CHAPTER 17
And so it went. Albert assigned each of us to coach the animals that were most like us.
As for me, I was assigned the Dingoes and Camels; Stripes taught the Phantom Cat and some of the other four-leggers, with Marmalade as his teacher’s assistant; Tubthumper took charge (no pun intended) of the Kangaroos, Wallabies, and Wombats; Terri tutored the Emus, Cassowaries, Australian Pelicans, Flying Foxes, Duck-billed Platypi and such, while Drako handled the education of the Echidnas, Crocodiles, Goannas, and his special favorites, the Blue-Tongued Lizards (who attained the dubious distinction of being teased for being the ‘teacher’s pets’).
In Albert’s case, since there were no aquatic animals among us to coach the sea creatures, he took the Dolphins in hand himself, knowing them to be highly intelligent, organized, and well-liked (not to mention naturally inclined to be helpful to humans).
The Dolphins then passed on the knowledge they received to the rest of the ‘denizens of the deep,’ as Albert called them.
By the beginning of 1788, when these teams combined for joint exercises following the completion of their studies, it was the greatest supergroup or dream team of animals ever assembled.
We coached the Australian animals to accomplish two things: First, as already mentioned, the protection of the indigenous peoples whenever and wherever they were threatened.
Without giving away ‘paramilitary secrets,’ what this basically meant was animals constantly guarded the perimeter of houses and villages where the indigenous people lived, and followed them (discreetly) wherever they traveled —whether singly, to school or work or out on a walkabout, as well as when they traveled in groups.
If the native people were threatened by the colonizers, the animals guarding them passed on the message to all the other animals within the area by means of prearranged signals and calls, which were further relayed from one section to another by means of a visual and verbal communication system which the animals devised on their own.
Heeding the call to action, Kangaroos would bound to the spot and form a protective perimeter around those whom they had accepted the responsibility to defend; Australian Pelicans and Flying Foxes would dive-bomb the would-be attackers; if a river was nearby, Crocodiles would emerge from its depths and make an incursion on the belligerents; Goannas would trot up and take a stand next to the Kangaroos, and Blue-Tongued Lizards would drop out of trees onto the unsuspecting aggressors. Meanwhile, Dingoes would describe a moving circle around their prey, launching occasional lightning-quick incursions into the ranks of the enemy, growling and snapping at them from close range.
If none of these threats and irritations had the desired effect of scaring off the antagonists, the Snakes were called to come out of their dens, and Spiders, Centipedes, Bull Ants and Earthworms (of up to nine feet in length), as well as various Beetles, would arrive from their nests and other hiding places to frighten, irritate, and harass the enemy.
With the instant mobilization of this multi-pronged, cross-species force, it was hardly ever necessary for any of the animals to have to resort to biting, scratching, clawing, kicking, or even climbing up the legs of any of the prospective attackers—the colonizers normally got the point, and soon perceived the wisdom of pulling back, which they would later refer to as a “strategic retreat” but which was, in actuality, a chaotic, every-man-for-himself ‘lighting out for the territory.’
As time went by, and word of the indigenous peoples’ protected status spread, the need for these shows of solidarity on the part of the animals diminished in frequency. Still, there would always be somebody, somewhere, who would forget the lessons of the past and try his ‘luck’ again—to his utter dismay and defeat, as the animal protectors never slackened their vigilance.
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