by Haynes, Jim
JH
KOALA AND KANGAROO
TRADITIONAL/JENKYN THOMAS
The koala and the kangaroo were very friendly. They shared the same gunyah, and hunted together, and were very proud of their long tails.
At this time, a drought was over the land. Water was very scarce, and the two friends had camped by a shallow waterhole, which contained some stagnant water. After the clear springs of the mountains, such water made them sick, but it saved them from dying of thirst.
At sunset, banks of dark clouds would float low across the sky and give promise of heavy rain, but, at sunrise, the sky would be as bright and clear as before. At last, even the supply of stagnant water was exhausted, and the two friends were in a desperate plight.
After some time, the kangaroo spoke and said: ‘I shall go to the river and see if I can dig and find water, for if we stay here we shall surely perish from thirst.’
The koala was delighted at the suggestion, and said: ‘Yes! Let us both go down to the riverbed. I have very strong arms, and will help you.’
They made their way to the river, but, before reaching it, stumbled across some of their friends who had died of thirst. This made them very serious and determined.
When they reached the river, the sun was very hot and they were very tired. The koala suggested that the kangaroo should start digging, as he knew most about it.
The kangaroo went to work with a will, and dug a deep hole, but no signs of water were visible.
The kangaroo was exhausted with his work, and asked his friend to help him. The koala was very cunning, and said: ‘I would help you, but I am feeling very ill; the sun is very hot, and I am afraid I am going to die.’ The kangaroo was very sorry for his friend, and set to work again without complaining.
At last, his work was rewarded. A trickle of water appeared in the bottom of the hole, and gradually increased until it filled it to overflowing. The kangaroo went over to his friend, and, touching him gently on the shoulder, said: ‘I have discovered water, and will bring some to you.’
Then the koala dashed straight to the waterhole without even replying to the surprised kangaroo. When the koala bent down to drink the water, his tail stuck out like a dry stick. The kangaroo, who could now see the despicable cunning of his friend, was very angry, and, seizing his boomerang, cut off the tail of the drinker as it projected above the waterhole.
To this day, the koala has no tail as evidence of his former laziness and cunning.
BUNYIPS
Bunyips are creatures that lurk in swamps, creeks, waterholes and riverbeds, emerging at night, often with terrifying cries and blood-curdling screams, devouring any animal or human venturing near their home. It is said that women are their favourite prey, most likely because they are more defenceless.
Descriptions of the bunyip vary greatly—from a gorilla-type animal, to half-human-half-animal, to similar to a fish, with scales. Some reports say the bunyip has fur or feathers, a long neck and tail or even claws and horns. Scientists suggest it may be a Diprotodon, which became extinct about 20,000 years ago.
The existence of bunyips was taken very seriously by the white settlers in colonial times. Out in the bushland at night, hearing strange, loud noises, they were sure that the bunyip was out there, waiting to attack them.
In Geelong, in 1845, the unfossilised knee joint of an enormous animal was found. A local Aborigine identified it as a bunyip bone and drew a picture of the bunyip. Around that time, a woman claimed that her mother was killed by a bunyip at Barwon Lakes, just a few miles from Geelong. There are reports of other women being killed at the Barwon River where the barge crossed to South Geelong.
Many Australians now do not believe in the bunyip and disregard it as being purely mythological. There are some though, who still believe the creature exists.
Certainly one of the troopers at the siege of Glenrowan believed in the monster. When Ned Kelly emerged from the mist dressed in armour and an overcoat, complete with his famous steel helmet, the reporters present later wrote that someone shouted, ‘It’s a ghost!’ The troopers opened fire and the bullets bounced off Ned, and Senior Constable Kelly reportedly cried out, ‘Look out, boys, it’s the bunyip. He’s bullet-proof!’
JH
THE BUNYIP
JAMES DEVANEY
Oh, came you up by the place of dread
(West red, and the moon low down)
where no winds blow and the birds have fled
and the gum stands dead and its arms gleam white,
and the tribe sneak by with a stealthy tread
in the ghostly light, in the ghostly light.
Brave Worraland went one grey nightfall
(A woi! woi!) where the grim rocks frown;
he came no more to the camps at all
(Skies dark, and the moon low down).
As we came up by the gully side
(Deep dusk, and the moon low down)
A Dingo whined and a Curlew cried
and the reeds replied as in hushed affright
where tall brave Worraland screamed and died
in the ghostly light, in the ghostly light.
For the Thing lurks there in the haunted place
(A woi! woi!) where the pool is brown,
where lost ones vanish and leave no trace
(Day dead, and the moon low down).
Oh, go not by near the bunyip’s lair
(Stars dim, and the moon low down)
or tip-toe past and beware, beware
the dark pool snare and be set for flight,
for things of terror have happened there
in the ghostly light, in the ghostly light
and in the gunyas we crouch and hark
(A woi! woi!) where the dead men drown
the monster’s bellow across the dark
(Stars gone, and the moon low down).
SEVEN SISTERS
TRADITIONAL/JENKYN THOMAS
In the Dreamtime, many ages ago, the cluster of stars, which we now know as the Pleiades, or the Seven Sisters, were seven beautiful ice maidens. Their parents were a great rugged mountain whose dark head was hidden in the clouds, and an ice-cold stream that flowed from the snow-clad hills.
