‘It’s not proper rewilding,’ said Kim. ‘More like rainforest regeneration. But you’re welcome to have a look.’
‘But what about the dingoes?’ asked Hayley. ‘Taj said —’ A furious kicking came from the truck. ‘I’d better go. Taj is coming home with me. Nobody can handle One-Ear like he does.’
A surge of irritation hit Kim, and she shook it away. Why shouldn’t Hayley have a crush on Taj? He was charismatic and ruggedly handsome. A little wild, but that was part of the attraction. An excellent horseman. Self-assured, good with his hands, enigmatic. Some women might be attracted to that.
‘Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking before.’
It was the journalist, a tall woman with a stylish black bob and intense green eyes.
‘Adelaide Fisher from the Wingham Gazette. I’m the environment reporter You can call me Del.’ She shook Kim’s hand. ‘I’m also the rural, fashion, arts and entertainment reporter. Oh, and the literary editor, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m interested in your rewilding venture. If there are fashions in conservation, rewilding is certainly the big one at the moment. It’s fascinating to think we have a local project happening.’ She gave Kim her card. ‘You own the run next to Ben’s place right, Journey’s End?’
‘Yes, but —’
‘Would love to visit sometime.’ The truck fired up, and began its precarious journey across the rough paddock to Bangalow Road. ‘Got to go,’ said Del. ‘Don’t want to miss the unloading. I’m making a documentary about this lot, following their lives through from bush brumby to riding horse.’ She flashed Kim a brilliant smile. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ And with that, she hurried off after her cameraman.
‘Are our brumbies going to be movie stars?’ asked Abbey.
‘Looks that way, sweetie. Now, we’d better get home. Hush will be ready for a feed.’ Abbey spun round and around until her legs went wobbly. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Making myself dizzy with happiness. I love living here, don’t you? Don’t you love it, Mum?’
Kim looked around at the golden summer afternoon, at the fern-fringed billabong and the darting blue kingfishers. She could smell the peppermint gums on the breeze, hear the squeals of children as they swung over the water on overhanging branches then let go with a splash.
‘Kim.’ It was Shirley. ‘Come and have a cuppa.’
Kim smiled. Maybe she could stay a bit longer after all. Shirley poured her a mug of coffee from a thermos. Pat found her a chair. Somebody passed her a Tim-Tam. Life was simpler here than in Sydney, each day a lesson in mindfulness. And the catastrophe of losing Connor did not loom so large. Nobody walked on eggshells around her or cast pitying glances. In Tingo you were accepted for who you were – right here, right now. It didn’t matter what had happened before. She could see why Taj was so drawn to this place. Perfect for Jake, and for her too.
‘Yes,’ she said, giving Abbey a hug long after the girl had forgotten her question. ‘I do love it here.’
CHAPTER 21
The first day of autumn. Taj slowed the quad bike as it reached the crest of the ridge, expertly negotiating a winding animal track up to the lookout point. All too aware of the press of Kim’s slim arms round his waist and the sandalwood fragrance of her hair. The bike hummed to a halt and the weight of her arms fell away.
‘Come.’ He beckoned her to follow him, scrambling up between clustered rocks and onto a stone ledge.
Kim took in the view with shining eyes, her wind-whipped hair framing her face.
When she went closer to the cliff edge, his muscles tensed involuntarily. Taj moved to stand beside her. He could feel a vibration where their arms touched, the slightest shiver of skin. The narrow stone table offered a spectacular view across the range, which was in turn blanketed by forest and scarred by jagged bluffs. A pair of eagles wheeled across the sky, riding the updrafts, and the sun sailed overhead, high as heaven. This was his favourite vantage point to look out over Tarringtops. With a little stretch of the imagination, he could be gazing at a mountain pass in the Hindu Kush.
‘All these years and I’ve never been to this spot,’ Kim breathed. ‘It’s by far the best place to see the waterfall.’ Across the valley, Devil Falls plunged two hundred metres down Echo Gorge, a silver ribbon breaking in a rainbow of spray on the rocks below. The special clarity of early autumn light made the cascading water seem almost close enough to touch. ‘It’s the loveliest thing I’ve seen.’
Taj nodded. Lovely, yes, but with a dark past. It was rumoured that during colonial times, local Biripi people had been dispossessed of their land and thrown to their deaths from the top of the falls. Beauty and violence went hand in hand here just as they did in his native Afghanistan.
‘See to the left of that line of trees?’ He moved behind her, closer now, pointing down the valley. ‘That’s where our last planting is.’
‘Or was,’ said Kim, with a rueful smile.
