Captain Frigate and the Pirate Birds

Contents

Incoming Odd Feathers

Pied Shagarus of Hypotenuse

Who’'s Who at Tararu?

Trafalgar Tross Meets ‘The Albatross on the North Shore’

Shag-Nani-Gans Day: The Planning

Shag-Nani-Gans Day: The Fun

Feathered Families Without Fuss

Aldersmith is Re-Visited by Trafalgar Tross

The Generation Gap

The ‘Pied In The Sky’ Academy Is Born

The Theory of Flight

How Birds Fly

Maintenance of Feathers

Imogene and The Water Maiden

‘Fly-Out’ Day

Packer the Hacker Meets Aldersmith

The Healing Power of Sushi

Dedication

Author’s Biography

Prologue

Incoming Odd Feathers

Many years ago a ‘No Fly Zone’ of five square kilometres was placed on an area surrounding the Great Hall, home of the Elders, governors of the Tararu Chapter of the Ancient and Honourable Society of Odd Feathers and Tree Nesters.

The Great Hall was situated at the mouth of the Tararu Stream, just north of Thames on the west coast of the Coromandel Peninsular, in New Zealand. Dangerous updrafts could occur without warning especially in winter.

After a particularly accident filled month five years ago, and acting on the advice of the Inspector of Air and Nest Accidents, Ken Kormorant, the Elders put the ‘No Fly Zone’ in place to prevent any more birds from injuring themselves.

The residents of the Tararu community were not able to fly around their village anymore. Instead they had to walk, waddle, or run, to get about. Skateboards were permitted, so long as stingrays, (skate) weren’t injured in the process; the residents were also permitted to cycle.

Movement could be heard, and if you listened carefully to the ‘foot traffic’ it would tell a story all of its own. For residents who studied it, the footfall became a fascinating pastime.

Tonight you could hear the sound of rubber soled trainers slapping down on the path leading up to the Great Hall, and the susurrating sound of feathers accompanying the sound of the trainers could be heard. This had attracted the attention of Ms Honor Royale, an elegant pied Cormorant who was the Administration Manager for the community and of course, the Elders, who were the Trustees of the community.

She noted subconsciously, that the owner of the footsteps was closing in on the Great Hall and would be coming through the doors at any minute.

Ms Royale sat in her expensive leather executive chair surrounded by a beautiful antique desk crafted in New Zealand native Kauri timber. The Administration Office was situated in the foyer of the Great Hall. The desk was immaculately tidy, which was exactly what you would expect from such an efficient and tireless worker as Ms Royale.

Zebra Shagrant, the owner of the trainers had run quite a distance; four and one half kilometres to be precise. Sweat was pouring off him in buckets as he burst through the door of the Administration Office, scaring Ms Royale as he came to a screeching halt in front of her glass cubicle.

"I wish to report a ‘Code Red’ emergency," spluttered Zebra.

Please! he puffed, remembering his manners just in time.

Two hours prior to visiting Ms Royale, Zebra had been performing his nightly refuse collecting along the shoreline where the Tararu community of Odd Feathers and Tree Nesters was domiciled. Zebra Shagrant was a community spirited bird who loved nothing better than cleaning up the debris sightseers left behind when they stopped to inspect the unique scenery found on the Coromandel Peninsula.

He was virtually an orphan as both he and his brother Sirpee had seen their father lose his life in a terrible accident at the marina. Their mother was in a coma which meant she was completely dependent on family and friends to attend to her needs. And all because she had inhaled some ‘herring oil’ she was offered at the time her nesting partner Zebbi had met his death at the Marina. (More of this a little later.)

The task of cleaning up did not earn him any remuneration as such, but every now and then he would discover treasures that had fallen out of the tourists’ pockets. These treasures, the Elders had decreed, were Zebra’s to keep, but only if the local police were notified. If any of the visitors had misplaced valuable items at Tararu, they were welcome to reclaim their possessions after providing acceptable identification, or even better, a photo showing the item being worn.

Tonight there was treasure of a different kind waiting to be discovered.

Each afternoon when he had completed his Home Schooling assignments, and had cooked dinner for his older brother Sirpee and himself, Zebra would stroll to the mouth of the Tararu Stream to pick up rubbish. It could have been a laborious task, filling each sack with trash left behind by passing tourists and sightseers, then having to place the accumulated bags out on the roadside on Wednesdays at around seven thirty in the morning, for collection by the Council’s huge rubbish truck. Zebra would not allow such negative thoughts to enter his head. He was happy to be able to contribute in some small way to the community he was fortunate enough to be raised in.

Zebra had only a small piece of coastline to finish cleaning up and he would be able to join his young friends at the mouth of the stream for some fun before bed-time.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zebra noticed something move. Then he heard the unmistakeable sound of a Dotterel. He turned abruptly and there standing before him, were seven tiny Dotterel huddled together, shivering in the sand.

Crikey Dick. Would you look at that! exclaimed Zebra in a mock Irish accent. (The ‘that’ sounded more like ‘tat’.)

Where did you little fellow’s spring from? said Zebra who was completely taken by surprise.

His heart was filled with adoration at the sight of the seven little Dotterel running towards him, with their wings outstretched. They were shivering in the cool of the evening, and Zebra wondered if they might also be suffering from shock.

The Dotterels sensed that Zebra was a friend and did not present a threat, so when he offered them shelter in his rubbish sack, they never hesitated to hop in. At least it got them out of the cold evening air.

I do apologise for the temporary accommodation, friends, but at least it provides relief from the sou’westerlies that can whip up around the coast without much warning.

How did you come to be here?

Were you blown off course, or have you migrated here?

Can any of you understand what I’m saying?

Yes Mr Shag, we can understand you perfectly well, replied one of the more mature chicks.

