It was an extraordinary experience to have the resident emus taking the journey though the paddocks with us. They would race beside the car, keeping pace with the vehicle, peering through the widows at mother and child with dust flying in our wake. The patches of scrub along the way were particularly nerve-racking with no possibility of sighting the troublesome birds in advance. On numerous occasions they streaked from the bush immediately in front of the car, avoiding impact by seconds.  There were times I would be travelling as fast as possible to avoid missing the bus; but we never came to grief. I would often remark with eyes going to the sky that someone up there was looking after us. The bonus of the school bus- run was the contact with a couple of neighbours at the bus stop, women living on farms with children who offered friendly conversation and a smile. It was so very good to have face to face contact with other women, which made the rough ride over the contour banks with the jet-propelled emus seem less of a hassle.

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