Tsunami

by Robin Stewart

Chapter 8 Hunter gatherers

  The following morning, Noah decided to dig for the shellfish his grandmother told him lived just below the surface of the beach sand. Slinging his grandfather's old sack over his shoulder, he set off for the bay. He dug with his bare toes, moving slowly along the wet sand, feeling for the smooth hardness of the cockle shells.

  Noah was often teased (especially at school) about his long monkey-like toes. But on this occasion, in particular, Noah was pleased that his toes were long! He worked the whole beach, a curve of sand leading towards a series of rocky headlands, on either end. The sand felt smooth and silky, but very cold.

  The tide was low. A pair of oyster catchers, some sandpipers and a lone ibis foraged for food on the rocky reef.

  While Noah was collecting cockles, Prince saw a piece of driftwood floating out in the waves. The dog made his way across the reef, and then plunged into the surf. A huge wave crashed over the dog. Noah’s heart thudded in his chest as he waited anxiously for Prince to emerge from the froth and bubbles.

  But when Prince surfaced, Noah saw he was caught in a dangerous rip. The retriever was strong, however, and very determined. He swam across the rip and continued on towards the wood. Eventually he grasped the timber firmly in his powerful jaws, and carried it back to the reef. Prince dragged the long piece across the rocks, along the sand, and dropped it at Noah's feet.

  "Good boy!" exclaimed Noah, amazed by the size and weight of the wood. "Can you take it all the way back to our campfire?"

  Prince shook the water from his top coat, then picked up the driftwood again and carried it towards Gran and their campfire. So proud was he of the driftwood, that he held his tail high, flying it like a kite.

  "You are the very best collector of firewood," said Gran warmly, as Prince handed her the long piece of wood. Gran put the driftwood near the fire, where it would dry slowly over the next day or so.

  As Prince stood in front of the fire, drying his wet fur, he waved his tail happily. He knew that golden retrievers love to retrieve almost anything from water. It was what they were bred to do.

  When Noah arrived back at their camp, several minutes later, he told his grandmother, "I thought Prince was going to drown out there in the waves. He’s so brave and strong -- -- --! I've got plenty of cockles for our lunch. And plenty to share with him too."

  Squatting alongside the campfire, Noah scraped the fire to one side then took the shellfish from his sack and placed them on the hot earth. Using a forked stick, he raked a layer of glowing coals over the small shellfish. Within a few minutes, the smell of freshly cooked seafood filled Noah’s nostrils.

  Using his green stick, Noah flipped each cockle out of the fire and on to an improvised plate: a freshly-picked fern frond. After cooling for a few minutes the cockles were ready to eat. Now they were cooked it was easy to split open the two halves of the shellfish. The meat inside was hot, tender and very tasty. Gran, Noah and Prince ate ten cockles each.

  For their vegetables, Gran had picked some climbing spinach. From a driftwood plate, Noah took some young shoots and some leaves, put them in his mouth and began to chew. "They are crunchy," he said, "and taste a little bit salty."

  "And what do you think of these fern roots?" asked Gran, passing him another driftwood plate. "I’ve roasted them in the hot coals."

  "They’re good," Noah said, chewing the yellow roots. "A bit stringy, but sweet."

  "We need rainbows in the sky," Gran said dreamily, "and rainbows in the foods we eat. Greens, reds, whites, yellows, purples -- -- --. Rainbow meals are healthy meals."

  Just a little above the high tide mark, and growing in the dunes, Noah found clumps of pigface creeper. Kneeling on the sand, he trailed his hand along the creeping stems. He examined the thick fleshy leaves, in the shape of fingers.

  "Look," he said, picking one of their small reddish- purple fruits. "I’m going to try one."

  Nibbling cautiously at first, with his head on one side, he said, "It tastes okay." Then he sucked the juice more enthusiastically and exclaimed, "It tastes a bit like a salty strawberry. Do you want to try one?"

  After tasting the pigface fruit Gran observed, "I think it has the flavour and texture of a soft fig. And look, you can see that the birds are eating them too. See the purple stain in their droppings?"

  "Perhaps our poo will go purple too!" said Noah.

  Noticing that Coo’s droppings were also purple, Noah announced, "Coo must have been eating the pigface fruit too."

  "Your grandfather taught me that an animal’s droppings offer a lot of valuable information," said Gran, as she examined the purple droppings.

  "Can you see that Coo’s droppings are a bit different to the other birds’ droppings?" Gran continued.

  "Yes. They’re a different sort of purple."

  "I'm almost certain that Coo has found a patch of blackberries," said Gran excitedly.

  "Well, I'll watch her like a hawk!" Noah announced.

  Several hours later Coo flew off into the forest. Noah followed her, walking quickly, his mind focused on blackberries. But he lost her and, disappointed returned to camp.

  Several times a day, Star wandered off into the forest nibbling leaves, tasty buds and twigs. Star had plenty of food! Later that same day though, Star returned with Prince, and both had purple juice staining their lips and tongues.

  "Look!" exclaimed Noah, "Star and Prince have found the blackberries too."

  Looping a strand of seaweed around Star’s neck, as a collar, and another longer piece as a lead, Noah said, "Okay Star, please take us to the blackberries."

  But Star didn't need the collar and lead. She loved playing the game of ‘Follow the Leader’.

  Dancing on spindly legs, Star jumped nimbly over fallen logs, leapt over small streams and pushed her way through ferns. She led Noah, Prince and Coo into a different part of the forest. Noah smelt the damp mosses and rotting leaves of the forest floor.

  Only one hundred metres from their camp, and growing along the banks of the river, Noah saw a dense thicket of blackberries, their canes loaded with ripe fruit. The air was busy with the songs of birds.

  In no time at all, Noah's fingers, lips and tongue were stained purple too, as he feasted on the blackberries. Star climbed up the overgrown vines, balancing on her hind legs to pluck the ripest, tastiest blackberries. She was unafraid of the pickles and thorns.

  Within thirty minutes Noah returned to camp, his sack half-filled with blackberries, his face was one big smile. His eyes sparkled.

  Gran was pleased too. "If only I had some flour, I'd bake us a scrumptious blackberry pie," she said, "your favourite desert. I'd even make some jam -- -- -- --. Instead, we’ll eat the blackberries raw and enjoy their juicy, rich flavour."

  Full of blackberries, Noah welcomed the dark velvety night in the sleepy forest. He knew they were safe, with Prince guarding the entrance. As he snuggled into his deep ferny bed, Noah heard the faint murmurings of night creatures as they drifted and scampered through the misty forest.

  Tomorrow he’d collect lots more blackberries!