The Seven Sisters wandered across the land, with their long hair flying behind them like storm clouds before the breeze. Their cheeks were flushed with the kiss of the sun, and in their eyes was hidden the soft, grey light of the dawn. So entrancing was their beauty, that all men loved them, but the maidens’ affections were as cold as the stream which gave them birth, and they never turned aside in their wanderings to gladden the hearts of men.
One day a man named Wurrunnah, by a cunning device, captured two of the maidens, and forced them to live with him, while their five sisters travelled to their home in the sky. When Wurrunnah discovered that the sisters whom he had captured were ice maidens, whose beautiful tresses were like the icicles that drooped from the trees in wintertime, he was disappointed. So he took them to a camp fire, and endeavoured to melt the cold crystals from their beautiful limbs. But, as the ice melted, the water quenched the fire, and he succeeded only in dimming their icy brightness.
The two sisters were very lonely and sad in their captivity, and longed for their home in the clear blue sky. When the shadow of night was over the land, they could see their five sisters beckoning to them as they twinkled afar off. One day, Wurrunnah told them to gather pine-bark in the forest. After a short journey, they came to a great pine tree, and commenced to strip the bark from it. As they did so, the pine tree (which belonged to the same totem as the maidens) extended itself to the sky. The maidens took advantage of this friendly act, and climbed to the home of their sisters. But they never regained their original brightness, and that is the reason why there are five bright stars and two dim ones in the group of the Pleiades.
The Seven Sisters have not forgotten the earth folk. When the snow falls softly, they loose their wonderful tresses to the caress of the breeze, to remi
nd us of their journey across our land.
When the Seven Sisters were on earth, of all the men who loved them, the Berai Berai, or two brothers, were the most faithful. When they hunted in the forest, or waited in the tall reeds for the wild ducks, they always brought the choicest morsels of the chase as an offering to the sisters. When the maidens wandered far across the mountains, the Berai Berai followed them, but their love was not favoured.
When the maidens set out on their long journey to the sky, the Berai Berai were grieved, and said: ‘Long have we loved you and followed in your footsteps, O maidens of the dawn, and, when you have left us, we will hunt no more.’ And they laid aside their weapons and mourned for the maidens until the dark shadow of death fell upon them. When they died, the spirits pitied them, and placed them in the sky, where they could hear the sisters singing. Thus were they happily rewarded for their constancy. On a starry night, you will see them listening to the song of the Seven Sisters. We call them Orion’s Sword and Belt, but it is a happier thought to remember them as the faithful lovers who have listened to the song of the stars from the birth of time.
THE LEGEND OF FISHER’S GHOST
Four months after the mysterious disappearance of local farmer, Fred Fisher, in 1826, a respected and honest settler, John Farley, arrived at a local hotel in a state of shock.
In one version of the story it is said John claimed he had seen the ghost of Fred Fisher sitting on the rail of a bridge over a creek. The ghost pointed to a paddock down the creek then faded away. The body of Fred Fisher was later discovered in the paddock where the ghost had pointed.
The other version says Farley reported seeing a ‘ghostly figure’ sitting on the bridge railing. Investigations showed blood on the bridge at the point where Farley saw the spectre and a tracker was brought in and said he smelled ‘white man fat’ under the bridge. The body was found in a deep hole in the creek near the bridge.
Frederick George James Fisher was born in London in 1792. He was a shopkeeper and, either innocently or deliberately, obtained forged banknotes through his business. In 1815, Fred was sentenced to fourteen years’ transportation to Australia. In 1822, he applied for a ticket of leave and secured a property at Campbelltown.
In 1825, Fred had an argument with a local carpenter and received a light prison sentence. Worried about his farm, Fred gave his neighbour, George Worrall, power of attorney during his sentence but, after his release in June 1826, Fred disappeared and George Worrall announced that he’d sailed for England. Three weeks later, George sold Fred’s house and belongings. In September 1826, George Worrall was arrested on suspicion of Fred’s murder. During the trial stories of the ghost emerged and George confessed—even though the tale of the ghostly sighting could not be told in court, as stories of the supernatural were not permitted in a court of law.
Worrall was hanged at The Rocks.
JH
THE BUNYIP AND THE WHISTLING KETTLE
JOHN MANIFOLD
I knew a most superior camper
Whose methods were absurdly wrong,
He did not live on tea and damper
But took a little stove along.
And every place he came to settle
He spread with gadgets saving toil,
He even had a whistling kettle
To warn him it was on the boil.
Beneath the waratahs and wattles,
Boronia and coolibah,
He scattered paper, cans and bottles,
And parked his nasty little car.
He camped, this sacrilegious stranger
(The moon was at the full that week),
Once in a spot that teemed with danger
Beside a bunyip-haunted creek.
He spread his junk but did not plunder,
Hoping to stay the weekend long;
He watched the bloodshot sun go under
Across the silent billabong.
He ate canned food without demurring,
He put the kettle on for tea.
He did not see the water stirring
Far out beside a sunken tree.
