by Pat Clarke
For Marshall, Cooper and Darcy - P.C.
First published in Australia in 2015
by Little Steps Publishing
Suite 3, Level 2, 18 Aquatic Drive
Frenchs Forest NSW 2086
www.littlesteps.com.au
Text copyright © 2015 Pat Clarke
Illustration copyright © 2015 Graeme Compton
This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private
study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part
may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Inquiries should be
addressed to the publishers. All rights reserved.
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Creator: Clarke, Pat, author.
Title: Return of the Fox : Further Adventures of a One-Eyed Chook /
written by Pat Clarke and illustrated by Graeme Compton.
ISBN: 9781925117585 (hardback)
Target Audience: For children.
Subjects: Chickens--Juvenile fiction.
Domestic animals--Juvenile fiction.
Foxes--Juvenile fiction.
Other Creators/Contributors:
Compton, Graeme, illustrator.
Dewey Number: A823.4
Printed in China
Designed by Angel McMullan
Index
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter One
As always, Sheila and her companion, Elvis the wedge-tailed eagle, were awake bright and early. From their cosy nest high up in the tallest of all the ironbark trees, they loved to watch the wondrous spectacle of the sun rising over the forest each morning, lighting up their special piece of heaven and welcoming the new day.
But this morning was different.
At dawn’s early light, Elvis flew off to investigate noises that had awakened them both during the night. He’d thought it best for Sheila to stay behind, safe and sound in their eyrie in the sky.
Now, lying snug and warm in the nest, waiting for his return, Sheila found herself remembering the previous night’s party that was held to celebrate the anniversary of their Great Escape twelve months earlier. What a great night it had been!
Sheila smiled, remembering that fateful day last Christmas when she and her best friends, Zelma and Louise, had run away from MacDougall’s farm and sought refuge in the Goonoo Forest.
Elvis had remained true to the promise he’d made the day he rescued Sheila from the clutches of the wily old fox, Rufus. The wedge-tailed eagle was her faithful companion and a good provider, flying out from their treetop home several times a day to gather tasty morsels for them to eat, and taking Sheila flying whenever she wanted.
Sheila wasn’t the only one whose life had changed so much. It had worked out well for her friends too. Both Zelma and Louise were happily living in the Goonoo Forest with the Malleefowl, and she saw them often.
Louise, once so shy, had completely come out of her shell. At the previous night’s celebrations she was the life of the party, entertaining everyone with her ‘Why did the chicken cross the road’ jokes and encouraging the crowd to join in the chicken dance.
Before long, everyone was up, flapping, clucking and stomping in time to the music provided by The Banjo Frogs and a singing group called The Cicadas.
The highlight of the evening was Elvis performing the ‘Eagle Rock’. It brought the house down!
What a night it had been.
What a year it had been!
Sheila sighed contentedly. Never had she been so happy.
A frown suddenly crossed her face. Why was Elvis taking so long? she wondered. He should have been back by now!
Chapter Two
It was the squealing of tyres and the sound of vehicles roaring through the forest that had awakened Sheila and Elvis that morning, and police sirens had soon confirmed Elvis’s suspicions that it was a car chase!
Stolen cars were often driven deep into the forest, where they were stripped of all valuable items and burned out. Because the risk of a forest fire was very high, Elvis wanted to investigate further. Not wishing to disturb Sheila, he’d urged her to go back to sleep and then flown off in the general direction of the commotion.
Though the noise had since died down, Elvis quickly found what he was looking for. Deep in the forest, to the side of the track, were two vehicles — one, an old ute, the other a fancy-looking sports car.
Two men were busily removing items from the car.
The next step, Elvis knew, would be to set the stolen car alight. He had seen this done many times before.
The surrounding area was littered with all kinds of rubbish and Elvis feared the worst. There had been no rain for several months. The tree trunks and branches were dry and brittle, and crunchy dead leaves covered the ground.
Elvis remembered the terrible forest fire that had killed his family a few years earlier — his wife and three little chicks. He hadn’t been able to save them in time and they had perished, along with a large section of the Goonoo Forest.
He could not let such a tragedy happen again. But what could he do?
Since there were only two men, perhaps he could frighten them off, Elvis thought. They seemed to have finished scavenging and were now sitting on the back tray of the ute, drinking. There was no time to waste. They might light a match at any moment!
If he could frighten them off, they might not bother to set fire to the car. Maybe they’d just grab whatever they could and run away.
Elvis knew his plan wasn’t great but it was the best he could come up with in a hurry. He took a hasty look around and, not seeing any guns or rifles, made a quick decision.
Swooping low, he dived at the nearest target — a bald-headed man who had just removed his hat to shoo away the flies. Elvis sank his powerful talons into the man’s head, making him scream with fright. He fell off the back of the ute, landed headfirst on the ground, and was knocked unconscious.
