The Wonderful Wanderings of Wiremu Double-you Weka

Forest and Bird, Issue 107, 1 February 1953, Page 15

The Wonderful Wanderings of Wiremu Double-you Weka

By

E. H. C.

Chapter 11 — HAVEN

W7IREMU never * * knew how long he slept but it seemed as if years \had passed when at length he was stirred by a sensation of soft, breeze-blown fern fronds brushing his tattered feathers. He felt very peaceful, half sleeping, half waking. The fire seemed but a distant memory—all was well again. Then the fern-like caresses ceased; Wiremu started into full wakefulness! His peace was shattered and he struggled in a frenzy of fear. He had a horrible unsafe feeling of nothing beneath his feet something had lifted him from the ground ! It was the fire! The full terror flooded back, he must escape! He must run! It was the fire! But struggle as he would Wiremu could not free himself; the grip that held him was unshakable. As his first mad panic died down Wiremu was puzzled. There were several things he had not noticed before. He could not hear the roaring voice of the fire; he could not, feel the fire’s hot breath; he had seen the fire vanish before his eyes. This could not be the fire, but if not what or who was it that held him ? • Wiremu twisted his head and found himself gazing into the large brown eyes of a little boy. Wiremu’s struggles commenced anew. This was a man child; one like those who had slashed the tree with their knives —a boy who left papers about and trampled plants; one indeed like those who, by their carelessness in putting out their fire, had been responsible for the terrible disaster that had so nearly overwhelmed him but a few hours before ; a boy with no thought for the bush and its creatures; an enemy from whom he must escape! He drew back his head and struck at the entrapping hands with his powerful beak. But it was no good, the terrible chase of a few hours before had stolen all his strength; the blow was only a feeble tap and had no effect on his captor. “All right old chap, I’ll not hurt you.” The voice was sympathetic; the boy shifted the bird into the crook of one arm and stroked him gently with the other hand. Wiremu’s tension relaxed; something in tone and touch told him this was a friend. * “You’re in a fine mess aren’t you?” grinned Wiremu’s new friend. “I’ll take you home and ask Daddy what I ought to do for you. I do hope you’re not hurt inside.” It was not a very comfortable journey. There was a steep downhill climb before they reached the road leading to the reserve of which the boy’s father was caretaker, and Wiremu was very thankful when at length he was set down on the kitchen floor of the caretaker’s cottage while Jimmy (for that was the boy’s name) went in search of his father. And it

was as well that he found him as soon as he did for when the two returned Wiremu, his inquisitive Weka nature getting the better of his exhaustion, was already investigating an open crockery cuphoard. “There see!” cried Jimmy triumphantly. “I said it was as big as a hen. What'is it?” “Why 1 do believe it. is a Weka,” exclaimed Mr. McGillycuddy (yes, believe it or not, McGillycuddy). “I’ve never seen one so close to civilization as this. It must have wandered down from the back country.” “Will he be alright do you think?” Mr. McGillycuddy felt Wiremu carefully all over. “I think so, there’s nothing broken, he is just a bit ' scorched and very tired, he must have been running pretty hard.” “Cap we give, him something to eat? What do Wekas eat?” “They eat anything at all,” laughed Mr. McGillycuddy. “Once when I was camping a weka actually ate a custard I had left on the ashes of the fire to keep warm.” “There’s a dish of custard in the larder, can I give it to him?” “Well, first” said his father rescuing Wiremu from the rubbish box “I think you had better take our inquisitive friend outside, and then I should think some bread would do just as well as custard !” “What shall we call him?” asked Jimmy as he carried Wiremu outside. “Well your 'great grandfather once had a tame Weka called Wiremu.” “Ooh yes! Let’s call him Wiremu the second. Here you are Wiremu the second.” Jimmy collected a plate full of bread ends, poured a "little milk over them to soften them and put them down in front of Wiremu who munched happily. What a wonderful world it was! Here was he, Wiremu Weka 11, the great-and-I-don’t-know-how-many-greats grandson of Wiremu Weka I, being rescued by the great grandson of Mr. McGillycuddy who had given his ancestor his name.

Next time- Wiremu goes exploring.