Blinky Bill

by Dorothy Wall

  “Well, they must have been the smelly kind, ‘cause you do smell of ants,” Blinky answered sharply.

  “Look at my house, and don’t be so grumpy. Isn’t it a beautiful place?” And Spikey raised all his quills with pride.

  Blinky bent down to peep inside, just as Spikey raised his quills, and gave a loud cry of pain.

  “Oh, that’s my nose!” he screamed. “Can’t you see I’ve got a nose?”

  “No one could miss it for one minute,” Spikey said, very annoyed. “It’s nearly your whole face.”

  Blinky felt very angry and raised his paw to hit Spikey; but the quills bristled more than before.

  “Can’t you put those things down?” he asked in a very rude manner.

  “Yes, when you ask me nicely I will.” Spikey replied.

  “Oh, well, please put those things away,” Blinky said. But he still felt very annoyed. His nose was actually bleeding where the spike had pierced it.

  “Use your handkerchief,” Spikey advised.

  Blinky grabbed the torn leg of his knickerbockers and wiped his poor little nose,

  “Now come inside and rest,” said Spikey as he flattened all his bristles.

  “You look very nice now,” Blinky remarked as he crawled inside the house.

  “Isn’t it cosy!” Spikey said proudly, as he curled himself up in a ball.

  “Yes, it’s very pretty and warm,” Blinky replied as he looked around.

  The house was just a snug hole under the bracken fern. A few twigs and dried grass helped to make it cosy, and no one could believe that a little home was hidden away under the ferns so safely.

  The sun made everything warm, and a drowsy little bear fell asleep, in a nest not meant for koalas.

  CHAPTER 10

  The Lyre-birds’ Home

  t’s time to get up!”

  Blinky rubbed his eyes. Where was he? Oh, yes, of course. There was Spikey standing a few feet away eyeing him very seriously.

  “Don’t you feel hungry?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do. And I’m going to look for some supper,” Blinky replied. “These nests are all very well for folk like you, but I like my own home best. I’ve only to wake up and climb a few branches and my supper is all there.”

  “Well, I’m going ant-hunting now, so I’ll bid you good night,” and Spikey raised all his quills and proceeded to walk away.

  “Hey! Wait a moment,” Blinky called. “I want you to show me the way home.”

  “I’m going the other way,” Spikey answered.

  “Which way?” Blinky inquired.

  “Down by the Lyre-birds’ home,” Spikey replied.

  “Could I come, too?” Blinky asked in his most polite tone.

  “s’pose you can,” Spikey replied. It was certainly not a very pressing invitation, but Blinky was a bear who poked himself everywhere, whether welcome or not. He was out to see the world, and if he waited for invitations — well, he’d see very little.

  “Follow me. But don’t start any capers, because I feel rather bilious tonight,” Spikey said in an irritable way. “I think I’ll have to give up eating sugar ants. This is the second time they’ve upset me lately, and my head’s splitting.”

  “I’m very sorry,” Blinky answered. “Is there anything I can do for you? Mrs Grunty always has bad headaches, specially when she’s been extra nasty.”

  “What does she do for them?” Spikey inquired as he slowly crawled along, dragging one leg after the other in a very painful manner.

  “Oh, she just wants us all to fuss around her, and pretend we’re awfully sorry. But I’m terribly glad and wish she’d have two headaches all at once,” Blinky retorted.

  “You’re not very kind,” Spikey mumbled.

  “Well, you shouldn’t eat ants. It’s a wonder you don’t get tummy ache, too!” said naughty Blinky. “But I s’pose it couldn’t get in your tummy through all those spikes.”

  “That’s enough!” Spikey roared in anger, and his quills stood straight up and quivered with rage.

  “Dear me, I’m sorry,” said Blinky, quite frightened. “But those spikes sticking out of you from everywhere, must be the cause of your headaches. What if someone stroked you the wrong way?”

  “Follow me and don’t start any capers, because I feel rather bilious tonight,” Spikey said in an irritable way.

  “Hump!” growled Spikey. “They’d better not try.”

  “Is it very far away to the Lyre-birds’ home?” Blinky asked.

