The Bunyip Collection

Chapter 12

“That was very immature of both of you.” Holly scorned. “And you ran off and left poor Saffi and Jase with no one to play with. I’m totally embarrassed by your behaviour. Oh God, here he comes.”

both “We’d better run for it!” Shouted Tristram.

“Shut your mouth.” Holly snapped and glared into Tristram. “Now you listen to me. I know this man. It is not the witch doctor from the opal. That is just a story – and it’s about time you grew up. You’re a big boy now; you’re too old to be spooked by fairy tales. His name is Fred and he is a friend of mine. I’ve known him for years and we get along very well. But now – well, you’ve insulted him, I’m sure. He’ll think that you’re racist. He’ll think that I’m racist, and that I have taught you to be scared of aborigines.”

notopalfairyI’m“Ease up, Holly.” Russell interjected coolly. “We might know him, but they don’t. They’re only kids, and Fred is a stranger to them.”

WeisHolly did not answer him as Fred was now within ear shot.

“Hello, Fred!” She beamed. “Fancy seeing you out here.”

The old aborigine smiled at her and looked Pyran and Tristram up and down, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“G’day, Holly, Russ. I think I scared ya little fellas dere.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that, Fred, they’ve been listening to stories about a witch doctor and well, you know how overactive kids’ imaginations can be.”

“Yeah. Dey did da right thing. I coulda been a bad stranger, or a mooki man, eh? Or maybe…the ol’ mirachy, eh?”

mirachyHe looked playfully at the two boys, who were frowning at him nervously.

“What’s a mirachy?” Pyran asked.

“Da black mirage. Haven’t heard aboud ‘im, eh? Good for you. It always backfires ta tell children about da mirachy. Dey won’t go to bed wid out da light on.” He chuckled to himself, as he watched their anxiety become curiosity. He then turned to Holly and Russell. “Thought I’d come an’ say g’day, seein’ as ya saw me yesterday. Don’t want ya ta think I was snobbin’ ya, eh?”

black mirageHolly smiled. “I did see you, Fred. So, did Tris – you haven’t met Tris, have you? Fred, this is my eldest son Tristram, Tristram this is Fred.”

“Hello.” Tristram said.

“You’re da boy dat’s always findin’ frogs, aren’t ya? Holly’s told me a lot about ya, mate. Sounds like ya woulda made a good tribesman, eh?”

“And this is my nephew, Pyran.”

“G’day.” Pyran said. “Sorry we ran off, but ya scared the hell out of us.”

“No worries, mate. Dat’s why I came over, ta put ya at ease.”

“We did see you yesterday evening, Fred.” Holly confessed. “But I thought that you might have come here to get away from people, and so I thought it best to leave you be. I wasn’t being ra- you know, I wasn’t being snobbish.”

“I know ya not a racist, Holly. I didn’t come down an’ see yas last night ‘cause I thought it was a family thing, unna?”

A few more pleasantries were exchanged, Holly babbled far too much, and her forced chuckle grated on Tristram’s nerves. Fred found it charming, however, and did his best to put Holly and everyone else at ease. Russell joked with Fred as he did with all his acquaintances, and soon Fred was invited to tea with the rest of the family.

Hester had her reservations about Fred at first, as they all sat about the fire after their meal. However, as the night wore on, and they exchanged stories and jokes, she was impressed by his good nature, and the way he listened carefully to any person who was speaking. Stewart and Karl regarded Fred with affable curiosity. Mary took a kindly interest in him, as she did with every person who crossed her path. Fred enjoyed Mary’s observations about the habits of birds and insects.

The topics of conversation rolled smoothly into one another, and they were all intrigued by Fred’s knowledge of bush tucker. Of course, they all knew already about witchetty grubs and kangaroo flesh, but they were amazed at some of the bush cordials that could be made with grevillea and myrtle flowers.

“Meself, I prefer the simple things.” Stewart drawled. “I like the idea of a bit of fire-cooked kangaroo flesh, or fish or wombat or anything. Simple things. Not these sorta delicate, airy-fairy, fancy things yer pay a thousand dollars a head for in every city restaurant.”

“Oh Stewart, don’t exaggerate!” Mary sighed.

“I’ve told you a million times not to exaggerate.” Russell quipped.

Eyes rolled.

