Spark a blaze – The Hindu

Long ago, in the bush country, there was no fire. Everyone ate their food raw. Or they left it in the sun to dry. It was slow, chewy and not very tasty.

One day, Bootoolgah the crane rubbed two dry sticks together and, suddenly, a tiny spark jumped out. This was followed by a thin line of smoke. “Look,” he said to Goonur, the kangaroo rat, “see what comes when I rub these pieces of wood together: smoke! Would it not be good if we could make fire for ourselves with which to cook our food, so as not to have to wait for the sun to dry it?”

Goonur’s eyes grew wide. “Put some dry grass and bark inside the split stick,” she said. “Even one spark might catch.”

Dancing flames

Bootoolgah did as he was told and WHOOSH! A small flame flickered to life. They had made fire! They laughed and danced around it. Then they cooked their fish. It smelled wonderful and tasted even better. “This is our secret,” they whispered. “We’ll cook our food in the scrub where no one can see.”

So they hid their fire sticks in seed pods, carried one hidden in Goonur’s little bag called comebee, and went off to the scrub to cook their fish.

When they returned to camp with their fish, the others stared.

“Why does your fish look different?” they asked.

“Sun-dried,” said Bootoolgah quickly.

But everyone knew it wasn’t. Every day, the two disappeared … and came back with delicious-looking fish. Soon, the tribe grew curious.

“We must follow them,” they said.

Boolooral, the owl, and Quarrian, the parrot, followed them and saw them lighting a fire and cooking the fish. They flew back to the others and shouted, “They have fire!”

Everyone wanted fire. But they could get it from Bootoolgah and Goonur only by trickery. So, they planned a huge corroboree, a dance. All the tribes came. There was music and dancing. Everyone was having a great time. Bootoolgah and Goonur were also there. But they were careful with the comebee in which they had hidden their fire sticks. Soon, they were having such a good time that they forgot about the firesticks.

Beeargah, the hawk, was waiting for an opportune moment. Quickly, he jumped up and grabbed the comebee, pulled out the fire-stick, and touched it to the grass. Whoosh! A big fire leapt up. He ran along the grass, lighting it up as he went. Soon, there were fires everywhere. The secret was out.

From that day on, every tribe learned to make fire. They cooked their food. They stayed warm at night. They told stories around the flames.

Bootoolgah and Goonur sighed. Their secret was gone. But everyone was happy. “Maybe,” they thought, “this is better.”

Folktales are an oral tradition with stories being handed across generations. The stories are not necessarily true.