crazy behaviour. Something I’d never heard him do before: was this him speaking or Harriet?
‘Trouble is,’ said Murph, ‘it allowed that Jim Black fella to make fun of what’s happening to the birds.’ He pointed to the paper. ‘Have you read this?’
I shook my head.
‘It looks like that Bryce Shreeves brought the disease into the country.’
‘How?’ I asked.
‘Eggs,’ replied Murph. He tapped the paper. ‘It says here they have found some egg shells which are different from the eggs his chooks lay. They’re doing tests. Seems like Shreeves could have got the eggs overseas. He’s just come back from a trip around the world. At least now he won’t be able to blame my birds.’
‘But that doesn’t make sense,’ I said, puzzled. ‘He wouldn’t want disease on his farm.’
‘No, but he
would
want new varieties of chooks that laid more eggs. Bet he was bypassing biosecurity by smuggling eggs through in his bags. He’d hatch them out here and nobody would know anything about it. Wouldn’t surprise me if they were genetically modified.’ Murph took a long drag on his cigarette. ‘Makes more sense than the alternative.’
‘What’s that?’
‘That migrating birds brought it here. But they have been coming here for thousands of years. Can’t see how all of a sudden they’d start bringing diseases with them. Would have happened before. And it hasn’t. No, mark my words. That Bryce Shreeves is the one to blame.’ A quick puff. ‘Mongrel!’ he added angrily. Then he started coughing. It was a horrible, rasping sound, as if parts of his lungs were hanging loose and flapping around in the tubes.
When he was like this there was nothing you could do to help. It would take him a minute or so to recover. I waited.
‘Come on,’ he wheezed as the coughing subsided. ‘Come and see what’s happening to my birds.’
‘Can I bring Harriet?’ asked Nick.
‘Yeah, sure. She likes going outside.’
‘What about the disease?’ I asked. ‘I’m happy to stay in here with her, while you go out.’
Murph shook his head. ‘No need for that, Danny. If she’s going to get the flu, then she already has. She’s been out with me several times since I first noticed the sick birds.’
So we all went out to the aviaries, with Harriet still on Nick’s shoulder — and still ignoring me.
In the first one, we found two fluffed-up birds sitting on the ground. As we went from cage to cage, the number of sick birds increased.
‘Have many died?’ I asked.
‘Too many,’ replied Murph, softly. ‘Too many.’
My heart went out to the man. The birds and horse-racing were his whole life. He might be able to do without the horses, but the birds were his companions. Without them, his life would fall apart.
We moved into the trees to where the native-bird aviaries were hidden. In the first one we found the tui with the broken leg huddled on the ground. Murph looked at it without comment before moving to the penguin cage.
He took one look before turning his head away. ‘Oh my God!’ he said in a broken voice. ‘My God.’
Two days before, we’d seen five healthy-looking blue penguins. Now, one was dead and it looked like the others would be soon.
I looked up and saw the tears in Murph’s eyes. He didn’t say anything more, but I’m certain that he knew then that eventually he would lose all of his birds, and there was little that anyone could do to stop it.
CHAPTER 10
N ot far from where we live is a rocky hill called Taiaroa Head. Because it sticks out into the southern Pacific Ocean it gets hit with winds from all directions, particularly the freezing ones that come up from Antarctica. It’s a cold, windy, bleak, treeless place — the perfect spot for an albatross to nest.
When it comes to nesting time, albatrosses have a problem. Their bodies are designed for a life at sea, where they fly vast distances across the southern oceans in search of squid and other sea creatures. To do this
‘Trouble is,’ said Murph, ‘it allowed that Jim Black fella to make fun of what’s happening to the birds.’ He pointed to the paper. ‘Have you read this?’
I shook my head.
‘It looks like that Bryce Shreeves brought the disease into the country.’
‘How?’ I asked.
‘Eggs,’ replied Murph. He tapped the paper. ‘It says here they have found some egg shells which are different from the eggs his chooks lay. They’re doing tests. Seems like Shreeves could have got the eggs overseas. He’s just come back from a trip around the world. At least now he won’t be able to blame my birds.’
‘But that doesn’t make sense,’ I said, puzzled. ‘He wouldn’t want disease on his farm.’
‘No, but he
would
want new varieties of chooks that laid more eggs. Bet he was bypassing biosecurity by smuggling eggs through in his bags. He’d hatch them out here and nobody would know anything about it. Wouldn’t surprise me if they were genetically modified.’ Murph took a long drag on his cigarette. ‘Makes more sense than the alternative.’
‘What’s that?’
‘That migrating birds brought it here. But they have been coming here for thousands of years. Can’t see how all of a sudden they’d start bringing diseases with them. Would have happened before. And it hasn’t. No, mark my words. That Bryce Shreeves is the one to blame.’ A quick puff. ‘Mongrel!’ he added angrily. Then he started coughing. It was a horrible, rasping sound, as if parts of his lungs were hanging loose and flapping around in the tubes.
When he was like this there was nothing you could do to help. It would take him a minute or so to recover. I waited.
‘Come on,’ he wheezed as the coughing subsided. ‘Come and see what’s happening to my birds.’
‘Can I bring Harriet?’ asked Nick.
‘Yeah, sure. She likes going outside.’
‘What about the disease?’ I asked. ‘I’m happy to stay in here with her, while you go out.’
Murph shook his head. ‘No need for that, Danny. If she’s going to get the flu, then she already has. She’s been out with me several times since I first noticed the sick birds.’
So we all went out to the aviaries, with Harriet still on Nick’s shoulder — and still ignoring me.
In the first one, we found two fluffed-up birds sitting on the ground. As we went from cage to cage, the number of sick birds increased.
‘Have many died?’ I asked.
‘Too many,’ replied Murph, softly. ‘Too many.’
My heart went out to the man. The birds and horse-racing were his whole life. He might be able to do without the horses, but the birds were his companions. Without them, his life would fall apart.
We moved into the trees to where the native-bird aviaries were hidden. In the first one we found the tui with the broken leg huddled on the ground. Murph looked at it without comment before moving to the penguin cage.
He took one look before turning his head away. ‘Oh my God!’ he said in a broken voice. ‘My God.’
Two days before, we’d seen five healthy-looking blue penguins. Now, one was dead and it looked like the others would be soon.
I looked up and saw the tears in Murph’s eyes. He didn’t say anything more, but I’m certain that he knew then that eventually he would lose all of his birds, and there was little that anyone could do to stop it.
CHAPTER 10
N ot far from where we live is a rocky hill called Taiaroa Head. Because it sticks out into the southern Pacific Ocean it gets hit with winds from all directions, particularly the freezing ones that come up from Antarctica. It’s a cold, windy, bleak, treeless place — the perfect spot for an albatross to nest.
When it comes to nesting time, albatrosses have a problem. Their bodies are designed for a life at sea, where they fly vast distances across the southern oceans in search of squid and other sea creatures. To do this
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