Free Mister Cassowary by Samantha Wheeler Page B

their heads. ‘Wattles.’ The cherry coloured flaps of skin that dangle below their necks. ‘Ear.’ Wait up. So, that’s what those mysterious holes were? Their ears? Weird.
    â€˜Here, feel this.’ Abby passed me a huge turquoise-green sphere.
    I needed two hands to hold it. ‘What is it?’
    â€˜A cassowary egg. Big isn’t it?’
    It was shaped like an ordinary chook egg, but it was way bigger, and rough, like coconut chocolate. I quickly handed it back, worried I might drop it.
    â€˜Can you imagine sitting on that for 50 days,’ said Abby. ‘No wonder male cassowaries are grumpy during breeding season. Anyway, come on, we’d better get going if we want to look around before Cathy arrives.’
    I turned from the counter and stopped at a large aerial shot of Mission Beach. It stretched from the floor to the ceiling and all the main roads, waterfalls and national parks were marked on it like a map.
    â€˜Look, the jetty,’ I said. Near that was a green area marked out with yellow dots leading all the way from the beach to the rainforest.
    Handwritten in the middle of the area were the words Cassowary Corridor .
    â€˜Is that Grandad Barney’s farm?’ I asked.
    Abby was back at the Staff Only door. ‘Hurry,’ she said. ‘We’re running out of time.’
    â€˜Wait. Is this Grandad’s farm where it says Cassowary Corridor ?’
    Abby came over and peered at the map, tracing her finger from the beach to the thick rainforest. ‘I’m not sure. I think so …’
    The door slid open.
    â€˜Hey, kiddos!’ said Walter, popping his head inside. ‘Cathy’s here. You want to come and meet her?’

Back in the car park, an assortment of people were piling out of cars and heading through a gate to the side of the house. Walter pointed to another gate a little further on. ‘This way,’ he said. ‘Cathy’s in the nursery.’
    We stopped in a green shade-cloth area where spindly saplings grew in pots. A lady, in work boots like Walter’s, was bent over the rows, moving pots to fill empty spaces. She wore her hair in one long plait under a baseball cap and, despite the heat, she wore a long-sleeved khaki shirt and long pants.
    â€˜We’ve been collecting seeds from cassowary dung and growing rainforest trees from them. Not bad, hey?’ Walter pulled out one of the saplings and gave it to me. ‘Got yourself a piece of rainforest there, kiddo.’
    â€˜This tree came from cassowary poop?’ I said.
    â€˜Sure did,’ said Walter, laughing. ‘Cassowaries don’t have tongues, so they swallow seeds whole and then pass them in their dung. And once they’re planted, well—’ He glanced at Abby.
    â€˜Ta da! A brand new rainforest tree is born,’ she said, throwing her hands in the air like a magician’s assistant.
    I remembered Peanut with the large red berry stuck in his beak. So that’s what he’d been doing? Trying to swallow it whole? Thinking of Peanut made my stomach dip. Why had I wasted my chance to look for their dad?
    â€˜Clever, hey? Not many animals can do that, you know.’ Cathy came over to greet us. Her grin made her cheeks dimple. ‘Been looking forward to meeting you,’ she said, giving my hand a firm shake. ‘Wow! Walter’s right. You do look like your grandad.’
    â€˜Hey, Cathy,’ said Abby. ‘We just told Flynn about the poop.’
    Cathy laughed. ‘You like to share the important stuff, don’t you, Walter?’
    â€˜Sure do,’ he replied. ‘Now, I’d better head off. You kiddos right?’
    Abby and I nodded.
    Cathy swept her hand over the rows of saplings. ‘Not bad for a banana farmer, hey? Your grandad started this. These trees are part of our buyback scheme. We’re hoping to persuade local landowners to sell us parts of their land so we can plant these