The PR Blog

Ratty News Special: “From Gondwana to Dusty Gulch: The Ostrich Problem”

By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Special Correspondent

It began with a harmless question over a cup of tea and a lamington: “How many toes does an emu have?” The answer -  three -  ought to have settled the matter.

But in Dusty Gulch, even a question of toes can lead straight to trouble and once Gondwana is mentioned, you know you’re in for an argument about migration, belonging, and who gets to rearrange the paddock. Yes, dear readers, Gondwana’s Great Ratite Rumble: Who Rules the Paddock? has begun.... murmours in Dusty Gulch are rife as Emus Defend Paddocks as Ostriches Demand Savannah in Dusty Gulch Showdown!

Sharp eyed reader Frank noted that our lead image in the Emu Wars article written by Editor in Chief, Monty, only had two toes on one foot. As was explained at the time, some cried “Photoshop!” Others whispered “genetic engineering!” A few even suggested the bird was a Kiwi in disguise.

But let me set the record straight. After extensive whisker-twitching investigations, Ratty News can confirm: this is no flaw. This is history.

Our brave feathered veteran lost his toe in the original Emu War of 1932. Legend has it he was cornered near Campion, Western Australia, and faced down a soldier armed with nothing but a rusty machete and bad aim. The digger got the toe. The emu got away. Some call it luck. We call it grit.

Yet our coat of Arms shows a strange anomaly. 4 toes. So what is going on? Politics, or just bad art? Is the emu really an ancient moa, about to become extinct?  Read on and discover the truly amazing tale of the Ratites, written by a rat, on Ratty News for Ratty Readers. 

So here it all is and how we arrived at the Great Ratite Summit of Dusty Gulch. 

Long ago, in the days of the supercontinent Gondwana, all the great ratites shared a common ancestor. From that ancient stock, the family scattered when the land broke apart:

After much research and travel by Ratty Airways around the globe, I completed my toe count and learned the following: 

• Ostriches went to Africa, becoming savannah sprinters, heads in the sand but legs like pistons.

• Cassowaries claimed the coasts and rainforests of Australia and New Guinea, dangerous loners with a penchant for cracking skulls.

• Kiwis shuffled into the cool forests of New Zealand, small, shy, and content to fossick in the dark. Moas were hunted down for feathers and food and disappeared. 

• Emus stayed in Australia, marching across open scrub, stubborn survivors of drought and dust.

• And in Madagascar, the elephant bird grew to monstrous size, until it marched itself clean off history’s stage.

All cousins, all branches of the same ancient tree. But family reunions, as any rat will tell you, can be messy.

Here in Dusty Gulch, the emus are cheesed off. An ostrich has arrived. At first it was a novelty -  long legs, fancy stride, tales of Africa. But soon it was squawking that the Gulch should look more like home. “This scrub’s no good. Where’s the wide savannah? Where’s the endless plain? Let’s plant grass, clear some trees, and lay out a running track!”

The emus were not amused. “This is our paddock,” they snapped. “We’ve survived the droughts, dodged the dingoes and survived the Emu War, and marched this dust into shape. If anyone adapts, it’s the ostrich. Dusty Gulch does not adapt to you.”

The kiwi, shy but well-meaning, piped up: “But aren’t we all Gondwanan family?”

The emus fluffed their feathers. “Family’s one thing. Bulldozing the termite mounds is another.”

Meanwhile, from the coast, the cassowary muttered darkly: “Boundaries matter.” And when a cassowary mutters, even ostriches take notice.

So here we are: an ancient Gondwanan family tree, roots in common, branches spread across the globe - now squabbling over whose way of life should dominate Dusty Gulch.

Roderick’s closing nibble: “Migration is as old as Gondwana. The problem isn’t that the ostrich came to Dusty Gulch. The problem is when the ostrich insists that Dusty Gulch must become Ostrichland. Family trees may bind us, but only respect for the paddock keeps the peace.”

Ratty News Special Report: “The Great Ratite Summit”

Filed by Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Political Correspondent at Large

The Dusty Gulch CWA Hall played host last night to the first ever Ratite Summit on Migration and Belonging. Delegates from across Gondwana (or what’s left of it) gathered beneath the tin roof to debate who belongs where, and under what conditions.

Opening Remarks: The Emu

Flanked by two rather grumpy cockatoos serving as security, the Emu delegation took the stage first.
“Dusty Gulch is our paddock,” the Emu thundered. “We’ve marched it, suffered it, and raised chicks in it. Visitors are welcome, but the scrub won’t be bulldozed for anyone’s running track. Adapt to the Gulch, don’t demand the Gulch adapt to you.” The crowd stomped in approval.

The Ostrich’s Reply

Tall, elegant, and a little out of breath after the long jog in, the Ostrich took the microphone. He strode in like he already had the plans drawn up for the savannah.
“We mean no offence,” he said, “but savannah living is superior. Wide grasslands, fast running lanes, open skies -  who wouldn’t want that? Surely Dusty Gulch could be improved with a little Ostrich flair In fact, if you don't roll out a nice red carpet and submit to our demands, we'll accuse you of ostrichophobia.”

At this, the emus rustled their feathers angrily, and one cockatoo had to be restrained.Maurice the EDuck started feverishly taking notes and was booking a special session at the Dusty Gulch Courthouse to prosecute the emus for hate speech and nasty thoughts. 

The Kiwi’s Intervention

From the corner of the stage came a small voice. The Kiwi shuffled forward, notes clutched in one claw.
“Brothers, sisters, cousins,” it began softly. Nobody heard the rest because the microphone was taller than the Kiwi.

The Cassowary’s Warning

Finally, the Cassowary approached. No speech notes, no entourage -  just a stare that could fell a McFookit Burger joint in 5 seconds flat.
“Respect boundaries,” he said flatly. “Respect forests. Respect Gulch. Or deal with me.” The message was short, sharp, and to the point. The Ostrich backed away quickly. He was last seen breaking the speed record out of Dusty Gulch and heading towards Melbourne. 

It seems that the Cassowary was the big winner for the day. A big powerful bird with a strong attitude seems to be all it takes to out an ostrich.

So what’s the lesson here, my fine furred readers? Adaptation. While humans argue over who’s paying for the beer fund, these birds are refining their war machine, toe by toe. Some for speed, some for strength, some for stabbing.

Perhaps the real question is: are we adapting fast enough, or will the Second Emu War end with us hobbling on the wrong foot?

Stay sharp, stay nimble, and remember  -  never trust a bird with a machete in his toes. This is Roderick (Whiskers ) McNibble signing out until next time. 

This article is satire. It uses humour, exaggeration, and a sprinkle of cheekiness to make a point. It’s not meant to be taken literally or as factual reporting. If you’re looking for straight news, this ain’t it. But if you enjoy a good laugh and a bit of honest reflection, you’re in the right place.