“Whose exaggerating?” Bellowed Stewart. “Yer get these giant plates with a single mouthful of raw meat covered in grass and flowers – Jack, I could get that for you after five minutes in the garden.”

five minutes“It’s the culinary experience, Dad.” Hester rebuked. “It’s cooked by excellent chefs with supremely developed senses of taste.”

“Maybe so but they don’t have to send me bankrupt for a third of a meal, just ‘cause it looks arty. Nope – those in the restaurant business are all con artists and thieves.”

third “Oh God!” Sighed Mary and Holly.

“Dad, you’re a tight-arsed, silly old bugger!” Hester shouted jovially, though her eyes hinted at heart-felt criticism. They all chuckled.

“Tea was good tonight, Russ.” Fred observed.

“Thank you.” Russell answered.

“Yeah, it was good, Russ.” Hester added. “You really are quite good in the kitchen, Holly’s very lucky.”

“It was beautiful – but again, too fancy.” Stewart opined.

“Here we go.” Russell mocked. “What do you care, you miserable old bastard? It didn’t cost you anything.”

you“It didn’t cost me any money, but I nearly died waitin’ for it.” Stewart teased. “I mean, yeah, it was cooked beautifully, an’ it melted in the mouth and had every herb an’ everything. But it wasn’t ready now, yer know what I mean? When I’m hungry out in the bush, I get a good steak with a few mushrooms and some onion; whack it on the barbie and she’s ready to go in moments. But with your stuff Rusco – is it ready yet? No. I wait another half hour – is it ready yet? No – an’ more time goes by an’ it smells delicious an’ I still can’t get anywhere near it – no – not ready yet. And by the time you’ve finished cookin’ I’m dribblin’ and delirious…”

waitin’nowdribblin’deliriou“Oh, will you cut it out?!” Hester shouted, laughing. “If you’re going to dominate the conversation you should at least tell us something interesting. I want hear about your encounter with Big Scale.”

“Yeah!” Exclaimed the children enthusiastically. Suddenly the attention of the family was eagerly centred on the old farmer.

“Big Scale?” Asked Fred.

“A big fish that fights every fisherman on earth and keeps their hook.” Answered Holly. “Every fisherman must face him one day.”

“I see.” Smiled Fred.

“We all have to face our own particular monster at some time or another in life.” Began Stewart. “Whether it’s a fish or a bull or a dog…sometimes, the monster we have to face is a man…and fairly often, that man is the very same fella we see starin’ back at us from the mirror.”

“Just tell the bloody story, Stewart.” Russell scoffed.

Stewart chuckled. “Fair enough, then. Now yer all remember Rusco’s story yesterday. It was well told, an’ he was right to point out that all the cleverness in tryin’ ta catch him was me own.”

There was an audible sigh from Russell.

“Well, me own encounter with Big Scale happened the very next day.” Stewart continued. “Yer see, Big Scale saw Rusco put the cod on the anchor the day before, so he knew that technically he was fightin’ with Russell. He now knew he had beaten Rusco, but he didn’t know how he’d go with me. That’s how I knew he’d be back. Well, I was up all night thinkin’ about how to tackle him. Remember, that we had to travel all the way back along the river from Mildura to Swan Hill – a fair old hike, so I had plenty of time to think. Now, I wasn’t gonna let Big Scale off without a bloody decent fight. Yer see kids, there hasn’t been an animal on this earth yet that could beat me – and I was buggered if I was gonna let Big Scale be the first.

Here’s what I did: I got another anchor and used a whole sheep for bait – there was one newly dead an’ fly blown in a nearby paddock. I got some good, triple weave rope, and tied it very securely to the anchor and around the sheep. Next, I tied the other end of the rope to Rusco’s car.”

“Awesome…” Grinned Pyran. Bright young eyes watched the old man with wonder as adults smiled. Stewart had them in.

“Just as the sunlight began to creep across the paddocks, I had everything ready. I was havin’ me pipe, an’ a good bowl of porridge with me honey and cream – yer need a good breakfast to tackle a big fish – an’ ol’ Rusco was havin’ a coffee, watchin’’ the river.

Suddenly it got all quiet. The birds stopped chatterin’, an’ the sheep stopped bleatin’, an’ even the leaves of the ol’ red gums stopped rustlin’.

Suddenly it got all quiet“Here he comes, Rusco” I said, before we even saw him. Yer spend enough time in the outdoors, yer soon learn to read the signs of nature. Sure enough, there he was about two hundred yards down the river, just cruisin’ along. Again, we watched his dorsal fin stand up straight, and again he dived.

