Owl was just putting away his morning paper — which was a sheet of paper he took out every morning to place carefully on the table beside his breakfast — when there was a sharp rapping at his door.
“Goodness sakes,” he said to himself, “the intonation of that rapping put me in mind of a small paw. could Roo be visiting so early?”
He opened the door to find that it wasn’t Roo at all; it was a small bluish-gray bird with a crest on his head and long legs.
“Good morning,” said Owl.
“G’day, mate,” said the bird, hopping right past Owl into the house. “Saw your kip here and decided to pop in for a cuppa. If ya have a cuppa to spare, that is. What about it, mate?”
“If you are referring to a cup of tea, why, yes, I still have some tea in the pot,” said Owl, who was a bit dumbfounded by this new visitor. My name is Owl,” he said, “who are you?”
“Right sorry there, mate,” said the bird cheerily, “Kagu’s the name. Just in these parts for a holiday, o’course. Ah, thanks mate, that’ll do me up right proper.” Kagu took the cup of tea from Owl and sipped it before settling comfortably in Owl’s favorite chair. “Oy, this is a right proper cuppa, Owl. Whatcha do for water all the way up in this tree? Store it in a kalpis?”
“I beg your pardon?” said Owl, who didn’t know what a kalpis was.
“Or maybe a keeve?” asked Kagu, peering around. “Nah, don’t see one. No worries, no room for something like that in here. You might have a touch of kenophobia, mate; everything’s in its place and every place has its thing, don’t it?”
“Er…you said you were visiting?” ventured Owl, trying to change the subject in order to have a better idea what they were talking about.
“Right-o!” said Kagu. “Hopped a ketch from New Caledonia and traveled with a kea and a kiang; off to see the world the three of us were. The ketch lost its killock in a big blow and fetched up along the coast not far away from here. That put a kinkle in me plans, but I hit the road right away and wound up on your doorstep, right? I’m kinetogenic; my motto is keep moving so the kinkajou don’t catch up with ya.”
“Yes, of course,” said Owl, who found he had already lost track of what they were talking about again. “Did you just say ‘kea’, ‘kiang’, killock’, ‘kinkle’, and ‘kinetogenic’?”
“That I did, mate,” said Kagu cheerily. “You missed ‘kinkajou’ though. Sorry if you think I’m a trifle kitthoge, but I’ve got the same hobby as my friend Klipspringer: seeing as how my name starts with ‘k’, I collect as many ‘k’ words as I can. Say, you wouldn’t have a bit of kohlrabi about, would you? I’m feeling a bit peckish.”
“I can offer you a seed cake,” said Owl, holding out a plate.
“That’s right square of you mate,” said Kagu, taking two. “I’ve a fear of kraurosis caused by starvation, so as they say, ‘I eat like a bird’!” He laughed loudly at his own joke. “Get it, mate? ‘Eat like a bird’, said the bloke with feathers!”
“Ha ha,” said Owl politely.
Kagu had finished his tea and his seed cakes, and abruptly got up from the chair. “Well mate, many thanks,” he said to Owl, “but I’m off, me. Like to keep moving, I do. P’raps I’ll stop by again on my way back, but then again I might not take the same road. Pleasure t’meetcha, Owl!” And with that, Kagu hopped out Owl’s front door and flew away.
Owl settled down gratefully in his favorite chair. “What a curious episode,” he said. “I shall have to inform my acquaintances about that unusual fellow. It will, at least, make for an interesting evening of conversation. I wonder why Kagu stopped at my house on his trek? Perhaps it was simply kismet.”
