeds of 40 kilometres per hour over a short distance.
•They are great swimmers.
•They have pouches that face backwards.
•They can live up to 30 years.
Wombats are threatened by:
•Habitat loss from farming, development and land clearing.
•Disease: one of the main diseases wombats suffer from is sarcoptic mange, a parasitic mite that digs into the wombat’s skin. It is spread by foxes and other wombats.
•Motor vehicles on our roads.
•Farmers and landholders who often view wombat burrows as a threat to farm animals and machinery. They consider wombat destruction of fences to be very costly. Farmers have been allowed to ‘destroy’ wombats over the years, with cyanide, shooting and less-humane methods. In some states the wombat is now protected, but permits to destroy them are still obtainable in Tasmania and South Australia.
Living with wombats is easy if:
•Burrows are left alone. Destruction of long-standing burrows may lead to wombats digging more.
•Fences are fitted with inexpensive and easy-to-install wombat gates in areas where wombats regularly walk.
•Overgrazed areas are planted with native grasses to prevent further erosion.
•Livestock is prevented from wandering around and falling into burrows. Electric fences and tape helps to keep livestock out.
Wombat Warriors Page 11