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Chapter 35: Ungulate, Canine and Feline Thoughts
Assembling next morning, the Motley Crew hears Raow ’s report and Rusty’s update.
The hubbub of quiet discussion melds a sweet lilt of readit-readit, oink-oink, baa-baa, cluckcluck, moo-moo and quackity-quack …
Ginger says, “At last we know what must be dealt with. Questions. What are our resources? How do we get to the island; and what warning will we have? Jo. What can you tell us about the island’s western terrain? And your experience last time, might it be conjured again?”
Jo explains, “The west face is rugged country, very steep and exposed. There’s little vegetation; it’s stunted and not suitable for concealment, except perhaps under cover of darkness, but I ’m certain they’ll not come at night. It’s too risky with two boats close together.
Besides they ’ll want to set traps and nets and establish camp before dark. The landing places lead to some reasonably flat, clear areas from pocket-handkerchief small, to a quarter of a football field in size. On these sites we’ll meet them and they’ll be very well organised I’m sure.”
Jo continues, “Reflecting on what happened to me, I reckon one may prepare for such events only in a general sense. Apart from readiness to participate because of inclination, past experi ence, or a sense of daring enterprise, there’s no training. Adventures like this come unbidden… a voice in my head! There’s a slim chance of it happening again. I certainly can’t conjure such an occurrence from my resources. I believe the short answer is, that we have only ourselves to rely upon. Perhaps we’ve been chosen and thrown into this business as some kind of test. In which case, what are the rules to play out the game? I suspect this information will be revealed to us over time, and we’ll try to understand.
“Ginger, would you like me to comment on our resources?” asks Jo. “Okay. We’re an assortment of cats, dogs, frogs and cattle. There are also goats, horses, pigs, chooks, ducks and sheep in our family. We have many friends to call upon for assistance. Considering the landscape, goats, dogs and cats will be the best defenders.”
Jo pauses, and in an instant Stanley leaps to his feet. With a vigorous bow he declaims, “Us goats are ready. We’re only a small group resident here, but we have friends in high places.”
Stanley, with his right leg raised, punches “high places” a number of times in rapid-fire succession. “We are, they are, sure-footed brave characters. Every day these mountain goats face danger in high rugged country. We are the perfect choice for a first line of attack. We ’ll show them bunting at its international, gold medal, world record winning best. Yay for goats, give us the job!”
“You should stand for parliament,” says Ginger. “With short powerful speeches like that.
What accord is there with Stan’s proposal to let the goats lead from the front?

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“Marvellous. Now what about the dogs and cats?”
Bess launches a litany of the dog’s qualifications… “And,” she says, “Look what we did in the team hunting rats and stoats. And do you rememb er the time Johnny did his ‘savage dog’ act? He took the seat out of the pants of those suspicious characters that came around more than once, offering to paint the roof. Shifty they were – unkempt, and there was no gear on their ute. Besides, they smelt s omething awful… stinking the place out they were. ‘Savage dog.’ We can all do it, and we will. We’re with the ungulates all the way!”
Prancing tall, Bess claps her front paws together, raising her pads to the roof, and inciting riotous, frenzied full volume barking from Boss, Scoobie, and Terror in deep hunt-away baritone; Johnny the tenor lead harmonising with Ben and Blue. Heading a sublime soprano melody line, Joy’s section is underpinned by Bess’ rich contralto. But the icing on the cake, the crème-de-la-crème are Basil and Basha overarching every other voice together in fine, flute-like counter-tenor alto.
Furious applause…
In this atmosphere of palpable excitement touching on fanaticism, every member of the
Motley Crew runs on high-octane fuel. The pugnacious air of entitlement dispersed by the goats and dogs, spools twin turbos of desire and danger, force-feeding a rampaging passion.
Pandemonium rules until Molly, the brindled cow, finally settles things down. Rendering a fine bel canto she massages the group towards calmness, good sense, and rationality. The dogs settle – panting, but resting at ease.
Basha, uncomprehending says “IN. We‘re there. IN the team to tackle the smugglers.”
She continues muttering loudly, “smugglers,” worrying the word and the idea, her strong neck muscles bulging with every headshake and repetition. Her leg, still in plaster from the stoat foray, Basha lies like a queen on a small pallet. With no end to her enthusiasm, other words occur to her and she rattles them off …”Buccaneers, marauders, plunderers, despoilers, and raptorial thieves… Deal to the lot of them I say … Let me at them, here we come – we can do it, we will prevail. I ’ll be back on deck a week from now, plaster be damned…”
Basha raves on, oblivious to Hermit somersaulting to his feet eager to explore the possibilities for the cats. . “Us felines,” he says, “We’re agile and will keep out of the way, while goats and dogs ‘do the business.’ But we’ll leap and cling with fang and claw to their legs, which will give them a nasty wakeup and distract them.”
The great hall goes silent.
Phantaloom and Ginger put their heads together in conclave. Ginger says, “Here’s what we’ll do. Two each of the goats and dogs will be ready to attack from hiding at each site. Two c ats will join the action, as they are able. That’s enough to think about for now. Everyone here tonight, with all young ones present to listen to what their parents are getting involved in.”

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* * *
Later … As the sun dips below the horizon, Stanley stands very erect. From this his tower-like stance, he scans slowly, his intense gaze touches everyone. It emphasises the soft, cornelian-hued expectant calm. He lowers his head, butting the air and emitting a strange vibrating yodel. “That ululating cry, my friends, is used to gather the mountain dwellers when something of great importance is afoot. Awaiting a further signal to gather with us are ten volunteers. The finest, most sure-footed defenders of the cause will join Billy and myself, with two for each site. We all appreciate there is to be no trophy taking, no feasting on any vegetation, succulent or otherwise! So, my friends, we are ready to travel and act.”
Stan and Billy, necks outstretched and beards a’quiver; invoke in duet the plaintive, haunting call.
Through the reticent hush, Phantaloom says, “Stanley and Billy, we’re pleased you’re on our side. We cannot fail with you and your peers in our front line. Dogs, a brief report please.”
“We easily recruited Hash, Jock, Mac, Titch, Beaux, and other canine friends who are keen to join the fray. But we’re mindful that we may have a ‘tiger by the tail.’ We’ll try and avoid the mind-slip to over-enthusiasm and really savaging these people. Of course, if it’s no holds barred, we’ll know no bounds, fighting to the death if needed. We’ll cover all this in training,” says Bess as she sits.
Cats come next, and Hermit says, “We have our quota filled. Masses of my mates signed up. Some may not seem like fighters, but training and enthusiasm will carry the day.”
The leaders confer and Ginger says, “We know what we are up against. But, and it’s a big but … even bigger than Stan, Billy and the kids can handle! How do we get to the island? In particular, how do we do it at what may be very short notice? That’s the question. Here is a suggestion box. Rack your brains and please report every idea. Let’s see what your young ones have to say; because they may think of something we miss. D o the ‘brainstorming’ thing. Wild; wacky; practical; sensible or whatever, let ’s have it all. In writing, in this box by 10 am tomorrow.”