Removing the brumbies had succeeded in stabilising the creek banks, but it hadn’t solved their main problem. As fast as they could plant the trees out, they were nibbled down by browsing animals. Wallabies, deer, goats, even rabbits took their share. Heartbreaking. Plastic tree guards proved too flimsy, and fencing such large areas wasn’t practical. Taj went spotlighting most nights, much to the delight of the locals. He’d supplied them with enough venison to last for months. But as fast as he eradicated one pest, another took its place. He was only one man, and targeting ferals didn’t dent the wallaby and kangaroo population.
‘Look.’ Taj pointed to a troop of goats with half-grown kids, emerging from a gully. They spread out across the replanted paddock to graze.
‘Cheeky buggers,’ said Kim. ‘We’d better get down there before they clean up what’s left.’ Her shoulders sagged. ‘I feel like when we plant out we’re just sacrificing the poor seedlings to an army of chompers.’
A strong gust of wind caused her to step back, pressing against him. Taj steadied her with a hand to her waist, and a spark passed through him. Surely she could feel it too? He guided her back down the rock scramble, reluctant to let her go. Wanting to take her hand. ‘I have an idea,’ he said. ‘But first, I must show you something.’
Kim stood with a hand clamped to her mouth, staring at the ravaged plants on a slide of lichen-covered rocks above the rapids on Cedar Creek. ‘The orchids. The ravine orchids you were going to show me . . . was this them?’
‘Yes.’ His eyes brimmed with sadness. ‘I’m sorry.’ The orchids once grew here in a glorious profusion, forming broad mats across the moist rock face, many metres wide. Now the ancient clumps had been reduced to a few clusters of fleshy grey-green roots. They clung precariously to high stone fissures above the turbulent water.
‘What happened?’
‘I thought the cliffs would protect them. But I hadn’t counted on sure-footed goats.’
He had wanted to give her this view of the orchids, the beauty of them tumbling down the rocks, an image she could see over and over against her eyelids as she fell asleep. Why hadn’t he brought her here sooner? All this while he imagined them safe and beautiful, and now . . . It broke his heart to see her disappointment.
‘We have to do something.’ She choked back a sob. ‘Tell me your idea?’
CHAPTER 22
Kim sat on the verandah of Wolf Hall. For the second time that day she was left open-mouthed. ‘Dingoes? Your plan is dingoes?’
‘Hear me out. Do you know what a trophic cascade is?’
A trivia night question that she couldn’t remember the answer to.
He ran his fingers through his hair and tried again. ‘Have you heard of the wolves of Yellowstone?’
‘No.’ He wasn’t making any sense. ‘What have wolves got to do with anything?’
Taj laced his fingers together. She’d never seen him so tense. ‘In the 1930s,’ he said, ‘wolves were wiped out from Yellowstone National Park.’
‘That’s sad, but how is it
relevant?’
He held up his hand. ‘Elk and deer populations exploded. They ate the grasslands down to nothing, ringbarked trees, killed the young cottonwood and aspens . . .’
‘Go on.’
His voice, low and lilting, took on the rhythm of a tale-teller. ‘It wasn’t just the forest that suffered. Elk trampled the river banks. Without wolves, coyotes thrived, decimating small mammals and birds, in turn depriving owls and eagles of their prey. With food trees stripped bare, and no chance to steal kills, the bears starved. Beavers vanished, along with the river willows.’
Kim sat forward in her chair.
‘Then, after more than seventy years, they brought the wolves back. Just thirty-one of them, in a park of nine thousand square kilometres. Within months, elk deserted the valleys and streams where wolves could easily ambush them, which allowed the trees to regenerate. Coyote numbers plummeted, and as the forests staged a comeback, so did the birds and little mammals, the beavers and their dams. Rivers flowed more slowly, recharging water tables, creating wetlands for moose and otters.’ Kim’s scalp prickled. ‘Wolves restored Yellowstone. They brought the ecosystem back to balance.’ Taj paused. ‘And dingoes can do the same here if you give them half a chance.’
For the longest time she sat there. Not moving, not speaking, barely blinking, her mind awhirl with new concepts and ideas. Everything he said made perfect sense.
Taj must have mistaken her silence for misgiving, for he redoubled his efforts to convince her. ‘Imagine a creek flowing through the forest – then it comes to a cliff, like at Devil Falls. It drops over the edge of the cascade, hits a rock and splits. Then each of those streams hits another rock and splits again. The single stream at the top scatters into many. An apex predator is like that creek. Its influence splinters out over the entire ecosystem. That’s a trophic cascade. It starts at the top of the food chain and tumbles all the way down.’
‘I get it,’ she said. ‘It’s brilliant. Is there any evidence it will work with dingoes?’
