Chapter Three On the Spoor of the Story
"The thing to do is to work with whatever is at hand," Mrs. Tweedlebare said hardly wishing to encourage the youngest of writers to consider writing an easy way to make a buck.
Mrs. Tweedlebare munched her sixth or was it her seventh gingersnap? While waiting for Mary, she debated with herself about giving up gingersnaps, counting them that is. She decided to continue her count even if she had to fudge the numbers a bit. One never knew when something far more dreadful than Freddie Fudge would materialize requiring her to keep her mind occupied. It was not so much the final number that counted; it was the counting that counted.
Mary took a gulp of milk and a deep breath, which made her choke. After a brief coughing spell, she began anew.
"The first thing that you need to know about the Blue and Gold Macaw is that it is prone to emitting ear deafening shrieks."
She sounds just like the guide at the San Diego Zoo, Mrs. Tweedlebare thought. "Just a moment," she said with a deadpan face. "Let me get this down."
In her steno pad, she wrote, Mary sounds exactly like the guide at the San Diego Zoo. Mrs. Tweedlebare flipped the page and smiled. "Please continue."
When gathering data, one of the first rules is to be as sweet as honey no matter what, Mrs. Tweedlebare told herself. I must be nice when the informant has stated the obvious. I have to be nice when the informant has strayed off the subject. She suddenly remembered Dragnet. When she was Mary's age, Dragnet was a TV favourite. Sergeant Friday would say, "The facts, ma'am, just the facts." She was tempted to ape him. Mrs. Tweedlebare reflected ruefully that as soon as she thought about Sergeant Friday, she had drifted off topic. She snapped back and reached for her sixth or was it her seventh gingersnap? Enough of gingersnaps, Mrs. Tweedlebare decided. She snapped her sixth or seventh or even eighth gingersnap contentedly before munching it.
Mary’s story was becoming interesting. Mrs. Tweedlebare had to remind herself that she was only taking down information because she wished to help Mary with her story. She was not gathering information for a story of her own. Why do I have to keep reminding myself? She had asked that question more than once in the brief time that she had been amidst the Melancholy family.
"Uncle Herman says that the Macaw uses his shriek to establish his territory. I’m not exactly sure what he means by that."
On a fresh page, Mrs. Tweedlebare wrote, Not as precocious as first indicated. "He uses his blood-curdling shriek in order to scare other birds away from his food, I would imagine. Undoubtedly, most effectively too."
Mrs. Tweedlebare could not resist the opportunity to comment that the tones uttered by the Blue and Gold Macaw did not make him fit company for afternoon tea. "And to warn other Macaws of danger," she added. "You never know when you will find yourself in jeopardy in the jungle."
"I always watch it," Mary said.
"Watch what?"
"Jeopardy."
"So do I," Mrs. Tweedlebare replied hoping that Mary wouldn't turn future statements into questions. The facts, just the facts, she thought as she waited for Mary to get back on track.
"Did you know Christopher Columbus gave his Queen a pair of Amazon Parrots?"
"Interesting," Mrs. Tweedlebare said.
She nodded. All the while, Mrs. Tweedlebare was champing at the bit like a thoroughbred eager to burst past the starting gate. She waited patiently for Mary to find her way back to Freddie. Mary persisted in her ramble.