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A Trunk for Henrietta

by Dorothy Walker

31 pages; Saddle stitched; Illustrated; catalogue #03-2110; ISBN 1-4120-1733-5; US$17.50, C$20.00, EUR14.50, £10.00

The story of two unlikely friends, a bird and a snake, who long for a life different from their own.

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About the Book      About the Author      Excerpts      Catalogue Information

About the Book

A tale of malcontent. Bertrand (a bird) wants to become a snake. Sam (a snake) fancies himself a bird. As a result of each creature's determination a metamorphosis takes place. You will have to read the story to discover the yearning of the discontented hippopotamus, Henrietta.

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About the Author

Dorothy Walker was born in Toowoomba, Australia and educated in Sydney. She is a qualified horticulturalist and passionate about chamber music. She has had an exciting life with jobs varying from secretary to showgirl to radio actress. She has owned a breeding property in the beautiful Upper Hunter Region of New South Wales and was midwife to approximately 200 Herefords. "A big responsibility, but a wonderfully rewarding experience."

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Excerpts

"I can tell you're doing something odd. Practising eh? Whatever for?"

"Practising to wriggle. I want to be a snake. Like you." Bertrand's sentences came in short bursts while he continued to struggle to make further progress. "I like to feel my tummy against the earth's firm surface. It's like being hugged all the time. Besides I never cared much for feathers- I'm really not the feathery type. I'd much rather have a nice smooth leather coat like the one you're wearing."

Sam listened in amazement to Bertrand's admission, then he lifted up his head and shook it several times.

"The trouble with you is you don't know when you're well off. Believe it or not, I would part with both my fangs for just one wing!"

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Bertrand turned over on his back, flattened his wings against his sides and stretched and stretched and stretched till his muscles were taut as wire and his face had turned the colour of a beetroot. "There," he said when he had got bck on to his feet. "What have you got to say to that?" He cocked his head on one side and fixed a sharp eye on the face of the Hippopotamus.

But instead of the approbation he had expected the Hippo's face crumpled up, its eyes squeezed together and once again tear water dripped onto Bertrand's rock.

"N-nothing. It hardly deserves any c-comment," said the Hippo miserably. "Anyhow, you're not very bright. I keep my longings to myself. I don't go round telling people-they'd only laugh at me. Just as they're laughing at you."

"Hah! I don't care two cents if people do laugh at me," said Bertrand. Then, narrowing his beady brown eyes, added: "They'll jolly soon stop laughing when I'm a snake. They'll be too afraid of my fangs."

"Ah! So that's the idea?" said Hippo, drawing air up through its nostrils. "That's why you want to be a snake. So you can scare people with your f-fangs. Your ambition is not a very noble one." Then suddenly remembering it had resolved to speak with no-one; to wallow in its own miseries, the Hippopotamus burst out: "Why don't you go away and leave me alone? I was p-perfectly unhappy before you c-came along and now- now I'm almost talking like a human being. I don't like it. If I'm not careful, soon I'll be confiding in you. Everybody should keep his secret ambition to himself. Instead of going around spreading misery."

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"A great many miles from here, set on the edge of the lushest part of the jungle stands a bungalow where people- human people- live. And there is one among them that is so small it cannot stand up without holding on. And a large one of these humans with its two forepaws carries this small one out onto grass cut close like a green lake. And this little one moves on its four paws very fast- faster than the big ones do on their long hind ones. So fast does this small one go, the big one places it on the ground inside a small square of fence and it scurries from one corner to the other, and when it is tired of that, it reaches its little fat forepaw over the side and makes gurgling sounds. Until another big one with no hair on arms but much hair on head who is prettier than the other, comes and lifts the small one out from between the little fences."

"What in the name of fortune, has this got to do with a trunk for Henrietta?" demanded Bertrand. "I don't care about four-paw people any more than I care about two-paw people. At the moment I'm concerned with Henrietta."

I'm coming to that! Inside this square of fence and in order to discourage the small one from an attempt at escape are put many false animals: a giraffe, some pigs little beyond belief, and an elephant. Are you listening, Bertrand?"

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"W-well,... all went well at f-first. I struck no snags of any kind. The lessons you gave stood me in good stead. I did nothing wrong on the way, nothing. I was not even tempted, not till I reached the bungalow. I perched on a cliff-ledge way up in the sky. From there I got a clear view of the little one that goes on four paws. Then a strange thing happened: golden circles started leaping out from the little crawler's head, and these glistened in the sun like a thousand golden sparks, dazzling and delighting me. I knew immediately I must have one. I dived... In a split second I was back up again, curl in claw. I got ready to swoop again- not on the trunk of the false elephant I had seen when I first went down. Oh no no! I was about to descend and abduct that small one whose head was laden with golden rings. Down I went with amazing precision, but just as my beak touched, that same small one let out a cry fiercer than any animal or bird I had ever heard. More and louder yells followed; then bellows to bring every beast and bird in the land. I tell you I trembled there upon that ledge. Till, out of the bungalow, rushed a tall one, scooped up the little one and disappeared inside leaving the square fence and all the false animals. Then, when my shakes subsided, down I swooped. One peck and the trunk was mine. Then away I went. And here I am.

"Well," said Bertrand after a long pause, "I'm glad you were saved from yourself by the tall one: for the life of me I don't know what the two of us would have done with that little one, especially if it persisted in making those dreadful noises!?"

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He looked up and there just a few inches above hung the huge head of a Hippopotamus, its eyes swimming with tears that flowed down its cheeks in great marble-like globules. Something quite terrible must have happened to cause a creature so magnificent to cry so piteously. Perhaps, thought Bertrand, it would tell him?

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Catalogue Information

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