“GET TO THE CAR, RUSCO!” I shouted, as I suddenly realised that Big Scale had launched straight into the fight! He grabbed the sheep – and the rope was coilin’ off the bank at a million miles an hour into the river!

Well! Rusco throws his coffee into the air, leaps over the campfire, kicks the billy over as he does – an’ jumps into the car just in time. He started the engine an’ put ‘er straight into fifth gear. The rope went horribly taught and I felt sure it was gonna snap. The tyres were screechin’ an’ the engine was revvin’! It felt like the whole world was in a panic.

Wellleapskicks“Put ‘er into first or second, Rusco!” I shouted. He did just that and slowly but surely, we pulled the big bastard in. Boy was he mad! His giant head broke the surface – an’ it woulda been as big as Holly’s little Mazda 323. And his eyes! I will never forget those giant, golden, lidless eyes – they rolled and reflected the sunlight, and he was starin’ straight into me very soul. Well, I stared back!” Stewart was sincerely fierce with his narrative and his eyes blazed with determination.

“Didn’t you want to run?!” Saffi exclaimed.

“Run?! Never! Not in this situation, anyway. Yer must never run from any big animal – it invites it to chase yer. If you can definitely out-run it to safety – maybe it’s worth a go, otherwise – stay put and look prepared to fight – an’ most likely you’ll bluff it into not attackin’.” Stewart rejoined.

Run“Did you get him to the bank?!” Pyran asked, his eyes bulging.

“You bet yer boots we did! And didn’t he make a fight! I grabbed a crow-bar an’ it was on! I whacked him and belted him, and he lashed with his tail and tried to maul me with all the rusty hooks in his mouth! Oh! Kids, we fought for hours!” Stewart gave his tale a lift with wild and exaggerated gestures.

“So, he how did he get away?” Asked Tristram in total disbelief that his granddad could lose. The fight was vividly real in his eyes. He saw the elephant-sized fish thrashing through the yellow grass on the muddy banks of the mighty Murray river. He caught the flash of hooks in the giant mouth; he heard and felt the impact of Stewart’s hits with the crowbar. He saw the bright, silver flesh bruise with each belt, and saw scales the size of dinner plates fall to the ground in the morning light. He heard the screaming car engine and he watched Stewart dodge the taught rope and the wide whipping tail. He saw his grandfather sweat, as he glared into the huge malevolent eyes of Big Scale, his robust build rigid with rage, and his jaw clenched in defiance…

“Well, Tris…” Stewart sighed bitterly, “It happened this way: with the rusty hooks in his mouth, Big Scale savaged the rope and finally snapped it in two. O’ course, Rusco was sent flyin’ in the car across the paddocks with the elastic force of it all. It took him half an hour to drive back – going at full speed.

I grabbed the snapped end and tried to hold Big Scale on the bank – I was exhausted from the fight, so I could only hold him for forty minutes.”

The adults scoffed at Stewart’s playful conceit.

“Don’t laugh – alright, it was more like five minutes. See, yer gotta remember that all me life I’ve done the work of three men – until recently. (Sheep are a lot stronger than they used to be). Anyway, the hook suddenly pulled out of his mouth and the giant fish began to roll slowly back towards the water. In a last effort to finish him off, I lifted the crowbar for a final belt. I could see he was exhausted, an’ I honestly thought I could have him. But, with a sudden surge of energy, which all fish seem to have at the end of a fight, he whacked me fair in the face with his giant tail and knocked me unconscious.”

“So, you lost…” Pyran sighed, disappointed.

“Well, Pyran, when I woke up, I thought so. The trees around me were all splintered and broken and snapped – the riverbank where we fought looked like a ploughed field…when Rusco finally showed up he said “Look at your nose!”

Now, you kids don’t know this, but I used to have the longest nose in the Mallee and Wimmera country. Yer grandma has pictures. Well, Big Scale flattened it into the wide spectacle yer lookin’ at today.”

The children were utterly convinced. His nose was irrefutable proof of the encounter.

“However,” Stewart continued with a twinkle in his eyes, “I found something on the bank that made me decide that I didn’t really lose, after all. In fact, it made me realise that Big Scale and I will fight again. It was a draw, yer see, kids – because he didn’t get to keep me hook.”

because he didn’t get to keep me hookThe family laughed and applauded the tale.