Howie the Yowie

by Pat Clarke

  There was a grunt that sounded like ‘Yes.’

  ‘Would you like some chocolate cake?’

  Now there was a double grunt that sounded like ‘Yes please!’

  Mary cut a generous wedge of chocolate cake and placed it on the front doormat. By morning, the cake was gone and the plate licked clean.

  Hannah was thrilled that her mother had finally accepted Howie, but her father had not been so easily persuaded.

  Jim Richards hadn’t quite forgiven the creature for running off with his best hat and tie, even though they were safely returned the next day. What bothered him most, he explained to his wife and daughter, was the fact that Yowies had such a bad reputation.

  ‘And you can’t be too careful when you’re dealing with wild animals!’ he warned.

  But one day, quite unexpectedly, Hannah’s father changed his mind.

  The timber cutter had gone off early one morning to fell a tree in the forest. What he didn’t know was that the one he planned to cut down was riddled with borers.

  Howie the Yowie knew a lot about borer beetles and where they liked to hide out. He loved to scoop out the little white grubs and eat them with mint leaves and a sprinkling of wild parsley—yum! Howie also knew that this particular tree had been a favourite munching place for borers. Its trunk was rotten right through, making it very dangerous. For his new friend Hannah’s sake, Howie kept a close watch over her father as he began his work.

  But all his worries were for nothing, Howie thought with relief as he watched Hannah’s father skilfully swinging his axe over and over. The tree remained quite stable and the timber cutter was safe. Then came the final blow. It was nearly done.

  Hannah’s father gave it all his strength, sending his axe deep into the centre of the trunk. As always, he remembered to step well back, and he waited for the big tree to fall away from him. Right at the last minute, however, the tree gave a sudden twist and swung around crazily, not dropping to the expected spot but falling backwards to where the axeman stood. Howie yelled out in alarm and bounded forward, scooping Hannah’s father up in his arms and diving out of harm’s way. At the very last moment, a thick branch splintered off the trunk and knocked Howie flying. He instinctively cradled the timber cutter in his arms, protecting him with his body as he was thrown heavily to the ground.

  Howie was completely still, knocked unconscious from the fall.

  After a moment, Hannah’s father crawled out from under the creature’s heavy body and lay on the forest floor, trying to catch his breath. It suddenly dawned on him that this “monster” had saved his life! He sat up and looked at Howie with new respect and wondered how he could ever have feared this gentle giant. Then he saw the blood oozing from a gash above those bushy dark brows. With shaking hands, Jim pressed his handkerchief against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. There he sat, cradling the Yowie’s head in his arms, until Howie regained consciousness.

  First one eye opened, and then the other. The two looked at each other and smiled.

  It was the start of a new friendship.

  After a while, they stood up and, supporting each other like wounded soldiers, slowly limped back to the cottage.

  From that day on, any doubts Jim Richards may have had about the Yowie were finally dispelled. He knew he owed his life to Howie, who had risked his own safety to help him that day.

  Perhaps there would come a time when he’d get a chance to repay that debt.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Stranger

  ‘Someone’s coming, Mama.’

  Mary Richards looked up in surprise. Who could it be? Wiping her floury hands on her apron, she joined her daughter on the verandah. Hannah pointed to a cloud of dust in the distance as it slowly wended its way towards them.

  ‘It’s probably the new neighbours. I invited them to call when they’d settled in. Run down to the paddock like a good girl and tell Dad we’ve got visitors. Ask him to come up for a cuppa.’

  As Mary watched, the cloud of dust gradually thinned enough to reveal a man on horseback. He pulled up at the gate, dismounted, tied the reins to a fence post and swaggered up to the bottom of the verandah steps.

  ‘G’day, missus,’ he said. ‘Scarfie’s my name. I’m lookin’ for a bloke called Jim Richards.’

  Mary leaned over the rail and silently eyed the stranger standing below. He wasn’t one of their new neighbours after all. He was a dirty, scruffy-looking fellow with greasy hair, a straggly handlebar moustache and a vivid purple scar down one side of his face. I’m glad Jim’s not far away, she thought. I don’t much like the look of this Scarfie fellow.

