The pigeon mothers of Cooma put on a fine feast for us, and we thanked them with full contented stomachs that rumbled no more. They said it was the least they could do, after we’d showed their Coorow relatives the utmost respect.
Tara to Cooma
They put us up in some lofts they’d converted for our visit; there was even a longer one for Elle, and a smaller one for Angry.
In the morning they cooked us up some pigeon porridge, which they call pigidge. It was made with goat’s milk, and was oat so delicious.
But then it came time to say goodbye, and we left Cooma with a heavy heart and stomach.
We could hear them cooing their farewells until we entered deepest Badja State Forest, and the chattering of badgers took over.
Banjo Badgers of Badja Forest
It was nice to walk through the thick forest at first, but then we reached the swamps, and it looked like it could get tricky.
We were looking for a clear route through when Angry said he thought he could hear a banjo being played in the distance.
We thought he’d turned more crazy than angry for a minute, but then we could all hear it.
We followed the direction of the sound, and before long our lugs delivered us to a clearing, where we could see a badger picking at its banjo. Angry pulled out his guitar and started playing along, and soon they were raising the canopy with their badger beats.