Eagle Eye
p. 45 · Read in the full issue
By Bill Smith
ME mate called ’im “Eagle Eye,” an’
Eagle Eye ’e was, ever since.
We was up roun’ Wareo way, look in’ fer some coons fer the claim, when we comes right on top of Eagle Eye sittin ’down under a big tree and lookin’ up at the sky.
“Look, Joe,” I says to me mate. “There’s a bloke that’s ‘long-long’—must be one of them deserters from the Yanks.”
So I goes up to Eagle Eye, an’ I says, polite-like, “ ’Ow’s it goin’, an’ ow’s the stars this beutiful spring mornin?” ’E gits up right away an, ’all smilin, ’e comes over to me and outs out ’is paw an’ says in a very refined voice, “I am very well, indeed, thank you,’’ an’ ’e re marked on the weather an’ I could see right away that ’e was a bloke what ’ad ’ad some schoolin’.
“I am collecting birds for the Taronga Park Zoo,” ’e went on. an’ ’e said there was more birds around than there ever was before the war an ’all the zoos all over the world was singin’ out for them. ’E said the boys put some sticky stuff on the logs, and the birds got stuck an’ couldn’t get away.
Well, me mate an’ I thought 'e was puttin ’a swifty over. An’ then ’e goes on an ’says most of ’em was caught of a night when the boys went up tne trees with a shoot-lamp and catches ’em, while they was asleep.
Joe gives me a dig in the ribs an’ I winks me eye, an’ we still thought ’e might ’ave been one of them deserters what ‘ad fallen for the Maries or was shell shock or done something what ’e shouldn’t ’ave.
So ’e asks us to go down to ’is camp an’ ’e was fair dinkum alrite. for ’e had 40 odd birds in little wooden cages, and they was that wild they was flyin’ round and round, hittin ’their sharp-pointed beaks against the sides that much you could ’ear ’em a mile away.
Most of ’em was birds-of-paradise that me an’ Joe had seen a lot while we was out recrootin’, an’ ’e ’ad some very pretty little king-birds and some parrots and a white cuckatoo and a big, fat fowl, what was almost too ’eavy to fly an’ he said ’e was a Caskade. ’E used to get away on Eagle Eye now and agin, but ’e couldn’t fly much an ’e always managed to turn up again roun’ about kai time— ’e was an artful ole bird, alrite. But you should ’ave seen ’im when ’e was fly in slow and low: ’E ’ad a marvellous scarlet belly, an’ when ’e was perched in ’is cage ’e reminded me of some ’aughty duchess, ’e ’ad that cunnin’ look in ’is eye.
I ast Eagle Eye weren’t it cruel to keep them birds locked up, an’ ’e says ’twas alrite. When they got down to the zoo they would ’ave plenty of good kai an' be looked after an’ allowed to fly round a lot, an’ ’e says when they got old they never ’ad no enemies in the zoo to kill ’em off like they did in the bush an’ they never ad to fossick for their kai-kai.
OLD Eagle Eye was up at_ daybreak feedin’ them birds an’ cleanin’ out the cages, an’ ’e never stopped all day. The coons used to get presents for bringin ’in the birds, but they never ’eard of zoos, an’ they was always bringin’
in the big fat balus, for kai kai, an’ when Eagle Eye roused ’em an’ give a tomeawk for a tiny little, pretty bird, they reckoned ’e was long-long, an’ they couldn’t make it out at all. “Fashion belong ’im, ’ they used to say. ’E give the birds paw paw, corn, ants’ nests an’ pandanus an’ ’e said never get pandanus in a cut, for its pains near to Kill, so I won’t in future. Well, them birds did get through some kai alrite.
When ’e got down to Finsch, I ’eard the Navy used to give ’im dozens of eggs, an’ ’e used to mix ’em up with currants and biscuits an’ give ’em a regular blow-out.
They never died on ’im. ’e said. ’E told us all about Lord Rochchild who ’e collected for, an’ ’ow e was nuts on collectin’ anything, an’ ’ow e used to give a pound for a flea, if it was big enough.
Old Eagle Eye ’ad been all over the world collectin’ all sorts of birds an’ animals. ’E reckon ’e knew more about the birds in New Guinea than any coon. ’E didn’t like the boys this side—’e said the Papuan boys was better at catchin’ the birds.
So ’e shakes ’ands with me and Joe, an’
Joe forgets ’isself an ’says, ‘Good-bye, Eagle Eye, plesed ter ’ave met yer.”
“Ay, cut it out, Joe!” I says, an I gives ’im a nudge.
Joe says, “Sorry, Mr. Shaw Mayer,” 1 knew that was ’is name, for ’e put it in me book, so I could tell the missus.
An’ old Eagle Eye only laughed, like ’e always did, an’ ’e says, “That’s quite alrite, Joe, the natives call me much worse names than that.” ’E was a sport, alrite.