  ‘I’m Mary Richards and Jim’s my husband. What do you want him for?’

  ‘I heard tell he’s a pretty good tracker.’

  ‘Why, yes … he is. Is someone lost?’

  ‘Nah … I want him to track a … kind of animal.’ He was climbing the steps now, and Mary took a pace backwards.

  ‘What do you mean by a kind of animal?’ asked Mary suspiciously.

  ‘Well ...’ he said, looking around furtively and lowering his voice, ‘I heard there’s been sightings of an ape man in these parts. You know … one of them Yowies.’

  Mary gasped. Her thoughts immediately turned to Howie. He was in danger!

  ‘Yeah, missus, I know. Scary creatures, they are.’

  He had mistaken her reaction for fear. Mary knew she would have to be more careful or the man might suspect something.

  She pulled herself together and laughed nervously. ‘Oh, you’ve been listening to old Tom Jackson, haven’t you? He claimed he saw a Yowie in the forest once. But you can’t take any notice of him … he’s been known to see pink elephants when he’s had too much grog. Besides, there’s no such thing as Yowies or ape men. They’re all nonsense— just made up stories!’

  ‘Oh no, they’re not,’ insisted the stranger, his hands on his hips. ‘There’s evidence of them everywhere—all over the world. They’ve got different names; that’s all … like Big Foot and the Abominable Snowman and the Yeti! Anyway,’ he claimed triumphantly, ‘I’ve seen one for meself. Matter of fact ...’ he paused dramatically and leaned closer to Mary, ‘I’ve seen a whole family of them! A male and a female; with a baby!’

  Mary could barely hide her astonishment.

  ‘Where … whereabouts were they?’

  ‘Up in the Blue Mountains.’

  Mary looked sceptical and placed her hands on her hips. ‘Well, if that’s the case, why are you looking for a Yowie here? Why aren’t you in the Blue Mountains, tracking down the ones you’ve seen … instead of coming all the way here on the strength of a rumour started by the local drunk. It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘If you’ve ever been to the Blue Mountains, missus, you’ll know why,’ he replied indignantly. ‘It’s a real jungle up there. People get lost and they’re never found again. Very wild, treacherous country; impossible to track anything there.’

  Mary turned gratefully at the sound of voices. It was Jim and Hannah. As quickly as she could, she explained the reason for the stranger’s presence.

  Before she had even finished, he interrupted her. ‘See … if we caught a Yowie, you’d be famous, mister. You wouldn’t need to chop down trees to make a quid. Could get yourself a cushy little job as a police tracker.’ The man called Scarfie narrowed his eyes and added, ‘Tell you what … I’ll pay you ten shillings a day, as well as a bonus of twenty pounds if we catch one. So … what do you say to that?’

  ‘Well,’ said Jim Richards, in his slow, thoughtful manner, ‘I’d say it was a complete waste of money on your part. Anyway, if you did happen to find one, I’m curious to know what you’d do with it. Kill it, or what?’

  ‘Kill it? No way, mate—not if I could help it. There’s more money to be had from capturing these things alive. People pay big money to come and look at them. There’s a bloke in Sydney who collects all kinds of freaky animals and people, and he shows them at carnivals and such. So many queer thi
ngs, you’d never believe it—like a six-legged sheep and this all-white kangaroo that they call an albino. And have you heard about the famous tattooed lady? She’s got every inch of her body covered in tattoos … that’s what they reckon, anyway …’ Scarfie rolled his eyes suggestively. ‘There’s even a bearded lady … and the elephant man, who’s so ugly, he has to wear a sack over his head!’ The man grinned, exposing his rotten teeth. ‘Why, it gives you such a good laugh to see things like that.’

  Mary and Jim looked at each other in dismay. The thought of the dreadful fate that could befall Howie if he somehow fell into this man’s clutches was just too much to bear.

  Hannah burst into tears. ‘Well, I think you’re a horrible man! I hope you never, ever catch a Yowie or anything else in your whole life!’ she cried, running into the house.

  Jim Richards was oddly calm. His wife noticed that he had a rather curious expression on his face—one that usually meant he was making an effort to control his temper.