One man down and one to go!
Elvis circled around, preparing to attack again.
Suddenly there came a shout. ‘Shoot him, Johnno! Kill the rotten wedgey!’
He had no time to make sense of this before a shot rang out.
Bang!
Elvis plummeted to the ground.
The last thing he saw was a man with a shotgun emerging from the bushes. Elvis had made a fatal mistake. There had been three men, not just two!
His last thoughts were of Sheila. What would become of her?
Who would protect her?
And then all he saw was blackness.
The shotgun noise echoing throughout the forest helped pinpoint the whereabouts of the car thieves and within moments a police siren sounded nearby. The men threw their injured buddy into the back of the ute, then jumped into the front and raced away as fast as the rough track would allow.
The chase was on again!
Chapter 3
The fallen eagle lay near the abandoned sports car. An inquisitive magpie watched over him for a while but retreated to the safety of the treetops when she heard someone approaching.
There were two newcomers. One was a woma
n, the other a dingo.
Racing on ahead, the dingo came across the stricken bird. He poked at it with his nose a few times, sniffed, growled softly and gently licked the eagle’s face. Three rapid barks and a long, drawn-out howl drew the attention of his mistress.
‘Hey, Bazza, what’ve you got there, boy?’
The old woman went over to investigate. She was a curious sight, Maggie Magpie thought; small and dark-skinned, with long grey plaits down to her waist. She wore oversized gumboots, an old army coat, and a knitted scarf that hung loosely around her neck. But what most caught Maggie’s eye was the woman’s black cowboy hat decorated with shiny badges and coloured feathers.
‘Well, that accounts for the gunshot we heard,’ said the old lady. Her eyes filled with tears as she bent over and examined the wounded eagle. ‘I think this bird’s too far gone, Bazza, but we’ll take him home and see what can be done. I’ll put him in the pull-along.’
Bazza barked in agreement. With his head cocked to one side, he watched his mistress take the blue-and-yellow scarf from around her neck and wrap it around the injured bird.
The contraption she called a ‘pull-along’ was just an old tricycle with a carry-all at the back. Maggie couldn’t resist a quick fly-over to see what was in it and could hardly believe her eyes.
It was a virtual treasure trove of goodies, loaded up with all kinds of things that people had thrown away. There were out-of-date tins and packets of food, loaves of stale bread, wilted and mouldy fruit and vegetables, items of clothing and all kinds of interesting bits and pieces.
Maggie shook her head in wonder. It never ceased to amaze her how much food humans wasted. Not that she was complaining, mind you. Some of her favourite meals came from rubbish bins and compost heaps!
Amongst all the goodies in the pull-along was an orange woollen jacket with a fur-lined hood, and this is where the old woman now placed the eagle. She whistled for the dingo to follow and began wheeling the laden tricycle over to the track. Suddenly she stopped.
Something had caught her eye.
It was a brown wallet, lying on the ground. She picked it up and examined it closely, turning it over in her hands. It was old and battered and contained nothing of value – just an ID card and several papers. She put the wallet in her pocket, intending to do something about it at a later time, called the dingo once more, and then continued on her way.
Maggie Magpie decided to follow.
Chapter Four
It was only later, when Elvis failed to return, that Sheila remembered hearing the gunshot. She tried not to think about it, but as the hours passed with still no sign of her companion, she realised something must be wrong. Rather than sit there doing nothing, she decided to set off and look for Elvis while it was still daylight.
First of all, she had to get down from the tree. She peered over the edge of the nest. It was a very long way down to the ground!
There was no point in putting it off, so, taking a deep breath and uttering, ‘Here goes!’ she took a giant leap onto the branch below.
She continued in this way, muttering, ‘So far so good,’ each time she landed safely. It was very slow going. Having only one eye made it hard to judge the distances, and her eye-patch kept slipping all the time. She persevered, however, and was about half-way down when she heard her name being called.
Looking down, she saw her friends, Zelma and Louise.
What were they doing here?
Their anxious faces looked up at her from the bottom of the tree.
Sheila’s mind raced. Her heart beat wildly. Did they have bad news?
In a panic and not thinking straight, she stumbled on a loose section of bark, lost her balance and fell.
Head over heels she went, tumbling through the branches and foliage before finally rolling to a stop, bruised and battered, at the feet of her friends.
They rushed to her side. ‘Sheila! Are you okay?’
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Why are you here? Has something happened to Elvis?’
Zelma and Louise exchanged meaningful looks.
‘Just tell me,’ she begged, ‘whatever it is.’
Zelma spoke slowly and carefully, not wanting to alarm her friend. ‘We’ve heard that a bird has been shot … and that it may be Elvis.’
‘It’s only a rumour, of course,’ Louise chimed in, ‘and there’s no proof that he’s been killed …’
‘… he might just be a little bit wounded … that is … if it’s even him, and not some other bird …’ Zelma finished lamely.
