Letter From America: Didgery-Don't
If you know anything about Australia you probably know what a didgerydoo will do. But what about a didgery-don't. Ronnie Bray lets us into a little mystery.
It hangs from the veranda rafters directly over the handrail and provides a perch for chickadees that are waiting their turn to feed from the seed tray.
To the quizzed and nonplussed, its designation is boldly written in permanent marker along its length, proclaiming, Didgery-Don’t!
There are other markings that counterfeit my impressions of what cryptic Australian aboriginal tribal markings should be, though it is doubtful if any tribesmen would offer hearty agreement. Still, one does one’s best.
"What’s a Didgery-Don’t?" I hear you ask.
Good question.
It all started in the run-up to Halloween of 2002 when I saw this scarecrow at K-Mart in Ponderay, Idaho, about 75 miles from our home, the nearest place for real shopping. It was cute and discounted, an irresistible marketing combination.
From its straw hat, its gaudy surreal face painted economically on its cloth head, to its bumpkin jacket and trousers it said, "Take me home with you!"
I did, and hung it on a young alder tree at the side of our gravel drive.
After that, the weather got at it. A little wind, a little rain, and it began to look less and less cheerful.
Then the Chinese twine that strung it all together got wet, rotted, and broke, plunging most of the poor fellow onto the ground where the dogs did unmentionable things to the little intruder.
The three-foot length of inch and a half diameter bamboo cane, on which it had been rigged, fell away.
I undertook to jury rig it with the aid of a couple of ubiquitous wire coat hangers, and gathered the redundant bamboo pole to my stock of useful-items-that-will-come-in-handy-some-day! thrn nailed the scarecrow to the tree.
Some time later, during one of my idle moments, I came across the pole and was immediately gripped by the creative urge to transform it into a work of art.
I couldn’t think of anything remotely Montanian to fashion from it, but it was long and had a hole in the top, so, naturally, I thought of a Didgerydoo. Except – well – this cane had knuckles in it, as bamboo is wont to have, and at each knuckle, a hard wooden disc blocked the shaft.
Having neither the time, tools, nor inclination to drill them out, I carried on with the artwork and called it a Didgery-Don’t, because what a Didgery-do will do what a Didgery-do should do. But this Didgerydoo emphatically don’t do what a Didgerydoo should do, and that makes it a Didgery-don’t!
I had thought about going into production, but I have not yet met an American who knows much about Australia, much less about Aboriginal matters, so I decided against trying to make a dent in an obviously closed market, and resigned myself to watching my bird friends hang on to it as I enjoy their feathered beauty.
And there you have the whole of the story. What good is it? None at all, unless you are a chickadee queuing up to get seed from the feeder. You aren’t? Well, at least if someone ever mentions it to you, you will be able to tell them all about it.
Copyright © 2004 Ronnie Bray
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
