Penguins on the rampage *
By Sheryl-Lee Kerr
SO there I was, flipping through my mail, once again ignoring the
letter that says I may have just WON A COOL MILLION DOLLARS!! (I have grown sceptical since the last time I may have WON A COOL MILLION DOLLARS!! And the cheque never showed up.)
I found a letter that told me
real estate agents are, at this very
moment, in my suburb with people lining up to buy my home. My first instinct was to determine where exactly these hordes were and to poke some of the larger bushes out front with sticks.
My next thought was, “hang on, I rent’’.
Soon afterwards, I opened a missive and found out to my surprise
about our rampaging penguins. I had to find this pivotal information out from abroad, you understand, from an Australian friend living in the United States.
“I had dinner with some Americans,’’ Eleanor wrote, “and it turned
out they had all heard some dramatic story out of Down Under whereby ‘plague proportions of fairy penguins have taken over the suburbs of Australia, burrowing under homes and causing cave-ins, and keeping whole neighborhoods awake at night with their noise’.
“I am not making this up.’’
I must say it was news to me. And the penguins themselves, too, I
imagine. Still, long ago I ceased to be amazed at what the Americans thought of us. When I last visited the States, several friendly folks asked
earnestly if we had electricity and cars yet. Thus, it seems a small step to
then go from this to believing we stock rampaging Australian penguins.
Of course if it is true, I consider this not unfair retribution for
those little incidents in the Antarctic which, while doubtlessly amusing for
humans, would have left the penguins holding high level squawk-fests on
suitable revenge.
I hear tell it was the practise for some time for Air Force pilots
to fly low over large numbers of penguins because they had a rather cute
habit of looking up to see what the big bird overhead was. And looking up
and looking up, and leaning back while still looking up and, then, all en
masse, keeling over onto their backs like dominos.
The penguin flyovers got banned. But I suspect the penguin species
never forgot the indignity.
Frankly, the more I think about it, the more I prefer the idea of rampaging penguins to any other manner of nightly predator. If I am going to go down in a blaze of beaks, I want that death certificate to proudly declare: Death by fairy penguin.
And I like the idea that they run my suburb even now. Penguins for
mayor, dangblastit. I ponder this anew as I note Eleanor signed her letter: “Felicitations to Frog and please arm yourself against those penguins’’.
Shall do. But, secretly, I do rather hope the penguins win.
P.S. If you do happen to spot any rampaging penguins, drop me a
line.
© Sheryl-Lee Kerr & The Advertiser, 16 NOV 1999