  “No,” his friend replied. “I don’t travel far from my home, just keep on behind me and you’ll be surprised how soon we’ll be there.”

  The little animals pattered along, brushing the ferns and grass aside as they went. The moon showed the way, shining through the trees and only the soft pad, pad of Blinky could be heard.

  Suddenly quite close at hand a kookaburra laughed.

  “Jacko’s very merry tonight!” Blinky remarked.

  “That’s not Jacko,” Spikey replied. “That’s Mrs Lyrebird. She’s so clever at mimicking all the bush birds that sometimes she deceives me for a minute.”

  “She must be clever,” Blinky replied. “I could bet that was Jacko laughing.”

  “She’s mighty clever,” Spikey replied. “I’ve heard her mimic the butcher-birds so that you couldn’t tell the difference; and she simply loves to call like the magpie and old Mr Owl. There isn’t a noise in the bush that she can’t imitate. Why! One night when I was prowling round, looking for a few ants I got a terrible fright. I felt sure Mr Smifkins’s dog was chasing me. The yelping and barking drew closer and closer as I neared the Lyre-birds’ home, and I hurried along, to see if they would shelter me. Imagine my surprise when I found Mrs Lyre-bird imitating the Smifkinses’ dog. I was very annoyed at first, as I was all out of breath, and hot, and my bristles were cold with fright. But it was a relief all the same to find I had been mistaken.”

  “Did you tell Mrs Lyre-bird how she had frightened you?” Blinky asked sympathetically.

  “Yes, and she only laughed. She said she’d frightened many bush folk that way; and just to show me how really clever she was she made a noise like Mr Smifkins chopping wood. Then, seeing me more surprised, she pretended to strike matches. I had to laugh. It sounded so funny.”

  “Listen! What’s that?” Blinky stopped still, and listened very closely.

  “That’s a train coming up the hill,” Spikey replied.

  “There are no trains here,” Blinky answered.

  “Chuff, chuff, chuff, chuff,” came the noise again.

  “Well, they must have put a train here in the night,” Spikey laughed, as they trotted along.

  Nearer and nearer came the chuff, chuff until Blinky became quite frightened. He’d never seen or heard a train in his life and he wondered if it would eat him. He grew quite pale, and held on to his knickerbockers very tightly.

  “Ha, ha!” laughed Spikey. “She’s tricked you, too!”

  “Is that Mrs Lyre-bird?” Blinky was astounded. But before he could make any further remark, he saw with his own eyes that Spikey was right.

  At the feet of some tall trees a wonderful sight was seen. Just close your eyes for a minute and try to imagine you’re in Blinky’s place.

  Great gum-trees standing erect, with the moon peeping through the leaves, out of a blue, blue sky. The grass and bracken a soft brown, fading away to grey, and right in front of you, only a few yards distant four grownup lyre-birds and six little ones,

  A dancing lesson was in progress and the ground was cleared for a little space, to give the dancers room to perform. That is what Blinky saw, as he gazed at the enchanting scene.

  “Shh!” whispered Spikey. “Keep very quiet, and you’ll see wonderful things.”

  The mothers and fathers were dancing in the daintiest way, stepping ever so lightly, and then running backwards and forwards, pirouetting, bowing, and hopping, while the little ones looked on, watching every movement, and occasionally giving a lit
tle squeak of delight.

  “Come, children,” called Mrs Lyre-bird. “It is time you learned to dance.”

  The little ones twittered with delight, as they took their places in the centre of the ring.

  “One, two, three; hop, skip, and a jump,” called one of their mothers, and the children very clumsily tried to imitate their parents.

  They toppled over one another, fell on the ground and squawked with delight when one managed to pirouette for a moment.

  The parents were very patient and showed them over and over again how to perform.

  At last one little chap did a surprisingly clever dance and the mothers and fathers became very excited, as they danced up and down, encouraging the dancer, and calling to him all kinds of nice things. As time went on the children became quite clever and the dancing lesson ended with very happy results.

  The mothers and fathers were dancing in the daintiest way.

  Nearby was the playground. Here a wonderful collection of toys — in the shape of pretty leaves, pebbles, and bright feathers — were spread on the ground. The children and the parents played all kinds of games, until Blinky disturbed their peace and fun by stumbling over a stone.

