Bunyips and Billabongs by Amy Hopkins & Michael Anderle

Author:Amy Hopkins & Michael Anderle [Hopkins, Amy & Anderle, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642028362
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2020-04-06T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The first tour offered by the Flying Crow Refuge was that afternoon. The guide Benny was an Islander man in bright orange board shorts and a shirt dot-painted with a colorful frog. After introducing himself, he led the group of interested guests toward what looked like the stretch limousines of golf carts.

"Sorry ’bout the weather, folks." Benny pointed at the roiling clouds in the sky. "Our transport might be covered, but you’re gonna get wet if it rains. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!"

"How does this thing run?" Cisco asked. He slipped into a seat next to Penny. Red and Amelia crammed in after him, squashing the four of them in tightly. "I hope we're not going around any sharp corners. The damn thing might snap in half."

Despite Cisco's misgivings, the vehicle ambled along without any trouble. They took a route that wove into the rainforest, bumping over tree roots and winding around gentle curves as Benny rambled on like any good tour guide would. He pointed out vibrant lorikeets flitting among the treetops and slowed the vehicle right down so that everyone had a chance to see the brilliant green python lazily wrapped around a tree branch. What really piqued Penny's interest, though, was when they trundled over the log bridge that spanned a gently flowing creek. The vehicle stopped, the gently idling engine drowned out by squawking birds and bubbling water. Penny reached out of the cart to feel the mist rising from the water, only to realize it was coming from above. It had started to rain.

"How many of you know the story of Tiddilik?" Benny’s voice carried easily over the ambient noises of the rainforest.

He told the story Penny was already vaguely familiar with. She, along with most other Australian schoolkids, had learned the story in her younger grades. When the native Australian man told it, however, Penny felt like she could see it unfold before her very eyes. Benny’s tale was rich and detailed in a way that Penny had never heard it before. Makes sense, she mused. They only taught the kid’s version in school. As she lost herself to the story, her eyes drifted to the water below. She blinked when a tiny, vibrant flash of rainbow streaked through the water.

"Did you see that?" she asked Cisco.

He tore his eyes away from the trees. "The giant frog? I swear, I almost could. This guy tells one hell of a story!"

Penny watched the water carefully, but whatever she had seen, it didn't come back. It must've been a trick of the light.

Benny finished the tale of Tiddilik and the long cart lurched into motion again. They stopped twice more, once by a cave filled with ancient paintings, and once at an outcropping that looked down into a ravine. Both times, Benny told stories from the first of the generations that had lived in the area. He painted a rich picture of life before technology, of oral traditions passed down by the fire and history recorded with burnt sticks on stone walls.

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