Benjamin’s heart was pounding for reasons he could not quite define. He knew Australia did not have man-eating birds or he hoped not. The monster bird dropped something that looked like a piece of cloth from its distinctive hooked beak then, with a deafening screech that threatened the eardrums, it was up and gone, soaring ever higher into the cloudless blue sky.

Bill jumped from behind the tree as he buttoned his trousers. ‘Blimey! What the hell goin’ on?’ He put a finger in one ear and shook his head.

‘It would appear one of your native eagles, which happens to be the largest flying creature I have ever witnessed, popped in to pay his respects.’

Benjamin bent forward and picked up the leather strap the bird dropped.

‘Blimey,’ Bill declared, ‘must be tame or somethin’. Never heard of anyone training a wedge-tail.’ The scruffy truck driver put his finger in his other ear and shook his head. ‘They sure as hell scream like a banshee. I can’t believe some bloke could be so stupid to tame one of them huge buggers – dangerous if you ask me. Most people poke a shotgun at them, especially in sheep country where lambs go missing – ugly, cruel buggers, them wedge-tails.’

     Benjamin took little notice of his companion’s raving rant. He was examining the leather strap that was carved rather crudely with his little sister’s name. It was obviously a hatband. Benjamin pushed it into his coat pocket before it cued Bill into an avalanche of questions. His sister Annie or someone attached to her was the suspected bird trainer and that fact he would not believe in a second. There was something weird and mysterious about the incident which gave the word surreal a whole new dimension. The incident had the disorienting, hallucinatory quality of a dream.

      Benjamin Clarke knew nothing of the Dreaming magic of the aboriginal Head Stockman, Mick Lawton who had the powers of a tribal witchdoctor. This man was little Annie’s best friend. 

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