Rock-a-bye Baby on the Treetop
It was pitch black when Awa woke. The wind whistled and moaned. Rain clattered on the old iron over his head. One long, heavy branch below him squeaked loudly as it rubbed against another. The little hut rocked sideways, but they were dry under the tarpaulin. He felt for the torch and put it in bed beside him.
Carrot grumped, “Grrrr, grrrr.”
“Don’t worry, Carrot. This tree has been here for hundreds of years. We just have to batten down the hatches, hold tight and wait till morning.”
He pulled the bird in close to him under the tarpaulin. Carrot nibbled his ear and clicked his beak gently. Awa smiled and closed his eyes.
He woke several times in the night and listened to the wind, rain, trees and sea outside his shelter argue noisily. Gusts of wind smacked rain against the tarpaulin, and the branches under him heaved and creaked, but the Kawa Gang were dry and warm. The storm eased as day began to break, and with gentle rain pattering on his tin roof, Awa slept again.
He woke late. The tree was still. He shook the rain and leaves off the tarpaulin, stirring the still grumpy parrot, and sat up. Wet leaves caught the sunlight and threw it out in a thousand tiny rainbows. “Come on, Carrot, let’s go!”
Awa was eager to check out the new world. There was no need to get dressed; he slept in his clothes. He edged his way down the wet tree. Carrot waited at the bottom. “First the kitchen,” Awa said, leading the way.
The little creek beside the kitchen was now an angry torrent, swollen and brown, but it hadn’t reached the fireplace. Awa was pleased to see his billy had caught some clean rainwater. Dry firewood was a problem to be solved later.
They made their way down to the raging ocean. Fat fluffy mounds of rehutai, sea foam, were caught among tangles of seaweed and driftwood high up the beach. He couldn’t see the leopard seal, but he kept his eyes peeled as they walked along the tops of the sand hills. In places, the sea had tossed seaweed right up to the fence line. It had bitten chunks out of the sand hills and thrown bundles of marram grass high up out of its territory.
“Tāwhirimātea, Tāwhirimātea, ta-ta, ta,” Awa sang. “Tangaroa, Tangaroa, ta-ta, ta. Tāne-Tāne-Tāne, ta-ta, ta.”
He danced down the sand hills, singing. Carrot yelled loudly, “Look out,” lifted his wings and glided off Awa’s shoulder.
“Carrot, Carrot, Carrot, ka-ka, ka.”
Awa stood knee-deep in a drift of rehutai at the sea’s edge. He gathered up bundles of the creamy sea-foam and threw it in the air. Still singing, he chased Carrot, throwing the foam about. Then he collapsed in the soft sand at the foot of a sand hill and Carrot flew over to land on his chest. Breathing heavily, and with the parrot looking at him sideways, Awa said, “Thank you, Tāne. Thank you, Tangaroa. Thank you, Tāwhirimātea!”
“Carrot, Carrot.”
“And thank you, Carrot. He kai?”
“Crusty.”
“Come on then, let’s start a fire, somehow. Tea, crusty.”
“Tea, crusty,” echoed the bird.
At the Kawa Gang HQ, Awa got matches and a candle from his bundle. He fossicked for some dryish mānuka twigs, arranged them carefully in the fireplace, and lit a candle, which he gently placed on its side under the twigs. It sputtered a bit, but the flame gave off enough heat to dry the twigs, and the melting wax fed the flames. He soon had a fire going and the billy on.
After a long cooked breakfast that probably should have been dinner, they set off along the coast. The tide had pulled back, leaving treasure behind. Useful driftwood, shapely shells, some husky coconuts dropped from trees on tropical islands almost as far away as Hawaiki, and seaweed. Agar. Pa Rumble would have a lot to pick up on his return. Defeated seabirds, caught out by the storm, lay half-buried in the wrack. The tractor marks had disappeared, taken away by the storm.
As Awa shook a clump of seaweed, something dropped wriggling onto the sand. A seahorse. He carefully placed it back on the seaweed and carried it up to the Rumbles’ cabin. He called out for Tredget, but there was no sign of him and the fire was out.
He found a large glass jar and added some seawater and a tuft of seaweed attached to a small rock. Then he slipped the little seahorse off his palm and into the jar.
“You can go back into a rock pool at low tide,” Awa said to it. He watched it swim around the jar and then wrap its tail round a seaweed stem.
Its colour and texture, red, yellow, white and rippled, were just like the seaweed. “Now you see me, now you don’t.” Awa laughed and called Carrot, who was dozing on his perch.
“Carrot, shoulder! Let’s see how that mermaid with the flip-top head lasted the night.”
At the boulder end of the beach, there were two sleek shapes resting among the highest rocks, beyond the reach of the wild sea of the night before. “It’s got a mate. Not too close this time, eh Carrot.”
Awa felt safe on the beach, with the boulders between him and the leopard seals. He stood silently, watching them.
“Look out! ZEALOTS!” yelled Carrot.
Two heads lifted, and one neck stretched up, the better to sniff the air. With unexpected speed, the leopard seals shuffled their bulk down over the rocks and towards the sea and Awa. This time, he didn’t hang around. He ran up to the shelter of the mānuka and stood beside his hīnaki, watching as the two animals made their way down to his footprints in the sand. The largest of the two sniffed the sand his bare feet had stood on moments before, and then looked his way.
“Brrrr,” said Awa. “That leopard seal gives me the willies.”
“Grrrr,” said Carrot. “Crusty?”
Back at Kawa HQ and with the billy on, Awa checked his supplies. There was a fish left from yesterday hanging in a wet sugar bag, but no way to catch more with the leopard seals on the prowl. Awa was planning a trip to the other end of the beach to get pāua, when Toss arrived.
“You are all right then, Boy? I was a bit worried about you. That was a wild night. Time for a cup of tea and a kōrero?”
He tied up his horse and his two dogs, patted Carrot and sat by the fire with Awa.
“Rock-a-bye baby on the treetop,” he sang, “when the wind blows the cradle will rock, when the bough breaks the cradle will fall, and down will come baby, cradle and all. Good tree, eh Boy?”
“It squeaked a bit,” said Awa.
“So would you with Tāwhirimātea snapping at you like that.”
“I’ve thanked Tāne, Tangaroa and Tāwhirimātea for a safe night, and Carrot too, for company.”
“Good. And how is yonder mermaid, do you think?”
“It’s got a mate. There’s two now, and it’s got my scent. Smells my footprints and licks its lips.”
“I could chase it off, but I don’t wanna risk my dogs. Best to wait. It might bugger off now it has company. Maybe it knew a storm was coming. No fish then, and stay outa the water. Lucky I brought you some chops. Wanna try?”
Awa had chops grilled on the coals, a yarn with Toss and more cups of tea. Toss left him more fresh meat and went on his sheep rounds. “This is the life,” Awa said to himself.
At low tide he took the seahorse down to a shallow rock pool and set it free, watching as it disappeared effortlessly among the seaweed. He gathered a few pāua for emergency rations, thinking about frying them in some butter back at HQ.
Up at the tree hut, as the shadows spread down from the hills, he checked his gear was still dry. Feeling very sleepy after the wild night, he lay on the rock-a-bye bed. Carrot, perched on the headboard, was already dozing off. Awa sang to himself the nursery rhyme Toss had sung earlier that day, smiling at the thought of a baby sleeping in a treetop. “Babies sleep anywhere, but why would anyone want to put a baby up a tree in a cradle? Nursery rhymes are crazy.”