Sheila felt faint and her head was spinning.
‘I have to find him,’ she cried. But as she tried to stand, her legs buckled beneath her and she collapsed in a heap. She looked down. Her left leg was sticking out at a very peculiar angle and the right was skinned to the bone and bleeding. Both legs looked in pretty bad shape.
Zelma and Louise gasped in dismay when they saw Sheila’s injuries. One leg was obviously broken and needed medical attention as soon as possible.
What should they do? Who should they call?
Zelma paced around in circles, racking her brain. Although she had never regretted leaving the farm, at times like this she missed the safety and security of the fowl yard.
Finally she had an idea. ‘What about the old woman who lives here in the forest? You know … the one who lives by herself in the old caravan, with only a dingo for company. She came to the farm a couple of times, remember?’
‘Ma Turner?’ asked Louise. ‘The one with all the feathers stuck in her hat?’
‘Yes! That’s her.’
Zelma turned to Sheila. ‘I’m sure you would remember her. She takes care of sick and injured animals and she’s a friend of Mrs MacDougall’s.’
Sheila nodded. ‘I remember her well. She was the one who looked after me the day I lost my eye. She was at the farm buying chickens when it happened. She bathed my eye and put on the eye-patch and was very kind. She’s not crazy, like some people say. She just prefers animals to people, that’s all.’
‘I can’t see anything crazy about that!’ Zelma ruffled her glossy black feathers angrily. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it just goes to show how sensible she really is! Animals don’t go around shooting each other or killing creatures for fun like some humans do!’
On this subject, they all agreed.
All three hens fell silent as they considered the problem they now faced. How on earth would they get Sheila to Ma Turner’s campsite?
‘What if I put my wings around each of your necks?’ Sheila suggested. ‘You might be able to drag me along between you.’
Zelma shook her head. ‘Dragging you isn’t a good idea. Lou is much smaller than both of us and it wouldn’t work. Besides, dragging would most likely cause more damage to your legs.’
Louise was deep in thought. Suddenly her face lit up. ‘I know! What about asking Clancy? He offered to help us anytime we needed it … and he could easily carry Sheila on his back.’
Sheila was puzzled. ‘Who’s Clancy?’
‘He’s a goanna,’ said Zelma.
‘A very nice goanna,’ assured Louise.
Sheila had never heard of Clancy. But she was much too weak to ask any more questions. Her head was swimming and she was having trouble concentrating.
‘How will you find him?’ she managed to ask, just before she fainted.
Chapter Five
Rover the barking owl flew in just as Sheila was recovering from her dizzy spell. While Louise sat with her, Rover took Zelma aside so that the others wouldn’t overhear. He whispered of a rumour going around that Elvis had been shot and killed. But there was no proof so far, and until there was, he would not stop searching for his wedge-tailed friend.
Rover thought using Clancy as an ambulance was a great idea and offered to fetch the goanna and advise him of Sheila’s predicament.
Not long after the owl’s departure, a rustling noise was heard in the undergrowth and Clancy the goanna appeared. There wa
s no time to waste! Zelma and Louise helped Sheila onto the goanna’s back and after checking that she was ready, Clancy raised himself just high enough to clear Sheila’s feet off the ground and then set off.
With one hen jogging along on either side, ready to keep Sheila from slipping off, they made steady progress and were soon at their first stopover, the Malleefowl mound. Waiting for them at the mound were their relatives, Marnie and Marty, who had been told by Rover to expect their arrival.
As it would soon be dark, the three friends were persuaded by Cousin Marnie to stay the night and continue their journey the next morning.
How quickly things can change, thought Sheila, remembering the previous evening’s celebrations. But I guess life is like that. We have to take the bad along with the good. Tomorrow is another day and hopefully everything will turn out right in the end.
Chapter Six
Everyone was asleep except for the three hens.
The pain in her legs kept Sheila awake, while Zelma and Louise were much too worried about everything to doze off. They tried not to think about the next day and were pleased when Sheila brought up a different subject.
‘Tell me about Clancy,’ she said. ‘He seems very nice, but isn’t it rather odd — the two of you becoming friends with a goanna? How did that come about?’
Zelma laughed. ‘It was Louise. If you’d been there, you’d have been amazed — and very proud too, I must say. She was awfully brave.’
Louise blushed. ‘No, I wasn’t,’ she protested. ‘I was just so angry that I couldn’t help myself.’
Sheila wanted to know more and so the three friends, huddling close together for warmth and comfort, settled down for a bedside story. It was almost like the old days at MacDougall’s farm!
‘This all happened quite recently, Sheila, so that’s why you haven’t heard us mention Clancy before,’ Zelma began. She wriggled around a bit, gave her feathers a final fluff and then, when comfortable, she continued.