Shooting a Dinner in Fiji

By Amel

WE are not at all superstitious, but when an ancient, speckled hen began to raise her voice in a very good imitation of a rooster, we looked meaningly at each other, and someone murmured something about “whistling women and crowing hens” not being of much use to anyone . . .

At first, we tried tracking the offender with the aid of the four dogs. But as soon as we said, “Good dog! Fetch him!” the whole tribe simply ignored the bird and streaked away in full cry after Pansy, the cow.

“Faugh!” said Dad, disgustedly, they’re not worth a damn! I don’t know why we pay their licences!” He brought his small rifle from the corner and loaded it deliberately. “I’ll have a shot at it with this. Now, which bird is it, Mum?”

A speckled hen swaggered nonchalantly from under the cart.

“There!” said Mum, pointing, “that’s the one!” But just at Dad took careful aim, the target opened her beak and gave an unmistakeably henlike cackle.

“Just as well my eyesight is bad,” said Dad, grimly, “or you’d have been to morrow’s dinner. Here. Jack, you have a shot ... at the right bird, if you can find it.”

Jack took the gun and settled down to stalking the real culprit, who, by this time, was hiding coyly behind a lantana bush near the cow-yard, and was again preparing to give her perfect imitation of a rooster crowing.

The Boy Scout training of his youth came to the fore as Jack took advantage of all. available cover. We could scarcely distinguish him from a clump of kau moce. Our prospective dinner, never suspecting the menace that was lurking near, flapped her wings and stretched her neck. Jack pressed the trigger. The fowl stopped stretching, staggered a little, looked surprised . . . and strolled on!

“Oh, good shot!” we applauded, from the back door.

Jack, looking almost as dazed as the fowl, mopped his brow and took aim again. But three more shots were needed to disturb that fowl’s equilibrium. The sideline barracking was growing very intense when the fourth shot rang out; but it was only a whisner to what was heard when we found that all four bullets had hit the fowl!

Captain F. G. L. Holland, OBE, who was in charge of education in the Gil bert and Ellice Islands Colony until the Japanese invasion, is now Supervisor of Education in Tonga. A series of “Tonga Gazette” announcements during the past year, indicate considerable reorganisation and development.