Right after breakfast, the Professor sent Gilligan to cut bamboo poles for part of their "emergency preparations." Not long after, the Skipper, puffing steam like an angry tugboat, was about to go after him.

"Where is Gilligan? He should have been back ages ago!"

"I'll go get him, Skipper," said Mary Ann hurriedly. "You just finish up what you've go to do." She knew the valley where they normally harvested bamboo, and quickly made her way along the well-marked jungle trail.

A native of the prairies, Mary Ann was constantly amazed by the island. When she finally emerged from the thick jungle, she sighed in wonder at the soaring velvet green mountains, fold upon fold, that sheltered the narrow valley. Crystal ribbons of water wound their way down from the misty heights to vanish in the lush greenery below. Birdsong filled the air like an ode to joy.

At last Mary Ann spotted the telltale red shirt and white hat near a stand of young bamboo. The first mate was crouched on the ground, tying off a cord of freshly hewn bamboo poles. Mary Ann rushed over. "Gilligan! There you are!"

Gilligan turned as he finished the last vine square knot. "Hi, Mary Ann. What are you doing out here?"

"I came to bring you back to camp. The Skipper's getting awfully impatient for that bamboo."

Gilligan stood up with a snort of frustration. "How do you like that? I came out here and started cutting bamboo as fast as I could! Who does the Skipper think I am, Paul Bunman or something?"

Mary Ann's lip quirked up for an instant. "I think you mean Paul Bunyan."

"Oh. Oh yeah."

"Gilligan, I know you haven't been gone long, but the Skipper's pretty on edge about this whole earthquake preparation. He's been running around like a turkey in a barnyard the day before Thanksgiving!"

Gilligan's ire evaporated with a knowing smile. "Yeah – it figures. Don't get me wrong, Mary Ann: the Skipper's the bravest man I ever knew. But I guess it can't be easy, feeling responsible for everybody."

"Guess not." Mary Ann shivered. "I don't mind telling you, Gilligan, I'm pretty on edge myself! To think that at any moment the earth could just open and swallow us up!"

Gilligan gulped and jumped backwards from the imaginary fissure that gaped at his feet. Only when he saw that the ground was still whole did he breathe a sigh of relief. "I gotta admit it – I'm scared too, Mary Ann. But as long as we do what the Professor says, we should be okay…" he paused, eyes flicking away in a moment of doubt, "…I think."

"That's what I mean. It's all so uncertain! If we were back home in Kansas, at least we could run to the root cellar!"

Gilligan stared. "Root cellar? How can you hide from an earthquake in—" his eyes suddenly flew wide in understanding. "Oh, you mean the tornadoes! Like in the Wizard of Oz! Boy, you must have to be brave to live in Kansas!"

"Brave? Oh, I wish I were, Gilligan." She shivered again, rubbing her arms. "I wish I could be like the Howells and Ginger. They don't seem scared."

Gilligan raised a dubious eyebrow. "Maybe they should be. My grandmother always used to say," and he hunched over and croaked in a reedy soprano, "'Anybody who isn't jumpy when it makes good sense to be jumpy is just a blamed fool!'"

Mary Ann smiled. "Your grandmother sounds like a very wise old lady. Thanks, Gilligan."

Suddenly they heard a loud cawing from the edge of the jungle, and Gilligan held out his wrist with a welcoming smile. "Hey! What are you looking so worried about? If there's an earthquake, at least you can fly over it!"

Mary Ann turned to see what he was looking at. What seemed like a living flash of flame burst from the greenery, sailed through the air, and landed on the cuff of Gilligan's sleeve.

"Hey, boy," murmured Gilligan.

"Oh, my gosh," whispered Mary Ann.

A bird was sitting on Gilligan's wrist: a bird like no other Mary Ann had ever seen. It was only about the size of a crow, but its bright yellow and green head, powder blue beak, orange body and magnificent tail of long scarlet plumes were like something out of the Arabian Nights. It cocked its head curiously at the girl as Gilligan scratched its breast feathers gently.

