Meerkat Madness Flying High. Ian Whybrow

      “Oh, do hurry up, Mimi!” squeaked Little Dream, who was on top of a drie doring bush taking his turn as look-out. “It’s way past time for you to take over from me!” He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his tired eyes, but only for a moment. Unlike most meerkats, he had been born without the dark eye-patches that protect the sky-watcher from the dazzling rays of the desert sun. Many a suntime ago, he had dug a Safari-man action-doll out of the sand near the pointy mounds where the Blah-blahs camped – far away in the kingdom of the Sharpeyes. He simply could not have managed without Safari-man’s cool-looking eye-wear. And Uncle felt the same about Safari-man’s stylish pith helmet and safari scarf: he never went anywhere without them.

      “Skeema!” said Uncle. “You’re pretty good at the scorpion dance these days! Show the babies how it’s done.”

      “Skeema dance, Skeema dance,” chirped the babies, clambering over each other to get a front-row seat.

      Skeema gave a very nice demonstration of sniffing, listening, turning stones, rapidly moving the sand and… turning up… a scorpion!

      “Nice work, Skeema. Now, babies, watch how he dances him. That’s it, Skeema, dart and dodge. Quick and tricky or he’ll sting your nose!

      Forward-forward – JUMP!

      In-in – and – BACK!

      You see, Zora? Watch Skeema, Quickpaws. Up comes the sting and WHOOPS! – mind-yer-nose! And

      Up comes the sting and WHOOPS! – missed-again! And

      Up comes the sting and BITE-it-right-off! Hooray! Well danced, Skeema! Now give Bundle a taste of what you caught. Nice, Bundle? Yum-yum-scrummy, eh? Just wait your turn, Trouble. Trouble! Don’t throw sand on Bundle. TROUBLE! Now look. You’ve buried him! You’ve made him cough. That’s not nice, is it? No, and it’s not funny!”