No one could remember the exact day the cockatoo first appeared on the old, rusty 44 gallon drum that graced the centre of Mona’s vegetable garden. The drum was there so the sprinkler could sit on top of it and get the water to very corner of the small but prosperous garden.
Cocky didn’t like the hose being there, whenever Mona put the sprinkler on top, the bird was there soon after, picking it up in his beak and tossing it into the dirt. Sometimes, if it was hot, Cocky would sit under the water and flap his wings and preen himself, looking very skinny and bedraggled in the way that birds do when they are wet.
Mona wondered why he ever did it. He was certainly not the prettiest cockatoo that she had ever seen and his baths never helped in his appearance. He was a constant dirty white colour, as if he had been streaked with brown paint as a chick. His crest was battered and not the usual bright yellow of his species but more muted and orange. Mona said it was like a sunset scuffed with clouds. Her husband Wally, just scoffed and said it was wrong.
His wings were worn with bald patches under each one and the feathers were either torn or broken. His left wing was crippled as well and hung half an inch lower than the right, yet somehow he was still able to fly, if only short distances. Mostly he walked the vegetable garden goose stepping like a German soldier on parade, which was what Wally called it.
“He’s on parade again,” Wally would call out and that was the sign to stay out of the garden, because Cocky was on guard duty and only Mona was allowed in.
At some point in Cocky’s life, he had lost his right eye and eyelid and when he stared at you it was like being appraised by some other worldly creature. Cocky always stared at new people with the nowhere eye and then gave his opinion on the person. Mona had been stared at for some time when she first saw the cockatoo on the drum. She had stared back unsure of what to do with this strange new bird in her yard and after a few minutes had felt rather unsettled with the bird’s intense scrutiny. She had been just about to fetch the broom and shoo the bird away when it turned and regarded her with its good eye and then nodded its head and screeched.
Wally hadn’t fared so well. He came out to see what Mona was staring at and copped the full force of Cocky’s nowhere eye for just ten seconds before the bird turned his back to Wally and defecated on the ground.
“Stupid bird,” Wally had muttered.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mona replied. “He has taste.”
One day one of the dogs had wandered into the yard. Needle was Wally’s red heeler, a cattle dog and guard dog. Needle had once killed a wild goat that had strayed into the sheep enclosure and had racked up an impressive tally of feral cats that Wally kept score on the side of his kennel, like a fighter ace of old. Needle had chased off wanna be crooks and kept ‘those salesmen’ away.
Cocky was on patrol. Needle entered the veggie patch. Wally was sitting on an old couch on the porch, listening to the races and reading the newspaper; from where he was he couldn’t see Cocky on patrol in the garden but he saw Needle enter the yard and head towards the veggie’s with his nose to the ground. What followed was a screech from the devil himself and a lot of yelping. Needle went racing out of the garden and straight to Wally who was standing now with his paper a mess at his feet. Needle raced up the stairs, hit the paper and slid across the porch ending in a pile by the front door. Cocky stood at the end of the garden screeching with his crest raised and crapped his disgust in the dirt towards Wally and then marched off.
Needle watched the bird depart from the safety of the lounge. He didn’t move for two hours. Wally was disgusted.
“Bloody bird,” Wally spat at the dinner table. “It’s a friggin’ menace. I should shoot the bastard. Needle’s been terrorized.”
Mona was patient. “Needle will be fine. A little scare may just show him that he’s not top dog around here anymore.”
“Oh, and I s’pose that mongrel bird is gunna kill the bloody cats that come around.”
Mona arched an eyebrow. “Look what he did to Needle.”
Sunday afternoons was Mona’s bookclub and when the weather was fine she and her friends would sit on the porch and discuss their most recent read. It was the rule that every one bought a plate of treats for the afternoon and Mona would supply the drinks. Wally would make himself absent on these afternoons usually stealing a cake and quick kiss from Mona before disappearing out into the paddocks.
It was on one such afternoon that the ladies where out on the porch sharing stories when Sadie, Mona’s friend from up the road said “It seems we have a guest today,” pointing at Cocky sitting on the porch railing and watching the ladies eat.
Mona laughed and told them of Cocky and his position in the garden. The woman laughed at Needles disgrace and one of them offered him their cup.
“Would you like a cuppa tea?”
Cocky stared at her with nowhere eye and then hopped of the railing and left the ladies alone.
Every Sunday after that Cocky would appear on the railing when the ladies had gathered together and watch them as they talked and laughed. Occasionally one of the ladies would offer him a biscuit that he would shyly accept and eat with his back to them, but whenever one offered a cup of tea he would turn away and go back to the garden.
Goose stepping the garden was not the cockatoo’s only pass time. Once a week Mona would put the chickens out to scratch in the dirt of the yard and eat any grubs that may be around. Mona would watch from the kitchen window as Cocky stood like a lord over them from his seat on the old drum. Cocky seemed to watch them with a certain revulsion as if they were a lower form of avian life than himself. This particular day Cocky watched the chickens with a strange intensity. He watched as they scratched and clucked and followed their every move. Mona watched from the kitchen with her chin resting on her interlaced fingers on the sill as Cocky danced around the drum and nodded at the chickens with his crest raised. Then he disappeared briefly before reappearing with a corn cob in his mouth. Mona watched as he carefully peeled the skin away dropping it over the side of the drum. The chickens paid him no mind.