  “Hey! It’s only me,” he called as the birds ran for safety. But all his pleadings and promises to be friendly were useless. Being very timid, they vanished into the bushes and had no intention of coming out again.

  “They’re very scared!” Blinky remarked, as he turned to Spikey. But Spikey had vanished too.

  “Gosh! The place must be haunted,” Blinky muttered to himself, as he nervously glanced around. “A fellow’s all by himself.”

  “Well, I’ll go home,” he decided. And he suddenly thought what a long time it was since he had left his mother and Mrs Grunty.

  He looked at his bockers, and tried to pat them, or what remained of them, into shape. They were just hanging by threads, and a very sorry spectacle he looked.

  “I s’pose old Mother Grunty will say all sorts of things when she sees me,” he growled. “I’m not going to stand it any longer. If she growls very hard at me, I’ll run away again — I’ll get married next time. Then they’ll be sorry, and want me home again.” And Blinky gave a savage kick at the grass.

  “Spikes and scissors! Look where you’re going with your big feet!” a little voice cried.

  “What’s up now?” Blinky said, as he came to a standstill. “As if there’s not enough growling without you starting, too!”

  “Well, look what you’ve done to my web, and I’ve been hours and hours weaving it. Now it’s all spoilt, and I’ll never catch my supper, and I’m starving.”

  “Are you another ant-eater?” Blinky asked rudely.

  “No, I’m not!” snapped the spider, “I eat gnats and mosquitoes.”

  “Gnats! I’ve never heard of them before,” Blinky said. “Do they taste good?”

  “Not as good as you’ll taste if you don’t get your big feet out of my way,” the spider growled as he glared at Blinky.

  “Oh! I see you’ve a red spot on your back, so I think I’ll be going.”

  Blinky very quietly stepped aside and continued on his way. The moon was kind and showed him the pathway quite clearly and he thought by travelling all night he would reach home by daylight. But he had not considered what may be round the corner.

  On he went, one minute feeling very brave as he thought of what he’d do to Mrs Grunty if she grunted, and the next, feeling rather frightened as he imagined her cross face round the gum-tree.

  Pit-a-pat! Pit-a-pat! Someone was coming through the bush, and someone in a great hurry, too.

  “Oh, dear! I’ll be late, I’ll be late,” said a voice that came nearer and nearer.

  “What for?” Blinky called out from behind a tree where he had hidden.

  “For the meeting,” came the reply. “But what’s it got to do with you? Who are you?”

  Blinky cautiously peeped round the tree and there stood Belinda Fox of all people, dressed in her best coat of brown, with a very fine tail.

  “You’re up to mischief, I’ll bet!” Blinky said as he came from his hiding-place.

  “Me!” said Belinda Fox in surprise. “Why, I’ve not tasted a fowl for ages and ages.”

  “Where’s the meeting?” Blinky asked.

  “Down at the flat, under the trees,” Belinda answered. “And I’ll be later than ever if I stop and talk to you.”

  “What’s on at the meeting?” Blinky called as Belinda started to walk away. “Stop a moment and tell me.”

  “It’s those rabbits,” Belinda complained. “They’re holding a meeting — a race-meeting, I mean — and I’m just about tired of their noise. So I’m going to act as umpire, and the very first one I catch, I’ll eat, toes and all.”

  “Good gracious!” Blinky exclaimed. “You’re feeling very annoyed.”

  “Annoyed is no name for it!” Belinda answered sharply. “And what’s more, I’m hungry.”

  “Well, what about some juicy gum-tips? They’re scrumptious!”

  “Huh!” Belinda grumbled. “Gum-tips, indeed! A juicy young rab is what I’m after, So good night to you, Mr Koala, I’m in a hurry.”

  “Yes,” said Blinky to himself, “I’m in a hurry, too. I’ll take a short cut down to the flat and tell the rabbits all about it. Belinda Fox will have no young rab for supper if I can help it.”

  Dashing into the bush he scampered along at a great rate. Down the track, through the saplings, and over the hill, until the flat came in view. There the bunnies were — mothers and fathers and their babies, grandmothers and grandfathers and bunny uncles and aunts. Such a crowd of them! And they scampered backwards and forwards, frightfully excited, their little white tails bobbing about ever so prettily and their long ears twitching with the thought of all the fun.

