Deereeree the Wagtail, and the Rainbow

Deereeree the Wagtail, and the Rainbow

Long ago, Deereeree lived with her four little daughters on the wide plains, where wind brushed the grass in the evenings and distant bird calls sounded at night.

Their camp stood near some trees, and by day it was a cheerful place. The girls gathered dry twigs, arranged pebbles in curious patterns, argued over whose feather was prettiest, and were always dreaming up something new.

But at night Deereeree was anxious.

Once darkness fell, every rustle sounded like footsteps to her. One branch brushing another made her tense. A little animal scurrying through the grass made her listen closely.

Then her long, drawn-out call rang over the quiet land:

“Deereeree… waya, waya… Deereeree…”

It was as though she were reminding herself: ‘I’m here. I’m listening. I’m keeping watch.’

One day, Bibby settled nearby. He was a skilful craftsman who loved showing what unusual things he could make. He carved intricate patterns in wood, mended broken objects, and built structures from branches that left everyone marvelling.

Hearing Deereeree’s voice at night, he came in the morning.

“Why didn’t you sleep much?” he asked.

“I heard footsteps,” Deereeree answered. “And when you are responsible for four children, it’s better to listen once more than not hear something important.”

Bibby nodded.

“If you like, I can make my camp a little closer. You might feel more at ease.”

“Thank you,” Deereeree said. “But I want to learn for myself not to fear every sound.”

Several nights passed. Deereeree still called out from time to time:

“Waya, waya… Deereeree…”

And Bibby could hear her voice.

He wanted to help, but he wanted to impress her even more.

“I’ll make something no one has ever seen,” he thought. “Then Deereeree will see what a great craftsman I am.”

He worked for a long time in secret. He collected the colors of the morning dew, the golden glow of the sun, the blue of the distant sky, the green of the leaves after the rain. He added the warm orange of the evening, the red glow of sunset, and the thin purple stripe that is sometimes seen where the sky meets the dark clouds.

From all those colours, he made a great arch.

It stretched across the whole sky, from one end of the earth to the other.

Bibby called it Euluwirri.

When the sun peeked out from behind the clouds after the rain, the colorful road shone so brightly that even the birds fell silent for a moment.

Deereeree was gathering the children for dinner. The youngest daughter was the first to raise her head.

“Mom! Look!”

Deereeree looked up at the sky and froze.

She had never seen anything like it before.

A huge arch of colour stood above the earth, like a path leading straight to the stars.

“What is this?” whispered one of the girls.

Deereeree felt a familiar fear stir in her chest.

“What if this is a sign of danger?”

She quickly gathered the children and went to Bibby’s camp.

He was already waiting, looking contentedly at his own creation.

“See?” he said proudly. “I made it.”

“You?” Deereeree asked.

“Yes. I wanted to show you what I can do. Now you’ll know there’s nothing to fear with me nearby.”

He was about to add something else, but one of Deereeree’s daughters suddenly laughed.

“Why would we be afraid of it? It’s beautiful!”

The second one stretched out her hand towards the sky.

“Look, Mum! It isn’t falling. It isn’t thundering. It’s just shining.”

The third daughter began naming the colours, while the fourth tried counting them and lost count twice.

Deereeree looked from the children to the rainbow.

And her fear gradually melted away.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

Bibby straightened up even more proudly.

“Then did you like my great miracle?”

“I did,” Deereeree replied. “But listen carefully. If you want to help someone who is frightened, don’t give them another mystery just to show how powerful you are. Explain things. Ask what they need. Stay beside them.”

Bibby stopped smiling.

He looked at the rainbow he had made for everyone to admire, then at the four girls who were no longer afraid of it at all.

“I guess I was thinking more about looking strong than about how you felt,” he admitted quietly.

“That can happen,” Deereeree said. “What matters is realising it in time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

From then on, Bibby no longer tried to decide for Deereeree what she should want or be afraid of. But he did help her distinguish the sounds of the night better.

“That’s a little animal rustling in the grass,” he explained.

“And this?”

“A branch rubbing against the trunk.”

“And that short knock?”

“That’s me working on wood,” Bibby said with a laugh.

Soon Deereeree stopped waking at every rustle. She knew the voice of the wind, her children’s footsteps, the whisper of leaves, and the soft patter of the plain’s night creatures.

And yet sometimes, on the quietest summer nights, her voice would rise above the earth again:

“Deereeree… waya, waya… Deereeree…”

Only now it was not so much fear in it as the habit of listening to the world.

The rainbow Euluwirri remained in the sky.

It appeared after rain, when sunlight touched the drops. Each time, it offered a reminder: something that seems strange and frightening at first may prove beautiful once we look closely and understand it.

According to an old story, many years later, Deereeree became a small wagtail, whose voice can be heard in the silence of the evening.

And Bibby turned into a bird, deftly running along the trunks and tirelessly working near the trees, as if he were still building something.

But his most famous creation remained high above them.

Even today, after the rain, it stretches a road of many colours across the sky—the rainbow Euluwirri.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