Then gripping the cob with one foot Cocky delicately plucked a single kernel off the cob and spat it over the side of the drum so it landed a foot away in the dirt. One of the chickens saw this golden morsel descend from heaven and raced to grab it. Even as it swallowed that one another appeared and then one more, each one a little closer to the old drum. Cocky plucked off one more kernel and let it fall to the dirt at the base of the drum; the chicken plucked happily beneath him. Cocky watched it eat with nowhere eye and then pounced.
Mona couldn’t see what happened next her view was obscured by plants, but Cocky screeched a lot and with a flurry of dirty white wings made a short flight to the top of the drum. The chicken rocketed off through the garden and Mona raced out to see what was happening. She found the chicken five minutes later laying still on the grass on the other side of the house. When she lifted the bird its head hung at an odd angle.
Mona sighed angrily and strode off to find Cocky. He was on the old 44 drum and watched as Mona marched towards him with the dead chicken in her hands.
“Bad bloody bird,” she said with less venom than she intended, “Naughty bird! Bad Cocky!” Her angry facade was cracking as Cocky watched with his crest raised and bobbed up and down. He was laughing at her; Mona knew it and she couldn’t help but smile. “No more dead chickens.”
It looked like it was chicken tonight.
Most of the time Needle wasn’t allowed in the yard and after his run in with Cocky even when he was in, he often stayed well away from the garden. But at night Wally let him in and during the summer, when they slept with the door open, Needle was allowed inside the house. Cocky took offence to this when it first happened. He flew to the roof and screeched his indignation to the heavens from the guttering.
Wally it seemed could screech louder when he wanted to and with a loud expletive told Cocky to shut up. Cocky took his indignation back to the drum and let Needle have one little victory.
It was a couple of Sundays before Christmas when Cocky appeared on the porch railing for his afternoon meeting with the ladies. He accepted his treat, a scone, with a new brash swagger, and had then looked at Mona with his good eye and said clearly.
“Wanna cuppa tea.”
Everyone fell silent and turned to the bird.
“I’m sorry, Cocky.” Mona asked, “Do you want a cuppa tea?”
“Wanna cuppa tea.”
Mona fetched tea for everyone and placed a cold, milky tea in an old cup on the floor of the porch for Cocky. The group waited breathlessly as Cocky hopped of the railing and inspected the tea with his empty eye and slowly took a sip.
“Good?” Mona asked.
“Wanna cuppa tea.” Cocky answered.
“Oh bloody hell,” Wally sighed when Mona told him that night, but he couldn’t help but smile.
On the Australia Day weekend, Mona and Wally had a barbeque with friends and family. Cocky enjoyed the attention that tea drinking antics gathered and settled on his drum as the light faded and everyone around him said their goodbyes and left. Wally cleaned the yard with Needle fossicking for scraps while Mona cleaned up inside. It was late when they finished and settled into bed with Needle asleep on the porch.
“Wanna cuppa tea.”
Cocky’s call woke Mona. She was not sure what she had heard at first but then the bird called again. Mona sighed angrily and checked the clock by her bed. It was just after four in the morning.
“Wanna cuppa tea.”
Mona shook her head and hopped out of bed. If Cocky woke Wally there’d be hell to pay.
“Wanna cuppa teeeaaa.”
Worried now that Cocky would wake Wally, Mona went to the kitchen and prepared the kettle. Form the garden Cocky called out again. Mona frowned as the bird continued his ranting. From the garden Needle growled. Mona’s hand froze over the kettle as it started to whistle. Needle never growled unless there was someone near the gate. Mona quickly took the kettle from the stove and fumbled around the kitchen for a torch.
“Wally!” Mona called out as Needle started to bark and then Mona heard the dog run and growl like he did when he was chasing a cat.
“Wanna CUPPA TEA!!!” Cocky screamed now as Needle snarled and barked.
Wally came from the bedroom. “What the bloody hell?” Mona was on the porch. “Needle’s attacking Cocky” She screamed.
“Oh bloody hell, Needle, back off ya mongrel.” Wally called out as he took the torch off Mona and ran out to the garden.
Needle was at the base of the drum his teeth sunk to the gums into the flesh of a python. Cocky was at the top of the drum half his body wrapped in muscular coils. The python was biting at Needle’s back.
Wally and Mona took it all in at a glance. Wally thrust the torch into Mona’s hands and disappeared inside the house. Mona stood there with the torch on the spectacle, now urging Needle on.
Wally emerged with his rifle. Cocky had fallen off the drum and the snake was trying to bite Needle’s face as the dog snapped towards the reptiles own.
“Oh bloody hell!” Wally muttered as he levelled the rifle.
He would talk about that shot for years. Without the need for gross embellishments, it was one in a million. The shot that rang out hit the snake in the head and blew it clean off.
Cocky, Needle, Mona and Wally were all still as the shot echoed through the night. Mona moved first, she kissed Wally loudly on the cheek and then raced to Cocky. Handling him like a new born she pulled the bird from the coils and held him close, with a free hand she stroked Needle’s head. Wally fell to his knees on the grass.
“That was a good shot.”
Cocky looked at Mona with nowhere eye.
“Wanna cuppa tea,” He croaked.
