Gooloo the Magpie, and the Wahroogah

Gooloo the Magpie, and the Wahroogah

Once, in a faraway Australian land, where dry grass rustled at the lightest breath of wind and great stars rose above the plains each evening, there lived a magpie named Gooloo.

Gooloo was no longer young. She knew a great deal about seeds, roots, berries, and the places where the best plants grew after rain. She could grind grain into flour, bake little flatbreads, and find honey in places others overlooked.

But Gooloo had one bad habit.

If she wanted something, she did not always ask honestly.

Sometimes it seemed to her that it was easier to get what she wanted by trickery.

One day, several families made camp near her home. With the adults were children known as the Wahroogah in the old tale.

The camp became noisy and cheerful.

The children ran among the trees, arranged stones in patterns, argued over who had spotted a lizard first, and laughed so loudly that even Gooloo, sitting some distance away, kept turning to look at them.

“It would be nice if they stayed with me,” she thought.

But instead of coming up and saying, “I’m lonely. Can I sit with you?” Gooloo came up with a clever plan.

The next morning she came to the adults with a basket.

“I know a place where there are a lot of good roots, berries, and honey right now,” she said. “If you go there together, you will bring enough food to last you a long time.”

“And the children?” asked one of the mothers.

“Leave them with me,” Gooloo answered immediately. “I will look after them. I have flatbreads and honey. Let them rest in the shade.”

The adults had known Gooloo for a long time. She lived nearby, knew the area, and this time she spoke very gently.

They agreed to stay nearby and return by noon.

When the adults went to gather food, Gooloo set a bowl of small flatbreads in front of the children.

“Help yourselves,” she said. “Have a little honey too. It’s sweet, but your tummy won’t be happy if you eat too much.”

The children laughed.

At first everything was fine.

They ate, played, and asked for water.

Then Gooloo said:

“Do you want to see my secret place? There is a big old tree there, hollow inside. Like a real house.”

The children became curious.

“Is it far?”

“No, very close,” Gooloo assured them.

She led them along a path through the grass.

One child, the most attentive of all, noticed that Gooloo was not going where they usually walked.

“And will the adults know where we are?” she asked.

“Of course,” Gooloo said quickly.

But she answered too quickly.

The child did not like it.

She held a few grains left over from breakfast. Quietly, she began dropping them one by one along the path.

One near a stone.

One near a dry stump.

Another where the path forked.

Finally Gooloo led the children to a huge old tree.

There was a wide hollow in the trunk.

“Come in,” she said. “It’s cool here.”

The children went inside.

At first they really liked it. The tree smelled of dry bark, and a thin ray of light was shining through the crack at the top.

But suddenly Gooloo covered the entrance with a wicker shutter.

“Why did you do that?” the children asked.

Gooloo sat down outside.

“Because I want you to stay with me. My home hasn’t been this happy for a long time.”

“But we want to go to our families!”

“You’ll get used to it,” said Gooloo.

Then the children understood: this was no longer a game.

The youngest ones began to cry.

The older ones tried to calm them down.

“Let’s not all shout at once,” said the watchful child. “We should think of a way to help them find us.”

They examined the hollow.

There was a narrow crack between the bark and the wicker shutter.

You could put your fingers through it.

There were dry pods and small stones lying on the ground.

“Let’s send a signal,” the children decided.

They began to knock on the tree with a stone.

Knock-knock.

Pause.

Knock-knock-knock.

And again.

At first, Gooloo ordered them to stop.

And then she thought:

“Let them knock. Who will hear them here?”

But the old tree carried the sound a long way.

Meanwhile, the adults returned to the camp.

“Children!” they called.

No one answered.

Gooloo was not there either.

They grew worried at once.

People set off in different directions, looking for tracks.

And then one of the mothers noticed a seed near the stone.

“How strange. Nothing with seeds like this grows here.”

A little further away lay another one.

Then another.

“It’s no coincidence,” she said.

They followed the seeds.

The path led them to a dry stump, then to a crossroads, and from there to an old tree.

And then everyone heard:

Knock-knock.

Pause.

Knock-knock-knock.

“There!” someone shouted.

The adults ran to the tree.

Gooloo jumped to her feet.

“I only wanted…”

“Open it first,” one of the mothers said firmly.

Gooloo pushed the shutter open.

The children ran out.

Some rushed straight into their families’ arms. Others angrily explained what had happened. Some simply held an adult’s hand in silence and would not let go.

When everyone had calmed down, the people returned to Gooloo.

They didn’t shout or threaten her.

But they were very serious.

“We trusted you with our children,” they said. “Trust is not something you can keep for yourself. If you’re lonely, you can tell us. If you want company, you can invite people. But you must never shut in those who want to leave.”

Gooloo lowered her head.

Her clever plan no longer seemed clever at all.

She had wanted a cheerful home, but what she got was frightened children’s voices and distrust.

“I was afraid that if I just asked you, you would leave,” she said quietly.

“Maybe we would,” one of the women replied. “But then it would be our choice. And tomorrow we could come again.”

Gooloo was silent for a long time.

Then she brought all the honey, flatbreads, and grain she had.

“That will not undo what I have done,” she said. “But I want to regain at least some of your trust.”

The next day, Gooloo was not left alone.

She went with everyone to gather food.

The children stayed close to their families, but one of them, the attentive one who had left the grain trail, approached Gooloo.

“If you like, you can show us how to bake those little flatbreads,” she said. “Just no secret houses.”

Gooloo smiled sadly.

“Agreed.”

From then on, when she wanted company, she no longer thought up tricks.

She would come and ask.

Sometimes people would say “yes.”

Sometimes, “not today.”

And Gooloo learned to accept both answers.

True closeness does not begin by keeping someone beside you against their will.

It begins where you can come freely, go freely—and want to come back again.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