Hi, this is Spencer for Spencer Reads, on Unpretending’s Substack. We are reading Dot and The Kangaroo. Which is written by Ethal Pedley, and this is Part Two of Chapter Four. Part One came out a couple of days ago but the whole chapter would be really long so we did it in two lots. So this is Part Two.
When the little girl reached the pool, she was still more surprised, on a nearer view of the Platypus, that the Kangaroo should think so much of it. At her feet she beheld a creature like a shapeless bit of wet matted fur. She thought it looked like an empty fur bag that had been fished out of the water. Projecting from the head, that seemed much nearer the ground than the back, was a broad ducks bill of a dirty grey colour; and peeping out underneath were two fore-feet that were also that were like a duck’s also. Altogether it was such a funny object that she was inclined to laugh, only the Kangaroo looks so serious that she tried to look serious, too, as if there was nothing strange in the appearance of the Platypus.
“I am the Ornithorhynchus Pradoxes!” Said the Platypus pompously.
“I am Dot,” said the little girl.
“Now we know one another’s names,” said the Platypus, with satisfaction. “If the Kangaroo had introduced us, she would have stumbled over my name and mumbled yours, and we should have been none the wiser. Now tell me, little Human, are you going to write a book about me? Because, if you are, I’m off. I can’t stand any more books being written about me; I have been annoyed enough that way.”
“I couldn’t write a book,” said Dot, with surprise; inwardly wondering what anyone could find to make a book of, out of such a small ugly creature. (Platypuses aren’t ugly.)
“You’re quite sure?” Asked the Platypus, doubtfully, and evidently more than half inclined to dive into the pool.
“Quite,” said Dot.
“Then I’ll try to believe you said the Platypus, clumsily waddling towards some grass, amongst which it settled itself comfortably. “But it’s very difficult to believe you Humans, for you tell such dreadful fibs,” it continued, as it squirted some dirty water out of a bag that surrounded its bill, (Ewww) and swallowed some water-beetles, small snails and mud that had been stored there. (That’s really disgusting). See for instance, the way you have all quarrelled and lied about me! One great Human, the biggest fool of all, said I wasn’t a live creature at all, but a joke another Human had played upon him. Then they squabbled together -one saying I was a Beaver, another that I was a Duck, another that I was a Mole or a Rat. Then they argued whether I was a bird, or an animal, or if we laid eggs or not; and everyone wrote a book, full of lies, all out of his head.
“That’s the way Humans amuse themselves. They write books about things they don’t understand, and each new book says all the others are all wrong. It’s a silly game, and very insulting to the creatures they write about. Humans at the other end of the world, who never took the trouble to come here to see me, wrote books about me. Those who did come were more impudent (…, rude. I know it means rude) than those who stayed away. Their idea of learning all about a creature was to dig up its home, and frighten it out of its wits and kill it; and after a few moons of that sort of foolery they claimed to know all about us. US! Whose ancestors knew the world millions of years before the ignorant Humans came on this earth at all.” (I am a bit agreeing with that platypus) The platypus spluttered out more dirty water in its indignation.
The Kangaroo became very timid, as it saw the rising anger of the Platypus, and it whispered to Dot to say something to calm the little creature.
“A million years is a very long time,” said Dot; unable at the moment to think of anything better to say. But this remark angered the platypus more, for it seemed to suspect Dot of doubting what it said.
It clammed up into a more erect position, (which is standing upright) and its little brown eyes became quite fiery.
“I didn’t say a million; I said millions! I can prove by a bone in my body that my ancestors were the Amphitherium, the Amphilestes, the Phascolotherium, and the Stereognathus!” Almost shrieked the little creature. (Thank goodness for Google Translate that tells you how to say things).
Dot didn’t understand what all these words meant, and looked at the Kangaroo for an explanation; but she saw that the Kangaroo didn’t understand either, only she was trying to hide her ignorance by a calm appearance, while she nibbled at the end of a long grass, she held in her fore-paw (that means her front paws). But Dot noticed, by the slight trembling of the little black paw, that the Kangaroo was very nervous. She thought she would try to say something to please Platypus; so she asked very kindly if the bone ever hurt it. But this strange creature did not seem to notice the remark. Settling itself more comfortably amongst the grass, it muttered in calmer tones: “I trace my ancestry back to the Oolite Age. Where does man come in?”