"Oh, Gilligan! What is that?"

The first mate grinned with pride. "He's a Raggiana Bird of Paradise. Pretty swell name for such a little guy, huh?"

"I'll say. I've never heard of one before!"

"Me neither, until he showed up a few weeks ago. I showed him to the Professor and we looked him up in one of the Professor's books."

"Are there many of them on the island?"

"Nope. They're not from around here. The Professor says he must have been blown off course by a big storm." Gilligan smiled ruefully at her. "Kind of like us, I guess."

"He looks like he has long red hair!"

"Yeah. If he were a girl, I could have called him Ginger."

Mary Ann chuckled. "What do you call him?"

"Rusty. I had this friend back home: Rusty O'Boyle. When he and his whole family used to sit in the front bleachers at a ball game it was like looking down at a pumpkin patch."

"I can just picture it!" Mary Ann chuckled again, then sighed a little, looking wistfully at the bird. "It's funny. Would you believe I used to have a pet bird named Rusty too?"

Gilligan's blue eyes widened in delighted surprise. "No kidding? What was he? A budgie? A parakeet?

She shook her head, laughing. "A rooster."

"Oh, yeah, it figures! On the farm!"

"Yes. He used to strut around as if he owned the place. He even used to chase my dog Jack if he got too near the hens!"

Gilligan raised his eyebrows. "Gee, I've heard of bird dogs, but that's ridiculous!"

They both laughed for a moment. Then Gilligan looked down at the bird, and back at Mary Ann. "Mary Ann, would you like to pet him? I'll bet he'd like you."

Mary Ann bit her lip and looked at the creature with great longing. "Oh, Gilligan, I'd love to! I'd be so gentle with him. But would he let me? He's wild!"

"He's not afraid of me."

"None of the wild things are," said Mary Ann quietly. "It's amazing."

"No, it's not. I just don't try to catch them, that's all. I let them come to me." Gilligan turned his hand carefully over and extended it towards her while the bird climbed delicately into his palm. She hesitated, her little hand held in the air. "Don't worry, Mary Ann. Just take it slow."

She reached out and gently scratched the bird's breast feathers, marveling at its delicate beauty. When the creature continued to sit quite still, Mary Ann broke into a smile of wonder and tentatively reached up to stroke the shimmering wing. Her fingers brushed Gilligan's hand.

"Oh, it's so wonderful to touch him! And he doesn't try to get away!"

"Told you so. He trusts you. He knows you won't hurt him."

She smiled, fingers brushing Gilligan's hand again. "I'd like to think he knows."

Suddenly the bird stood up and bowed down, spreading its wings. Mary Ann drew her hand back as the bird reared its tail plumes into a scarlet Mohawk headdress over its back. Soon it was hopping madly up and down, cawing all the while in a performance so bizarre that the two humans burst into laughter.

"Gilligan, what's he doing?"

"Rusty! What's the big idea? Stop flirting with Mary Ann!"

"What?"

Gilligan grinned. "He's doing his mating dance. Isn't it a riot?"

The two castaways howled as the bird bounced and kicked and cavorted like a showgirl in a Las Vegas review. Only when it finally settled down, ruffling its stormy red feathers back into place, could either human catch their breath. Mary Ann wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "Well, thank you, Rusty! You sure know how to flatter a girl!"

"Rusty, you're too much! What a wise guy!"

"I think he's sweet." She looked up at the first mate. "And so are you, Gilligan. I really needed that after this morning." Suddenly she gasped. "Oh golly – I forgot! I'm supposed to be bringing you back to camp!"

"Oh, yeah!" Gilligan popped the bird onto his hat as he bent to lift the cord of bamboo onto his back. When he straightened again, Rusty hopped back down onto his shoulder. "All right, Rusty. You can come along too. Well, come on, Mary Ann. We better get going before the Skipper's got so much steam coming out of his ears he looks like a Chinese laundry!"

Together they left the misty valley, their fond laughter fading amid the birdsong and falling water.