We were heading for Tararu when a storm blew up and dumped us down here.

Would you happen to know where that is and how much farther we have to travel?

You are on target. This is the mouth of the Tararu Stream, was Zebra’s reply, which was happily received by the Dotterel family who clapped their tiny wings together in glee.

Thank-goodness for that at least, said the group spokesperson, as they all breathed a sigh of relief.

A couple of the smaller birds are not particularly well. We were on our way to visit our friends at Tararu and got caught up in some nasty weather. This is how the little ones became stressed.

I’m afraid we may lose them if we don’t find some permanent shelter very soon.

Zebra could see that two of the smallest chicks were in fact VERY distressed. But what could he do to help these adorable little birds? He, after all, wasn’t much older in real terms than they were.

Zebra had been brought up to look after any creature who was less fortunate than himself, but confronted with the reality of a serious rescue on his wings, he wasn’t sure what to do.

Wise Owl, please send me some ideas that will help me save these cute little critters, implored Zebra, looking up to the heavens and hoping his father could hear him.

Just give me a minute or two to collect my thoughts and I’ll soon have you permanently safe and warm, replied Zebra addressing himself to the Dotterel spokesperson, hoping his voice sounded calm and relaxed.

"I must remain calm. Or at least maintain the façade of remaining calm. After all, I don’t want to stress them any further than they already are," he thought to himself. Zebra turned to the spokesperson and said confidently:

I know I have to notify the Great and Ancient Sage about this, because he looks after endangered guests. I’m not sure that the little chicks are well enough to make the arduous journey to the Great Hall where the Sage lives. They really need to have somewhere around here to rest safely. I need to think of somewhere to house them where I know they won’t come to any harm.

"Now where would I find such a place?" Zebra wondered to himself.

Then he remembered Tessa and Tassie Tern, the parents of the reckless young flyer, Theadrigull! Zebra knew that the Terns had a huge mansion nest close by, although he had never visited them. Zebra instinctively knew that they could be counted on in an emergency like the one he was facing right now.

Tessa and Tassie Tern’s son was living in Hamilton, attending Waikato University. He was well known for frequent beak-leaks especially if the media offered him an ‘incentive’!

Fortunately Theadrigull wasn’t in residence at the mansion nest, which meant Zebra wouldn’t have to worry about him breaking any embargos on the news that Dotterel had been spotted, as they didn’t want gumboot shod reporters clomping around squashing all the eggs.

"Now, which way is it to the Tern’s mansion nest?" Zebra whispered to the darkness. It was late spring, and daylight saving would not be invoked for another four weeks. The sun still set at around six o’clock in the evening. It looked like a giant poached egg as it slipped from one hemisphere to the other.

Because it was dark comparatively early in the day, the time seemed to be much later than it actually was.

As he looked around, Zebra could just make out the roof-line of the Tern’s mansion nest silhouetted against the sunset, so he headed in a south-westerly direction towards the Terns’ ‘Fairy Lodge’. It wasn’t long before he came to a fork in the road and he couldn’t resist a chuckle when he saw the sign Tassie had put up:

TERN HERE! THIS WAY TO FAIRY LODGE.

Underneath the directions he had written:-

ENCYCLOPEDIA AND VACUUM CLEANER SALESMEN

CLEAR ORF!!

That should do it nicely, said Tassie Tern, when he had finished installing the sign. He was indeed, a bird of few words!!

Once the Dotterels were snug and warm in the plastic rubbish sack, Zebra tried to fly with the sack in his beak, but the sack dragged in the wind and pulled him down. There was only one thing for it. Zebra would have to walk up the steep fly-way to the top of the hill.

It was quite a climb up the steep incline leading to the Terns’ magnificent abode, and Zebra couldn’t help singing the old nursery rhyme, ‘The Grand Old Duke of York,’ as he climbed the hill. The words of that famous old nursery rhyme went like this:

"The Grand old Duke of York, he had ten thousand men,

He marched them up to the top of the hill

And he marched them down again.

And when they’re up they’re up, and when they’re down they’re down

And when they’re only half way up

They’re neither up nor down."

When Zebra knocked on the door of ‘Fairy Lodge’, it was answered by Mrs Tern, still wearing her apron.

Sorry to bother you, Mrs Tern, said Zebra politely. I need your help. By the way, my name is Zebra Shagrant ma’am, he continued.

Oh yes, you are the nice young Cormorant who cleans the coastline for us every afternoon. How can we help you Zebra?

I have just discovered a family of Dotterel down on the shore where I pick-up the rubbish each night. They were battered by high winds and are very hungry and rather stressed I’m afraid.

As he spoke he opened the sack and out flew the Dotterels.

I know that I have to go and fetch the Elder in charge of endangered species. If I take the chicks with me I am worried that they may not survive the gruelling journey. This is why I have come to you. Can you help, please?

"Help? Of course we can. Tassie and I would be greatly honoured to have the little darlings stay awhile with us. We were once refugees ourselves. And there is no need for you to worry about prying neighbours up here. The Dotterel family will be very comfortable with us – so off you go young Zebra and fetch the Sage.

"Tell Ms Royale that you need to speak to him urgently, and that you have a ‘Code Red’ emergency which needs immediate attention. She will know what to do. Ms Royale is the Administration Manager at the Great Hall, just in case you didn’t know. Good luck."

And so Zebra began the journey over rocky terrain on foot to the Administration Office.

Fast forward two hours:-

"I have a ‘Code Red’ emergency to report, Zebra repeated, hoping he sounded a little more authoritive this time. I also urgently need to speak to the Elder responsible for rare and endangered citizens."

It was difficult for Ms Royale to understand Zebra, as he was puffing and panting