“I don’t know,” said Dot.
“Of course you don’t!” replied the Platypus contemptuously. “Humans are so ignorant! That is because they are so new. When they when they have existed a few more million years, they will be more like us of old families. They will respect quiet, exclusive living, like that of the Ornithorhynchus Paradoxus, and will not be so inquisitive pushing and dangerous as now. The age will come when they will understand, and will cease to write books, and there will be peace for everyone.”
The Kangaroo now thought it a good opportunity to change the subject, And gently introduced the topic of Dot’s lost way, saying how she had found the little girl, and had taken care of her ever since.
The Platypus did not seem interested, and yawned more than once while the Kangaroo spoke.
“The question is,” concluded the Kangaroo, “who shall I ask to find it? Someone must know where it is.”
“Of course,” said the Platypus yawning again, without so much as putting its web-foot in front of its bill (oh it didn’t put its hand over its mouth), which Dot thought very rude, or else very ancient manners. “Little Human,” it said, “tell me what kind of bush creatures come about your burrow.”
“We live in a cottage,” she said, but seeing that the Platypus did not like to be corrected, and that the Kangaroo looked quite shocked at her doing so, she hurriedly described the creatures she had seen there. She said there were Crickets, Grasshoppers, Mice, Lizards, Swallows, Opossums (although they spelt it wrong), Flying Foxes (I think they’re bats), Kookaburra’s, Magpies, and Shepherd’s Companions (I don’t know what a shepherd’s companions are)
“Stop!” Interrupted the Platypus, with a wave of its web-foot; “that is the right one.”
“Who?” Asked the Kangaroo and Dot anxiously together.
“The bird you call Shepherd’s Companion. Some of you call it Rickety Dick, or Willy Wagtail.” (oh we call it Willy Wagtail). Turning to the Kangaroo especially, it continued: If you can bring yourself to speak to anything so obtrusive and gossiping without any ancestry or manners whatsoever, you will be able to learn all you need from that bird. Humans and Wagtails fraternise together. They’re both post-glacial.” (I think that means after the Ice Age, you know the movie?)
“I knew you could advise me,” said the Kangaroo, gratefully.
“Oh, Platypus, how clever you are!” Cried Dot, clapping her hands.
Directly Dot had spoken she saw that she had offended the queer little creature before her. It raised itself with an air of offended dignity that was unmistakable.
“The name platypus is insulting.” (Ohh I didn’t know that!) it remarked, looking at the child severely. “It means broad-footed a vulgar pseudonym which could only have emanated from the brutally coarse expressions of a Human. My name is Ornithorhynchus Paradoxus. Besides, even if my front feet can expand, they can also contract; see! As narrow and refined as a birds claw. Observe, too, that my hind-feet are narrow, and like a seal’s fin though, it has been described as a moles foot.”
As the platypus spoke and thrust out its strangely different feet, the Kangaroo edged a little closer to Dot and whispered in her ear.
“It’s getting angry and is beginning to use long words; do to be careful what you say or it will be terrible!”
“I beg your pardon,” said Dot, (I do not wish to hurt your feelings Para-Pa-ra-do-us.”
“Ornithorhynchus Paradoxus, if you please,” insisted the little creature. “How would you like it if your name was Jones-Smith-Jones, and I called you one Jones, or one Smith, and did not say both the Jones and the Smiths? You have no idea how sensitive our race is. You Humans have no feelings at all compared with ours. Why, my fifth pair of nerves are larger than a man’s! Humans get on my nerves dreadfully!” It ended in disgusted accents.
“She did not mean to hurt you,” said the gentle Kangaroo, soothingly. “Is there anything we can do to make you feel comfortable again?”
“There is nothing you can do side the platypus now mournful and depressed. I must sing music. And quiet my nerves. I will sing a little threnody composed by myself about the good old days of his world before the Flood.” And as it spoke, the Platypus moved into an upright position amongst the tussock grass, and after a little cough opened its bill to sing. (and there’s another picture. Uh-Oh, this is going to be really hard okay?)
