“Help! Get this off of me,” Connie shouted from under the bucket. Her brother Charlie came running in, his face white. “The cows have bolted” he told his father. “How’re we gonna get the milking done?”
‘“Turn me back for one second and everything goes wrong,” bellowed Mr Hogsworthy. “What’s the reason for all this ’ere mess.”
They managed to get the bucket off Connie’s head and she emerged, her hair plastered down with milk. “It’s those two girls to blame,” she said fiercely. “They’re so dumb they don’t even know how to milk a cow.”
Mr Hogsworthy glared at Tao and Erica. “You two is bad luck.” He growled. “Trouble follows you wherever you go. I want you out of the milking shed afore you cause more damage. Best you help Charlie in the pig sties.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Charlie and the pigs
“Okay you two, come along of me,” ordered the grinning farm boy. “Let’s see how you get on with smelly hogs.”
They were given heavy gum boots several sizes too big, and followed Charlie to the pig shed a good distance from the homestead.
“Phew, what a pong,” said Erica holding her nose, as they entered the shed, which had rows of pens, large white sows and their squealing piglets lying on straw beds, feeding troughs at one end. Outside the shed in a muddy fenced-off yard dozens of other hogs were rooting for food and rolling in the mud.
“It’s dinner time for the sows,” said Charlie. He showed them the pig swill in large barrels, smelly waste food that had been collected from restaurants and hotels. “You can have some for breakfast if you’re hungry,” the boy joked. They were shown how to shovel the swill into wheelbarrows and load it into the troughs in the pens. It was
heavy smelly work.’
Charlie made himself comfortable on a bale of straw and sat smoking and watching the girls toiling away, now and then shouting for them to get a move on and strop slacking.
“What a lazy boy,” Erica complained. “He sits there smoking his cigarette while we have to do all the work. I wish he could be taught a lesson.” After a while Charlie dozed off, his half-smoked cigarette still in his mouth. Erica went for a load of swill while Tao had a short rest.
The cigarette somehow slipped out of the farm boy’s mouth and plopped onto the bale of straw. It lay there for a while smouldering then a small flame flickered. In no time the flame grew bigger and a plume of smoke drifted into Charlie’s nose. He woke and leaped to his feet. By this time the hay was burning fiercely, and Charlie raced wildly around looking for a bucket of water.
“Hey you girls” he yelled. “What’s the matter with you? Why didn’t you warn me the bale was on fire? Why can’t you do your work properly?”
They tried to help find buckets but it was too late; the fire had spread to a nearby hayrick. They watched the burning rick helplessly.
“Wow,” said Charlie aghast. “My Dad will blow his top when he sees what you girls have done.”
“What nonsense,” Tao exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be sitting on hay while smoking a cigarette.”
The farm truck roared up and an angry Mr Hogsworthy heaved himself out. “Charlie!” he shouted. “What in the name of blue blistered bananas is going on?”
“Gee, Dad, I dunno how the fire started. Maybe it was one of these girls playing with matches.”
Mr Hogsworthy looked at his son suspiciously. “You haven’t been smoking again ’ave you Charlie?”
Tao said quickly, “Yes he has Mr Hogworthy. Look there’s a packet of cigarettes sticking out his pocket.”
“So is that true me lad?”
“Well, er . . . But I swear smoking is not what caused the fire,” he said glaring at Tao.
The rick was almost burnt out, just a charred heap of cinders left with smoke curling out. The cause of the fire was still a mystery, but the farmer had his suspicions.
“One thing I do know,” he said, “you girls bring bad luck wherever you go. I dunno what to do with you next. P’raps you can help my Missus with the poultry. There’s eggs to collect and clean and I don’t know what all.”
A grumbling Charlie was left to feed the pigs and the farmer’s wife took them to the laying shed, where rows of brown hens in wire cages were clucking noisily and hundreds of eggs were ready to be collected. Tao asked if the hens were happy, because they seemed cramped in their small wire compartments. “They’re quite content,” she assured them. “All hens care about is getting their food and water.” It was nearly lunch time when they finished and the girls were hungry, not having had breakfast.
