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Chapter 32: First Report and the Cloak
Ginger pushes the Play button…over a low hum they hear “Kia ora. Tena koe, tena koe, tena koe… tenei kei ana Raowsterman… tahi, rua, toru, wha… whakamatautau… Whakamatautau.
“You didn’t know I could speak Maori, did you Rusty? I learnt a little te reo around the cookhouse in shearing gangs up in the bay. Did I push the collar button okay? Do you think they can hear us? I’ll say it again in English… Greetings, hello, hello, hello. This is Raowsterman. One, two, three, four… testing. Testing.”
“Raow, I’m sure the message has gone,” says Rusty. “Let’s listen.”
Mac, carrying a portable unit hanging on his collar, replies, “Raow, Rusty, this is Mac. You’re loud and clear. Please wait while I join Orca and TJ in the radio room and plug into the main receiver.” They hear the clickety click-click of Mac’s trotters on the stone paving… then he says, “Go ahead.”
“That’s it Raow – touch the collar here like you did before, and talk… it’s that easy.”
“Okay Rusty. The plan has gone according to plan so far,” says Raow. “We allowed ourselves to be netted, and I’ve had a lovely long brushing from the boss lady. She says, ‘You couldn’t possibly have caught those rats. You’re too handsome and soft.’ She hasn’t named me yet, but Rusty has been called Rusty by this lot too. Rusty it’s your turn,” finishes Raow in a stage whisper.
“Hi crew. We’re safe. Neither of us was hurt in the capture. We have our own quarters in a room off the kitchen. It’s got a very big cat and dog flap to the back door entrance, which is through the washhouse. We’ll be able to wander about freely within the house – we hope. They threw me into a drinking trough of freezing cold water by the shearing shed. Before I could shake myself off, one of them rubbed some foul smelling stuff all over me. Then they rinsed me down with a yard washing hose, like we have in the stables. It’s clear we’re going to have to keep on producing dead rats for them from time to time. There are no worries about that because there are lots to hunt.
“As Raow said, they’ve called me Rusty. Because the one with the rough ears reckoned I was just like a border collie ‘gourie’ he had years ago, colour, size and everything. You may need to explain to the youngsters at home there, that a gourie is a rough sort of mongrel dog, and it’s just a slang expression often said with fondness. Anyway on we go: collar commanders are working as we anticipated, and so’s the alert. When you call us up, the unit pulses nicely without a sound. There is nothing else to report at the moment. Over.”
“Nice one you two heroes, thank you. When there’s news to help plan our counter-moves please call. Sounds okay?”
“Fine. Over and out.”
* * *
“That’s very satisfactory,” says Ginger. “Surprisingly there’s not a hitch in our scheme so far.
“Now… Ziggurat and Scoobie front and centre if you please, and tell us why you have chosen to wear the cloak.” Trotting quietly, the two dogs come wearing a rough cloak of heavy sacking. Patched here and there with an assortment of bright coloured rags, it is fastened around the neck with an old silk tie.
“We’re wearing the cloak,” says Ziggy, “because our actions put our friends in danger. When we thought about it we realized we’d been very silly.”
“Yes,” says Scoobie… “We were scouting as Larry said, quietly and thoroughly. With our horses on a good path we were ranging further ahead and wider, when we heard two horses talking. You may think it was impossible for us to creep up on them quietly, but we did. Talking stallion talk they were, sort of big hero stuff. We didn’t like it because it sounded like Maid would be in danger. So we charged to drive them away from our friends coming behind us. They didn’t run, but turned and went for us. We panicked I think and went crazy. We tried to nip-nip and frighten them away. It didn’t work. In our blue funk, we headed back to where we’d come into the paddock and they followed us. The remainder of the story you know.”
“So,” continues Ziggy, “we have chosen to wear ‘the cloak of shame’ until you all decide we are free.”
“Indeed,” says Ginger, “that’s honourable. We’ll put your freedom to the vote soon. Meantime, because the cloak hasn’t been worn for quite a long time, Phantaloom will remind us about how we decided to use it.”
“This here cloak,” says Phantaloom, “and we’ve an assortment of sizes to fit everyone, may be put on by any animal. This happens whenever they believe, rightly or sometimes wrongly, that their words or actions have not been worthy. Or if in their opinion, they’ve put family and friends in danger. You recall we do not have a system, where those who may be guilty of misconduct are tried. There is no pleading innocent before a jury and judge. No chance of getting off on a legal technicality, or because of clever twisting or presentation of evidence. There is no opportunity for bribery, plea-bargaining or corrupt manipulation. We know in our hearts and minds if we’ve transgressed.
“Ginger, you’re the lawyer, how does that word sit with you?” Ginger winks at Phantaloom who continues, “It’s a system we’ve all agreed to, and it has worked very well to this day. Each animal that wears the cloak stands before us to explain. The whole crew decides the next step.”
The room fills with a quiet hum of conversation… each kin group’s decision is taken to Ginger. He says, ‘Scoobie and Ziggy did well to take up the cloak. Their actions were silly and potentially dangerous. But they’ve learnt a lesson and have explained this judiciously, and you have decided they’ve served their time. So we say,” and here a great multi-voiced chorus renders, “Throw off the cloak and be free.”
In the southeast corner of the room, Ziggy and Scoobie hang their cloaks amongst the multi-hued selection. To the assembly they bow graciously, returning to join the delivery team horses, Lucky and Bess.
“A fair and happy outcome,” says Ginger. “Now there’s one last thing to explore, and I’m surprised no one has raised the question. What in the name of all that is good and holy does the yell of “bonsai” mean? Sooty, I’m convinced I heard this cry made by you and coming on the wind from the offal pit. Please elucidate… make things clear about the bonsai rebel yell.”
Sooty explains, “I knew we were taking on ‘a big ask’, but didn’t say that to the crew. When the action started it was fast and furious, and I remember thinking ‘heaven help us, what have we got ourselves into here?’ I wouldn’t have said ‘banzai,’ because although I knew the task was gargantuan – like very big that is, it was not a suicide mission. Nor was I greeting the Japanese emperor. Screaming ‘bonsai’, I guess I was thinking about cutting things down to size, like these stoats… teach them a lesson. That’s what flashed through my mind. And gargantuan, I just thought I’d throw in a big word while you and Phant were bandying such things about!”
With a wicked Cheshire-cat grin, Sooty the card, the jester, hides his elation behind vigorous eye washing.
Every animal holds their own counsel, as they head out to finish their daily round of tasks and challenges.