The Kangaroo kept very close to Dot, and warned her to be very attentive to the song and not to interrupt it on any account. Almost before the kangaroo had ceased to whisper in her ear, Dot heard this strange song, sung to the most peculiar tune she had ever heard, and in the funniest of little squeaky voices.
The fairest Iguanodon reposed upon the shore;
Extended lay her beauteous form, a hundred feet or more.
The sun, with rays flammivomous, beat on the blue-black sand;
And sportive little Saurians disported on the strand;
But oft the Iguanodon reproved them in their glee,
And said, “Alas! This Saurian Age is not what it should be!”
Then forth from that archaic sea, the Ichthyosaurus
A rose upon his finney wings, with neocomian fuss,
“O Iguanodon,” he cried, as he approached the shore,
“Why art thou thy dysthymic love? Come, rise with me and soar,
Or leave these estuarian seas, and wander in the grove
Behold! A bird-like reptile fish is dying for thy love!”
Then, through the dark coniferous grove they wandered side by side,
The tender Iguanodon and the Ichthyosaurian bride;
And through the enubilious air, the carboniferous breeze,
And woke, with their amphibious sighs, the silence in the trees.
“To think,” they cried, botaurous-toned, “when ages intervene,
Our osseous fossil forms will be in some museum seen!”
Bemoaning thus, by dumous path, they crushed the cycad’s growth,
And many a crash, and thunder, marked the progress of them both.
And when they reached the estuary, the excandescent sun
Was setting o’er the hefted sea; their saurian day was done.
Then raised their paraseline eyes into the flaming moon,
And wept – the Neocomian Age was passing all too soon!
O Iguanodon! 0 Earth! O Ichthyosaurus!
(Oh goodness gracious! That’s a big long word! Hold on)
O Melancephalous saurian! Oh! Oh! Oh!
[here the Platypus was sobbing)
Oh Troglyodites obsecure – Oh! Oh!
(Thank you for whoever just took over that very very hard thingy that was just said.)
At this point of the song, the poor Platypus, whose voice had trembled with increasing emotion and sobbing in each verse, broke down, overcome by the extreme sensitiveness of its fifth pair of nerves and the sadness of its song, and wept in terrible grief.
The gentle Kangaroo was also deeply moved, seeing the Platypus in such sorrow, and Dot mastered her aversion to touching cold, damp fur, and stroked the little creature’s head.
The Platypus seemed much soothed by their sympathy, but hurriedly bid them farewell. It said it must try to restore its shattered fifth pair of nerves by a few hydrophilus latipalpus beetles for lunch, and asleep.
It wearily dragged itself down to the edge of the pool, and looked backwards to the Kangaroo and Dot, who called out “good bye” to it. Its eyes were dim with tears, for it was still thinking of the Iguanodon and itchthyosaurus, and of the good days before the Flood.
“It breaks my heart to think they are all fossils,” it explained mournfully shaking its head. “Fossils!” It repeated, as it plunged into the pool and swam away. “Fossils! It cried out once more, in far, faint accents; and a second later, it dived out of sight.
For several moments after the Platypus had disappeared from view, the Kangaroo and Dot remained just as it had left them. Then Dot broke the silence.
“Dear Kangaroo,” said she, “What was that song about?”
“I don’t know,” said the animal wistfully, “no one ever knows what the Platypus sings about.”
“It was very sad,” said Dot.
Dreadfully sad sighed the Kangaroo; “but the Platypus is a most learned and interesting creature” she added hastily. “Its conversation and songs are most edifying; everyone in the bush admits it.”
“Does anyone understand its conversation?” Asked Dot. She was afraid she must be very stupid, for she hadn’t understood anything except that Willy Wagtail could help them find her way.
“That is the beauty of it all,” said the Kangaroo, “the Platypus is so learned and so instructive, that no one tries to understand it; it is not expected that any one should.
That is the end of a very long chapter, no wonder it took me so long to do it.
This has been Spencer, for Spencer reads, and somebody else helped me out for lots of those long words and so did Google Translate.
And it’s Unpretending’s Substack, for Unpretending Spontaneous.
We hope you have a wonderful day. And hope chapter five comes out before a long time, and that’s the end of the story. Bye-bye.