The farmer was relieved there had been no more disasters. “I’ll be happy to be shot of you two,” he said. “You are nothing but trouble. You best be getting back to yer ’ome. And I don’t want to see either of you anywhere near my farm again.” He limped off, leaving them to make their own way home.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Aunt Gertrude and the butterflies
“What an ungrateful lot and they didn’t even give us breakfast,” Erica complained. “It’s their own fault if a few things went wrong, though I can’t understand how it all happened,” she added looking suspiciously at Tao.
They felt better after a good lunch of roast beef, followed by ice cream and coffee. Amber who had been visiting a friend wanted to know where they had been. “Glad I wasn’t with you,” she said. “I hate smelly pigs.”
But some bad news awaited Tao. “You’ll be pleased to hear Aunt Gertrude is coming to visit,” her mother said. Tao wasn’t pleased at all; Aunt Gertrude had visited them several times before, and she was forever complaining the girls were too noisy.
Her aunt was a fussy grey haired woman. She was secretary of the Anti-Cruelty League in her town, and was always on the lookout for anyone she thought was cruel to animals or insects. She once offered to give the girls a reward if they reported anyone they saw being cruel.
Aunt Gertrude arrived next day in a small green Beetle car loaded with suitcases. She also brought notebooks, a camera and even a tape recorder. Tao’s mother and the girls helped unload and carry her luggage to the guest room.
“Well, Carrie, how nice to be in the country,” said Aunt Gertrude. “And you girls are looking well. I do hope you will be quiet during my stay. I get such dreadful headaches when there is noise.”
They had tea and cakes and Aunt Gertrude went to her room for a nap. “I’m quite exhausted,” she complained. “Driving always brings on my migraines.”
After breakfast next morning the three girls decided to go butterfly hunting, and were on the way out, Erica carrying her butterfly net and Amber and Tao carrying bottles, notebooks, and other equipment. Aunt Gertrude was reading a newspaper. “Oh, Erica dear,” she said, “are you going fishing for tadpoles with your net?”
The girls giggled. “No, we’re going butterfly catching,” said Tao. “Erica is a butterfly collector.”
Aunt Gertrude’s face clouded. “I don’t understand, dear child,” she said. “How do you collect them?”
“I catch them in my net,” explained Erica. “I have a display cabinet of specimens at home. It’s quite a valuable collection.”
Aunt Gertrude shook her head. “But surely you don’t mean you have a cabinet of live butterflies?”
“Oh no, of course they are mounted specimens.”
“You can’t mean, I’m sure you don’t mean, that they are dead butterflies, dear girl,” said Aunt Gertrude in horror.
“Well, yes,” said Erica. “We have to kill them before we begin the mounting process.”
“You kill them!” Aunt Gertrude couldn’t believe her ears. “How do you kill them?”
“It’s quite easy really. I carry a bottle of poison with me and after I catch them I pop them into the bottle. They die quite painlessly really. They quiver a bit at first then as soon as they are quite dead I take them out and keep them in a special box. They have to be mounted before they go stiff.”
&
nbsp; Aunt Gertrude got unsteadily to her feet. “This is ghastly,” she gasped. “What inhuman, barbaric behaviour.” She shuddered. “I can hardly imagine the suffering of those pitiful creatures. How do you mount them?”
“We stick pins through their bodies and hold them down on boards so their wings are stretched out until they are properly dry,” explained Erica patiently.
Aunt Gertrude put her hands to her ears and closed her eyes. Erica was bewildered. “They are only butterflies,” she said.
“Only butterflies! Only butterflies! Dear girl don’t you realize what horrendous agony those poor creatures go through!” spluttered Aunt Gertrude. She made up her mind. “I absolutely and completely forbid you to continue this contemptible, odious hobby. I will not tolerate it,” she stormed. “I will break that net in half like a twig if you dare use it again. Now put all those horrid things away and go for a walk and admire the beauty of nature.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Aunt Gertrude and the buzzing bees
“Hey, do you think Aunt Gertrude has gone bats?” said Erica. They had put away their butterfly equipment and sat outside deciding what to do next. “Best we ignore her,” said Tao. “Hide all your stuff in the shed and we can sneak it out. She will never know.”