Then, for the day had made him swelter
And night was hot and tense to spring,
He donned a bathing-suit in shelter,
And left the firelight’s friendly ring.
He felt the water kiss and tingle.
He heard the silence—none too soon!
A ripple broke against the shingle,
And dark with blood it met the moon.
Abandoned in the hush, the kettle
Screamed as it guessed its master’s plight,
And loud it screamed, the lifeless metal,
Far into the malicious night.
WHY THE CROW IS BLACK
TRADITIONAL/JENKYN THOMAS
One day, a crow and a hawk hunted together in the bush. After travelling together for some time, they decided to hunt in opposite directions, and, at the close of the day, to share whatever game they had caught.
The crow travelled against the sun, and at noon arrived at a broad lagoon, which was the haunt of the wild ducks. The crow hid in the tall green reeds fringing the lagoon, and prepared to trap the ducks.
First, he got some white clay, and, having softened it with water, placed two pieces in his nostrils. He then took a long piece of hollow reed through which he could breathe under water, and finally tied a net bag around his waist in which to place the ducks.
On the still surface of the lagoon, the tall gum trees were reflected like a miniature forest. The ducks, with their bronze plumage glistening in the sun, were swimming among the clumps of reeds, and only paused to dive for a tasty morsel hidden deep in the waterweeds.
The crow placed the reed in his mouth, and, without making any sound, waded into the water. He quickly submerged himself, and the only indication of his presence in the lagoon was a piece of dry reed which projected above the surface of the water, and through which the crow was breathing. When he reached the centre of the waterhole he remained perfectly still. He did not have to wait long for the ducks to swim above his head. Then, without making any sound or movement, he seized one by the leg, quickly pulled it beneath the water, killed it, and placed it in the net bag.
By doing this, he did not frighten the other ducks, and, in a short time he had trapped a number of them. He then left the lagoon and continued on his way until he came to a river.
The crow was so pleased with his success at the waterhole that he determined to spear some fish before he returned to his camp. He left the bag of ducks on the bank of the river, and, taking his fish spear, he waded into the river until the water reached his waist. Then he stood very still, with the spear poised for throwing.
A short distance from the spot where he was standing, a slight ripple disturbed the calm surface of the water. With the keen eye of the hunter, he saw the presence of fish, and, with a swift movement of his arm, he hurled the spear, and his unerring aim was rewarded with a big fish. Many fish soon agitated the water, and the crow took advantage of this to spear many more. With this heavy load of game, he turned his face towards home.
The hawk was very unfortunate in his hunting. He stalked a kangaroo many miles, and then lost sight of it in the thickly wooded hills. He then decided to try the river for some fish, but the crow had made the water muddy and frightened the fish, so again he was unsuccessful.
At last the hawk decided to return to his gunyah with the hope that the crow would secure some food, which they had previously agreed to share. When the hawk arrived, he found that the crow had been there before him and had prepared and eaten his evening meal.
He at once noticed that the crow had failed to leave a share for him. This annoyed the hawk, so he approached the crow and said: ‘I see you have had a good hunt today. I walked many miles but could not catch even a lizard. I am tired and would be glad to have my share of food, as we agreed this morning.’
‘You are too lazy,’ the crow replied. ‘You must have slept in the sun ins
tead of hunting for food. Anyhow, I’ve eaten mine and cannot give you any.’
This made the hawk very angry, and he attacked the crow. For a long time they struggled around the dying embers of the camp fire, until the hawk seized the crow and rolled him in the black ashes.
When the crow recovered from the fight, he found that he could not wash the ashes off, and, since that time, crows have always been black. The crow was also punished for hiding the food which he could not eat by being condemned to live on putrid flesh.
THE TANTANOOLA TIGER
The story goes that, in the early 1880s, a circus camped between Millicent and Mount Gambier, in south-east South Australia, discovered that a Bengal tiger had escaped; they reported this to the police. In the early 1890s, sheep began disappearing from the Tantanoola area and the tiger was blamed; one person saw an animal carrying a fully grown sheep in its mouth.
Tantanoola was besieged by tiger mania. Children were given shotgun escort to and from school. Guns were kept at the ready. In August 1895, Tom Donovan shot the Tantanoola Tiger 20 kilometres from town. A taxidermist in Mount Gambier identified it as an Assyrian or Russian wolf believed to have come from one of the three ships wrecked immediately off the coast between 1890 to 1893. You can see it in the pub at Tantanoola. It is quite harmless—it’s stuffed!
Despite the shooting of the Tantanoola tiger, sheep continued being killed until Adelaide detective, Herbert Allchurch, arrested local trapper, Charlie Edmunson, who, at his trial in 1911, admitted to the theft of over 4000 sheep over twenty years. He had sold the skins and left the carcasses to rot. He got six years’ hard labour in January 1911 and the Tantanoola tiger never struck again.
Australia has many large, mysterious cats, including the Jamberoo tiger, the Lithgow panther, the Cordering cougar and the Grampians puma. The beast of Buderim and the Cowra cougar are often said to be cougars which were brought over by American troops as mascots. There is no record of this ever happening.