  “Oh, dear, I hope I’m not too late!” Blinky thought, as he rushed down to the flat.

  A line of baby bunnies were standing in a row, waiting for the signal to start the race.

  “Oh dear, I hope I’m not too late.”

  Mr Grandfather Rabbit stood at the farther end of the flat against a blackberry bush. He waited with one paw raised, ready to wave a “four o’clock” as the signal to start. The young rabs were skylarking and delaying matters considerably, for just as everything seemed ready for the word “Go!” some young scamp rushed away before his time and then the whole line had to wait again until all was ready.

  Blinky dashed across the flat and right into the middle of the spectators. He was breathless.

  “Stop! Stop!” he cried. “Don’t let the babies go!”

  At once there was great excitement. Rabbits scuffled and hopped around him, their eyes popping with curiosity.

  “What’s the matter?” they cried. “What have you come for?”

  “For goodness’ sake don’t let the babies race,” Blinky gasped. “Belinda Fox is coming along, and she’s going to catch the first one and eat him.”

  “Shiver my whiskers!” a father rabbit called out in alarm. “That Belinda Fox is just a bit too smart. She’s been poking her nose round here too much lately.”

  “Well, hurry up and do something,” Blinky cried. “She’ll be here any minute.”

  “Just a moment, dearie,” piped up old Great Granny Rabbit, “I’ve an idea, a splendid idea.”

  “What is it, granny?” all the rabbits asked.

  “I’ve a surprise for Miss Belinda Fox. Just you wait here while I get it. I won’t be a moment,” and she hobbled away to her burrow.

  The rabbits crowded round the entrance waiting to see what great granny’s idea could be.

  “I’ve an idea, a splendid idea, “piped up old great granny rabbit.

  “I suppose it’s one of those stale old turnips she’s been collecting for weeks,” said one bold young rab.

  “Or perhaps an old tuft of grass.” another chimed in.

  The rabbits danced with excitement as they waited and one of them thumped imp
atiently on the door-way with his hind leg.

  “Don’t do that, you silly old pop-eye,” said a big father sternly, “She’ll think it’s the alarm signal and never come out.”

  But great granny rabbit was not a scrap alarmed and presently she appeared tugging and pulling at something almost as big as herself. The others rushed to her assistance and imagine their surprise when they pulled out a dead rabbit, very fat, so fat indeed that he looked as though he’d had twenty suppers.

  “Gee whiskers!” they exclaimed. “Where did you get this old fellow? What’s he for?”

  “Ah ha!” great granny smiled; “he’s very very old; but he’ll make a fine supper for Belinda Fox. I’ve had him longer than any of you young fellows can remember, and I’ve kept him for just such an occasion as this.”

  “He’s very fat!” Blinky said, as he patted him with his paw. “And — oh! he’s prickly!”

  “He’s prickly right enough,” great granny chuckled. “Haven’t I stuffed him with Scotch thistles and nettles? Just you wait and see the surprised look on Belinda’s face when she takes the first bite.”

  “Oh, lovely, lovely! That’s a wonderful supper for Belinda!” said the rabbits, laughing.

  “Give me a hand to push him along!” great granny called.

  She was nearly knocked over in the rush, as all the rabbits scrambled and pushed, and tugged the old thing full of prickles.

  Away down to the flat they rolled it, and over to where the bunny still stood with his paw raised ready to give the signal.

  “Prop him up here!” great granny called as she pointed to the blackberry-bush, “and then Belinda Fox can have a good look at him before she dines.”

  The rabbits all helped, and stood old Prickles up on his hind legs. They placed one of his ears over the back of his head and the other over one eye. Then they stuffed a few blades of grass in his mouth to make him look just as though he were eating his supper. They pushed him a little farther into the blackberry-bush so that he seemed to be peeping out. Then, quite satisfied with all they had done, they scampered back to the starting place. Just as they lined up, ready once more for the race, Miss Belinda Fox strutted into view. Down she came lipperty-lop, lipperty-lop, until she reached the bunnies.