They found a field full of flowers well away from farmer Hogsworthy and managed to net some colourful and rare species. They sneaked back making sure to avoid Aunt Gertrude, and Erica found a table in the shed where she could mount the butterflies.
At lunch Aunt Gertrude said, “I’m so glad you girls have given up that horrid hobby. It is so much healthier to hike in the countryside enjoying the beautiful scenery. I would gladly join you if it weren’t for the dreadful allergies I suffer from, caused by pollen borne in the air. You girls are fortunate to be immune. I have a terror of insects; even a single sting could have serious consequences.” “Why would a sting be serious?” asked Tao. “It could cause a person like me to suffer from anaphylactic shock.”
“Wow,” said Tao. “How awful.”
“Even the sound of insects buzzing terrifies me, dear child,” she said. “Alas, it is a cross I have to bear.”
After lunch Aunt Gertrude rumbled into town in her Beetle to buy some special foods to strengthen her lungs and pills for her headaches and allergies.
Tao and Amber sneaked into the guest room while she was away. They were amazed at the dozens of bottles in the cupboard containing pills of every colour and shape imaginable, and liquid medicines enough to fill a chemist shop. On a table were books on how to cure all sorts of illnesses, notebooks and stacks of pamphlets about animal cruelty, her camera and tape recorder.
“Let’s borrow the tape recorder,” said Tao. “Aunt Gertrude won’t be back for hours. She’s having her hair done.”
At the bottom of the garden was a bee hive in the trunk of an old tree. Tao usually kept well away for fear of being stung. But she wondered what the buzzing would sound like on the tape recorder. It was dangerous to go too close, so she got a long pole, tied the recorder to the end of it and held it next to the hive. The bees obliged by buzzing extra loudly.
“Wow, that sounds cool,” Tao said when they listened to the recording. They put the recorder back in case Aunt Gertrude returned early.
“I think I shall turn in early,” said Aunt Gertrude after supper. “I find arguing with young hairdressers so tiring. And country chemist shops never seem to have the brand I want.”
The girls watched television then went to bed, planning a butterfly hunt early next day. Tao could hear their aunt snoring loudly in the next room. It was an irritating sound and kept her from falling asleep and she lay awake wondering if she should knock on the guest room door to complain. Then she remembered the recorder lying near her aunt’s bed. She could visualise it clearly even the switch to turn it on.
A loud buzzing started in the next room. Aunt Gertrude carried on snoring for a while, then suddenly the snoring stopped and the only sound was the buzzing. Aunt Gertrude leaped from her bed, knocking over furniture as she scrambled about in the dark trying .
to turn on the lights.
She uttered a loud cry and Tao heard the bedroom door fly open and her aunt fled down the passage in her nightie shouting for help.
“Bees, bees!” she shouted, “I am being attacked by a swarm of bees in my bedroom. I think I have been stung,”
Everyone was roused by the uproar, and they all came stumbling out in their pyjamas. Meantime the buzzing mysteriously stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Tao’s mother tried to comfort her sobbing sister. “Where are the bees?” she asked. “How badly have you been stung?” While Aunt Gertrude sat in the lounge shivering in her nightie a thorough search was made.
“But Gertie, there are no bees in your room!” Tao’s mother exclaimed.
Aunt Gertrude stared open mouthed. “No bees? But that’s impossible. I heard them with my own ears. I couldn’t see them in the dark, but they were there. I’m sure I was stung.”
But no sign of a sting was found. They coaxed Aunt Gertrude back to bed, and she took several pills to calm her nerves and a big pink sleeping pill. “I’m sure they were here,” she said as they put out the lights. “They must have flown away out the window.”