  After a moment, he turned to the stranger and shrugged. ‘Fine. If you’ve got money to throw away, I’ll help you do it,’ he said lightly. ‘But I’m a busy man. If you’re so set on this wild goose chase then let’s start the day after tomorrow. I’m only willing to give you two days of my time on this pointless exercise. But even two days should be enough to convince you that there’s no such thing as a Yowie in the Goonoo.’

  The stranger nodded and took his leave. ‘Right-o,’ he said. ‘See ya Tuesday, then.’

  The couple watched as the evil-looking Scarfie mounted his horse and rode away, eventually disappearing from sight.

  Mary turned to her husband, a worried look on her face. ‘What on earth are you up to, Jim? You’re surely not going to help him catch Howie!’

  Jim put his arms around her and kissed her gently. ‘Of course not. But I thought it would be better if I was the one doing the tracking … not someone else! This way, I can make sure that Howie is safe. We’ll get Hannah to warn him tomorrow to stay hidden until this Scarfie fellow has left the district. She can take Howie some food and water so he can lie low until we give him the all-clear.’ Jim gave his wife a final hug before entering the house. ‘I’d better go and let Hannah know the plan. I hate seeing her so upset.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Capture

  It was several days later. Jim Richards stood in the cosy kitchen, warming himself by the pot belly stove and drinking a mug of hot chicken soup. He yawned and had a big, big stretch.

  ‘Well, Mary, dear,’ he said with a chuckle, ‘I think I’ve convinced that rascal Scarfie that there are no Yowies in the forest. I’ve really worked him hard over the past two days. I’m completely worn out myself, so heaven knows how he’s feeling. Absolutely wrecked, I hope!’ Jim blew lightly onto the soup before taking another sip. ‘He was complaining about blisters on his feet yesterday and this morning he seemed a bit under the weather. Ha! Two days of hunting and all he’s managed to catch is a cold! With a bit of luck, he’ll be leaving the area tomorrow. One thing’s for sure, though—he’s certainly had enough of tracking!’

  ‘Did you find out why he’s called Scarfie?’ asked Mary.

  ‘It’s a nickname—to do with that scar on his face. He seems quite proud of it—got it in a fight of some kind. According to him, the man with the blade got off much worse than he did. Well … that’s his version of the story. It’s hard to believe a word the man says. Anyway, I’m glad to be rid of him. The sooner he goes back to Sydney Town the better, as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘What about Howie?’

  ‘Well, he’d better stay in hiding for a while longer. We’ll send Hannah tomorrow morning with a message telling him to stay put until we’re sure it’s safe. It’s not worth taking the risk. That bloke Scarfie is as slippery and slimy as an eel! I’d go myself, but I promised young Joe Maloney I’d have a look at that old cow of his—it’s pretty poorly and you know how fond he is of it.’

  Mary nodded. Thank goodness all this would soon be over. She knew how worried Hannah was, and she felt sorry for Howie as well. Hiding from hunters day after day must be terrible for him.

  Mary washed up the soup mugs and checked on Hannah before turning down the lamps and following her husband to bed. It had been a long and eventful day.

  After breakfast the next morning, Hannah helped her mother pack a small basket of goodies for Howie. There were chocolate-chip cookies, some pieces of fruit and a small bottle of lime cordial. Hannah popped in a couple of picture books for him, too. They discussed the type of message they should send him. As Howie was a very poor reader, Hannah’s mother insisted that the note should be simple but also very clear. They worked on the message together and, when finished, placed it in an envelope marked “HOWIE”. Hannah put the envelope in her basket, gave her mother a quick kiss and a wave goodbye and headed down the track towards the forest.

  Her father had come up with a good plan for keeping the Yowie safe thought Hannah, as she clambered over logs and ducked under overhanging branches. As long as there was any risk of being discovered, Howie was to remain hidden during the day and only to come out at night to retrieve messages and food, which would be left in a secret hiding spot. This special place was the hollow stump of the tree that recently had almost claimed her father’s life.

  Now, if everything had gone according to plan, things would have turned out fine. Howie would have come out after dark, read the note and returned to his lair.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t happen quite like that.

