Chapter 29: Nothing Wasted

Broadcasting the morning bulletin, Phantaloom asks everyone to assemble at 2.0 pm.

Daily tasks are eagerly pursued, and finished early in keen anticipation of the meeting. The bell rings at the appointed time, and the family gather quickly. Ginger signals and the multitude of animal voices quietens immediately for him to introduce Ben.

Ben reports…“Thanks to Porky and Petunia, the piglets who worked tirelessly, assembling and testing communication units. Johnny and I concentrated on made-to-measure collars, ear tags and leg rings for everyone. We’ve also made some sturdy units for the young ones to play with and learn the basics. Although the nature of the rock is very robust, these have been made exceptionally, extra-strong for extreme use. Just in case they should ever be needed, we’ve ready a number of devices for use underwater.“

Mac tells what he, Orca, and T J have been up to…“We’ve re-powered the home-base send/receive unit. It’s been fitted with a booster, made in the workshop as an exercise some time ago. We’re confident this and the aerial extension will pick up reasonable signal from anywhere in the country. We’d like to test its range, so if any of you have contact with, or friends amongst birds that range far and wide like the albatross, please tell me and we’ll organize it. Thank you to these Trojan lads who laboured long, forgetting their disappointment at missing the stoat escapade.”

Sooty gets the nod from Ginger and begins, “Please bear with me, that’ll be Panda today,“ says Sooty, winking. “Basha is fine. As we know, her heart’s as big as all Australia. Three stoats assaulted Basha. I saw it happen. Basil, Terror and myself dealt to this trio. Basha’s left rear tibia is pinned. Fortunately it was a clean break and no splinters. She’s expected to make a full recovery, is resting comfortably and will be in plaster for some weeks. All visitors are most welcome, she says. Although some of our party suffered heavy bruising, and some wounds that needed many stitches, we prevailed. Our success was partly due to the sterling work Patch and Joy did with the farm bike and a can of oil.

“Since returning home we’ve researched a few facts on the stoat. Because they are formidable enemies, Babs and Smudge have produced a one-sheet handout. Please pass it around and I’ll comment. I’m sorry to tell you the male is called a dog. It may be as long as thirty centimetres and weigh up to half a kilogram. The bitch is a little shorter at maturity, and weighs at maximum, sixty percent of a male’s weight. The young are if you please, kittens, and there can be stacks of them out hunting as our ducks, hens and other friends know. ‘Dog, bitch and kittens,’ sick making isn’t it!

Anyway those are the facts. Note these things please. “They are fast, agile, and excellent tree climbers. Hunting by day or night they have very keen senses of smell and sight. They will kill just for the thrill of it… senseless, surplus killing, and said Sooty, with emphasis what’s more they stink”. Now I know none of us particularly like killing for the sake of it, and every animal has its place in the great hierarchies of nature. But these stoats have got to go. There is no place for them in Aotearoa New Zealand. Cleaning this lot out will be an example and a lesson to them. Kiwi and many other birds particularly ground dwelling native birds, and all kinds of fauna like lizards and stuff,” said Sooty, excitedly waving his front paws about…“Well, they’ll be grateful to us for our efforts.

“Now here’s an extremely important fact. Lock this in your memory. The stoat kills all but the biggest prey by a single bite to the back of the neck. It’s natural to them and instinctive one suspects. So, we have a design for armour to fit everyone small enough to need it. Let’s hope we never have occasion to make it up.

“You’ll see the stoat pelts cleaned, stretched and dressed for curing, hanging over there,” Sooty indicates to his left. “There are some brownish/red ones with white underneath, and a surprising number of white ones for this time of the year. We’ll use all of these to make a number of new ‘cloaks of shame’. You all see the symbolism there, I’m sure. That’s the hunting party report and now I’ll answer questions.”

“What about the male-female mix in the kill Sooty? And also, have you any thoughts on the strangeness of it all?” asks Terror!

“Thanks Terror. I’d forgotten we were going to tell everyone those things… There are three males, seven females and the rest are nearly full grown kittens, fifty/fifty. Males usually live solitary lives in their own marked-out territory, so it is very unusual to catch a whole lot around the one spot, although females keep their litter close to home for ages. Babs, Smudge and I speculate that the tunnels around the offal hole are very extensive, with many small holes to enter and exit through – besides the major ones we forced them out of. So we figure, with this maze, and it being such a good hunting region, the solitary males are able to live separately, but in the same area. Anyway it’s only a theory! Now we have the hang of a method to clean them out, we will do it as and when necessary.

“One more thing I nearly forgot. We don’t like to waste anything even if it’s animals like these sworn enemies. So, we have the carcasses soaking in brine, which will remove that awful musky pong from the cleaned bodies. They’ll be cooked with a mixture of sweet and medicinal herbs plus assorted grains… I know it sounds a bit gross, but the idea came from Monty and Myrtle, who are taking charge of this on behalf of ducks, hens, and others who have reason to enjoy the irony of the situation.”

Spontaneously rising to their hooves, paws, paddles and feet the Motley Crew en masse raise the roof… a reverberating three cheers resounds for the brave hunters…

And, “One for Basha and her recovery,” bellows Molly through the pandemonium. Windows pulse, doors not fastened sweep open…in the romping, roistering, rollicking catharsis.