Mooregoo the Mopoke, and Mooninguggahgul the Mosquito Bird

Mooregoo the Mopoke, and Mooninguggahgul the Mosquito Bird

Long ago, when the night sky seemed closer to the earth and people listened closely to bird calls, there lived an old craftsman named Mooregoo. With him lived his two wives, sisters known as Mooninguggahgul, and two sons who were nearly grown.

Mooregoo was patient and skilful. Above all, he loved making boomerangs. He chose good wood, carefully shaped it with stone tools, polished it, rubbed it with fat, and checked every curve. Day by day, finished boomerangs gathered beside his home until they filled four large nets.

Meanwhile, his sons often went hunting. They were young, fast and agile. In the morning they disappeared behind the bushes, and returned in the evening.

But they had one bad habit: whatever they gathered or caught, they cooked and ate themselves on the way home.

At first the father was silent. Then one day he asked:

“Sons, if you have good luck today, bring me a little fat. I need it to rub into the new boomerangs.”

“We will,” the boys replied cheerfully.

And indeed, in the evening they gave their father what he asked. But they brought nothing more.

Mooregoo looked at them and quietly asked:

“And what about food for the house?”

The sons looked at each other.

“We were hungry and ate everything on the way.”

The old man said nothing. He kept rubbing the wood, but his heart grew heavy.

He remembered carrying his sons in his arms, sharing his last morsel with them, and teaching them to read tracks, find water, and keep their way on long journeys. Now that they had grown, they seemed to have forgotten that a home depends not only on strong legs and skilful hands, but on caring for one another.

The next morning Mooregoo called his sons.

"I have finished the new boomerangs. Take them to the plain and try them out. See how well they fly."

The boys were delighted. They loved practicing with boomerangs and quickly carried four nets to the open plain.

The first son swung and threw the boomerang.

It flew high.

Very high.

And did not return.

"Strange," said the boy.

The second threw his.

And this one also went up, spun like a small dark line against the sky and disappeared.

They threw the third, fourth, fifth…

One by one the boomerangs rose higher and higher, as if finding an invisible path to the very sky.

When the last one disappeared from sight, it became unusually quiet over the plain.

And then somewhere in the distance the wind blew.

At first it sounded thin, like a whisper in the dry grass. Then the wind’s voice deepened. Dust turned in a little spiral. The spiral grew, lifted leaves, and became a towering whirlwind.

“Home!” shouted the older brother.

But the whirlwind was already approaching.

The boys grabbed a tree. The wind shook it, but did not touch the brothers. They ran to the second. The whirlwind swept right next to them, whistled in the branches and swirled around them.

Finally the brothers pressed against two strong mubbu trees.

“Hold on!” one shouted.

“I am!” the other replied.

And then the incredible happened.

Instead of knocking down the trees, the whirlwind gently picked them up along with the boys. The earth began to recede. The bushes became small. The paths turned into thin threads. And then the whole plain remained below.

The boys were scared, but the wind did not throw them or hurt them. It carried them higher and higher until the wide bright strip of the Milky Way stretched out before them.

There the whirlwind stopped.

All around them, the scattered boomerangs shone silver, as though each had become part of a vast pattern in the sky.

Then the brothers understood: this was not meant merely to frighten them. Their father wanted them to feel how easily they could lose the way home if they forgot those waiting for them.

In the evening, the Mooninguggahgul sisters became worried.

“Why have the boys been away so long?”

They went looking for them. On the plain they saw traces of a strong whirlwind, then places where trees stood, and then the traces disappeared.

The women returned home sad.

But when night fell, a familiar voice came from the sky.

“Mom!”

The sisters ran out of their home and looked up.

Beside the Milky Way shone two new signs in the sky. Nearby stretched a strange path of small, bright curves, as though someone had laid out boomerangs among the stars.

The mothers understood where their sons were.

They returned to Mooregoo.

“You wanted to teach them to remember their family,” one sister said. “But your lesson was too harsh.”

“Even when you feel hurt, you must not let anger decide for you,” the other added.

Mooregoo was silent for a long time.

For the first time, he saw not only his sons’ ingratitude but his own mistake. He had been so eager to teach them a lesson that he had forgotten when to stop.

“You are right,” he finally said. “I cannot turn back time. But from now on my voice will remind everyone: anger does not bring a family closer.”

They say Mooregoo left his human form that night and became a night bird. His long, drawn-out call sounded in the darkness:

“Mooregoo… mooregoo…”

Since then this voice could be heard in the silence of the night.

And the Mooninguggahgul sisters also became birds. On warm summer evenings they called out:

“Mooninguggahgul… Mooninguggahgul…”

At their call, mosquitoes appeared in the air and began to buzz around, as if a whole tiny choir was responding to the birds’ voices.

And high above the ground, the brothers remained near the Milky Way, next to a scattering of celestial boomerangs.

And when someone looked at the bright road among the stars, the elders reminded the children:

“Do you see the sky? It is vast. Yet even in a world so vast, we must remember the way home. Share what you have. Care for those who cared for you. And when you are angry, stop and think before stirring a whirlwind around you.”

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