  Hannah’s father had been right not to trust Scarfie, but he was wrong in thinking that this man had had enough of tracking. For all his faults, the rascal did not give up quite so easily.

  Scarfie was quite suspicious of the timber cutter and his wife. He was sure they were hiding something. He’d noticed several anxious glances passing between them and the wife was forever prattling on about the Blue Mountains and some place in Queensland where supposedly there’d been Yowie sightings. Couldn’t make up her mind, that one! On the one hand she was pushing for him to go and search up there, while on the other hand, she kept insisting there were no such things as Yowies—and certainly none in the Goonoo!

  Something was definitely up, he thought, but he didn’t know what that something was! So he decided to keep an eye on the family a bit longer … just in case.

  That morning he watched as the timber cutter kissed his wife goodbye and rode off down the road, heading towards the village. Next, the little girl, Hannah, appeared. Carrying a picnic basket over her arm, she skipped off towards the forest.

  ‘Well, now,’ smirked Scarfie to himself, ‘she’s a real Little Red Riding Hood, isn’t she? Wonder who she’s going off to see. Maybe it’s her grandmother … or maybe it’s the Big Bad Wolf!’

  He followed Hannah closely, dodging behind trees and bushes to make sure she didn’t spot him. The girl hurried through the forest and eventually stopped at a tree stump. Here she emptied the contents of her basket, looked around quickly to make sure she hadn’t been seen and then scampered back home again.

  Now this is really interesting, thought the hidden watcher. I wonder who’s going to pick up those goodies.

  He waited in the bushes all day long, but nobody turned up.

  Finally Scarfie could stand it no longer. He was hungry and thirsty and cold. He crept up to the hollow tree stump to find out exactly what was stashed there. He found cookies, cordial and story books. And … an envelope addressed to someone called Howie!

  It wasn’t sealed, so he was able to remove the note, which was printed in big letters:

  BEWARE! DANGER!

  YOWIE HUNTER WITH GUN!

  U MUST HIDE

  Underneath this message was a sketch of a large hairy monster and a man hiding behind a tree, holding a long black rifle.

  There was another sheet of paper folded into the envelope. It was a crayon drawing of a small girl holding hands with a monster! Beneath it were the words:
r />   HOWIE + HANNAH

  Friends Forever XXX

  Scarfie punched the air excitedly with his fist. Yes! He knew it! So there was a Yowie after all. And they’d been hiding him all this time. Well, well, well.

  He replaced the note, thought for a while, and then removed the cork from the bottle of cordial. Thirsty as he was, he chose not to drink. Instead, he took a handful of small, white sleeping pills from his pocket. He dropped them into the liquid, shook the bottle to dissolve the tablets, and replaced the cork. Then, looking around to make sure he was still alone, he returned it to its hiding place. Though the cookies looked very tempting, Scarfie decided he wasn’t hungry any longer. He was much too excited to think about food.

  Satisfied with his efforts, he returned to his hiding place and settled down to watch and wait.

  It was chilly and damp in the forest. The trees were tall and close together, keeping out the sunshine. Not only that, but it was getting pretty late and soon it would be too dark to see. Scarfie was freezing. He kicked himself for not bringing a warm coat and gloves. He was bound to get a bad dose of the flu out of all this. But it would be worth it, he kept telling himself. It would be well worth it if he finally managed to capture a Yowie, even if he did get pneumonia in the process. Still, something had better happen soon before he turned into a block of ice and couldn’t move at all.

  Just when he had given up hope and was about to scramble out from his hiding place to find somewhere warm, he heard something—a shuffling noise. Suddenly, a bulky figure loomed out of the darkness and headed towards the tree stump. Scarfie’s jaw dropped open in amazement.

  It was huge! It was hairy! It was a real live Yowie!

  Scarfie could hardly believe his luck.

  The creature grunted with pleasure as it examined the items the little girl had left. Then, with a contented sigh, the Yowie sat down on a log and began to eat some of the cookies. Next, it opened the bottle of cordial. Scarfie held his breath. He hoped the strong lime flavour would cover the smell and taste of the sleeping pills he had thrown in. But there was no need to worry. The Yowie took a big swig, swallowed another cookie and finally polished off the remaining drink.