She spent the next day in bed. “I am utterly prostrated by the experience,” she said weakly. “I have never been more terrified. The swarm flew at me with that terrible buzzing. The memory will haunt me for the rest of my days.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Aunt Gertrude and the battery hens
Aunt Gertrude soon recovered from her ordeal. “I really must carry on distributing my pamphlets,” she said briskly. “I must do my bit to protect suffering animals. Perhaps you girls can help me. I’m sure your mother will approve of your helping a worthy cause.”
Before the girls could protest she said, “Let us make an early start. You girls can help me load the car.”
They piled stacks of flyers on the seats, Aunt Gertrude made sure she had her notebooks and camera and they drove off to the village.
“You girls know the best places,” she said. “Perhaps we should split up. Each of you can take a pile and hand out to passers-by and car drivers. I shall pay personal visits to shops and houses.”
It was hard work because most people were in a hurry, but slowly they managed to hand out most of the pamphlets. Aunt Gertrude returned after canvassing the shops. “Well done girls,” she said. “We have had a most successful morning. I think we should now visit some of the farms. Farmers often neglect their animals. Perhaps you girls have visited a farm lately?”
"Well . . ." Tao began, but Erica nudged her. "We have hiked past farms," she said, "but they don't like trespassers,"
"I would not be a trespasser," said Aunt Gertrude indignantly. "I have every right to inspect farms as a member of the Anti-Cruelty League."
They drove past Farmer Hogsworthy's gate, and the girls tried to distract their Aunt's attention, but she stopped the car.
"I'm sure your mother sometimes buys eggs here," she said. "I think we should visit them. If there is any difficulty I shall say we wish to buy eggs or milk."
They opened the gate and drove to the farmhouse. The girls crouched in their seats while Aunt Gertrude knocked on the front door which was opened by Mrs Hogsworthy.
“Oh, good afternoon, I wonder if it would be convenient for me to look around your farm,” said Aunt Gertrude, putting on a bright smile. “My two nieces and I are so interested in farming and we are fascinated by the animals. Perhaps we could buy some of your produce.”
Mrs Hogsworthy looked dubious. “Well, I don’t know about that. My husband is strict about visitors.”
“Oh, I assure you we will be no trouble.”
But Mrs Hogsworthy insisted she would have to ask her husband. “He’s in the milking shed and wouldn’t take kindly to being interrupted,” she said.
Just then Mr Hogs
worthy arrived. “’Ere, ’ere and who are you?” he grunted. “Don’t you take no notice of the sign on me gate?”
Aunt Gertrude apologised for not having read the notice. She said she would pay a good price for milk.
“I don’t usually sell on me farm,” he said. “But I might allow it just this once.” He led the way to the milking shed and Aunt Gertrude had a good look inside while the farmer fetched a carton.
On the way back Aunt Gertrude noticed the poultry shed. The large sliding door was shut but she could hear hens clucking. She had a sudden suspicion that the shed contained something she had long campaigned against.
“Oh, I would so love to buy a dozen of your lovely fresh farm eggs,” she said. “Could we pop in for a moment and collect some?”
“Nobody but staff is allowed in there,” Mr Hogsworthy grunted. “You can wait here and I’ll see what I can do.” As he slid open the door Aunt Gertrude’s suspicions were confirmed. The farmer was using the hated hen battery system. She quickly took her camera and edged towards the door, just as the farmer was coming out.
“’Ere, ’ere,” he shouted, “just what do you think you’re doing? I don’t allow photos. What’s yer game lady? Gimme that there camera.”
“I shall do no such thing,” she exclaimed. She tried to push past him to take a picture, but the farmer angrily barred the way and closed the door.
“You cannot intimidate me, my man,” she said. “I am an official of the Animal Anti-Cruelty League. I shall expose your evil practise. Those poor hens are crowded like prisoners in a Nazi death camp. It is a crime and against all humane principles,” she cried bristling with anger.
“Yer must be off yer rocker lady,” said the farmer, flushing an angry purple. “Crazy old bird. ’Oo are you calling a Nazi? I’ll ’ave the police on you.”
“I shall take a photo whether you like it or not,” stormed Aunt Gertrude. “I shall call my two nieces to assist me.”