Taj leaped to his feet. A breeze stirred the overhanging tamarind tree, and lifted the lock of hair from his eyes. ‘Yes, absolutely.’ He paced about, unable to keep still. ‘I worked as a boundary rider on the dingo fence, based at Katunga Bore north of Broken Hill. Mungo Station was on the southern side, the dog-free side. Boonda Station lay to the north. The manager there had a soft spot for dingoes, left them alone. I saw what happened on both sides of the dog fence.’
‘And?’
‘Dingoes were common at Boonda, and I often came across their kills. Sometimes a calf or wild goat. But ninety per cent of the time they hunted kangaroos. I never shot a single fox there, and only saw one cat. But small native animals were thriving. Dunnarts and hopping mice. Echidnas and jacky dragons. Lots of birds. The dingoes didn’t bother with small fry when large prey was plentiful.’
‘And on the southern side, on Mungo?’
‘No dingoes, not a lot of birds, but tons of goats and kangaroos. The bush was grazed bare. Cats and foxes everywhere. I shot a dozen a night. And little animals were missing, even the lizards.’
‘Dingoes eat cats and foxes?’
Taj nodded. ‘Even the scent of their scat keeps ferals away.’ He sat back down. ‘Bring back dingoes and the rainforest will practically restore itself.’
Kim turned the idea over and over in her mind. This plan went way beyond anything she’d dreamed of. Bringing back a top-order predator – that was real rewilding. Taj was pacing again.
‘It’s an amazing idea, Taj. Original. Ground-breaking.’ She thought back to the conversation with Hayley on the day they caught the brumbies, and gave him a shrewd, side-ways glance. ‘You’ve been planning to spring this on me for a while, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’ His honesty was disarming. Taj plucked a leaf from the tamarind tree, rolling it between his fingers. A pulse started in his cheek. ‘You must be sure,’ he said. ‘It won’t be easy. Many people will be against this.’
‘When it comes to protecting rainforest, I’m tougher than you think. One question – where would we get dingoes?’
He dared to take her hand. ‘Come with me.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
Six dingoes paraded up and down the cyclone-wire fence in a pen above the house. Wagging their tails and yodelling a greeting. Their cries swelled and built into a synchronised chorus of howling. So that’s what she’d heard that first day when she met Taj. A wild, eerie sound. No wonder she’d been a little frightened.
The dingoes were medium-sized and muscular, with short coats, erect ears and broad, angular heads. Two half-grown pups looked very much like Dusty, except for their sandy colour and the white tips at the end of their bushy tails.
A big male jumped up at the fence near to where she was standing. She shrank back. ‘I’ve never seen a dingo, let alone been up close to one. Aren’t they supposed to be dangerous?’
‘You’re ten times more likely to be bitten by a domestic dog than by one of my friends here.’ Taj stroked the animal’s nose through the wire. ‘And you are mistaken about not having met a dingo before. One lives in your home. Dusty is a dingo.’
Kim gave him a sharp, disbelieving look. ‘That can’t be. Mel says he’s a kelpie.’
‘Then Mel is wrong.’ He pointed to the pups. ‘These are Dusty’s sisters. I found them in a den on Tarringtops with their dead mother curled around them. She’d taken a bait.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Would you have wanted Dusty if I did?’
‘If you remember, I never wanted Dusty in the first place. But thanks to you, I got him anyway.’
Taj frowned. ‘Does the pup displease you in some way?’
Did he displease her? Hardly. Dusty was a gem: funny, affectionate, heart-tuggingly beautiful and loyal to a fault. Utterly adorable. And since she’d enlisted Mel’s help with training, obedient as well. He was more independent than usual, apparently. A bit of a deep thinker, but he learned quickly and was easy to teach.
‘No, I’m completely in love with him – we all are. I can’t imagine life without him. But I take your point. I may have unfairly judged him if I knew he was dingo.’
Taj’s face relaxed from its frown. ‘We need to give these guys a public opinion makeover, but there’ll be a lot of prejudice to overcome at first.’
Kim couldn’t help thinking that he was talking about more than the dingoes. ‘Don’t you need some kind of a permit?’ Probably a silly question. Taj wasn’t the type to bother with red tape.
‘Not in New South Wales.’ Taj squared his shoulders, looking implacably determined, but vulnerable at the same time. An oddly appealing combination.
This project clearly meant the world to him, and his passion was contagious. She was keenly aware of the strength and warmth of his body beside her. He turned to speak to the dingoes and the dappled sunlight caught his face in profile. The stubborn set of his jaw. The shadow of his stubble. The jagged scar that ran down his cheek. Not for the first time, she wondered how that scar got there.
Taj opened the gate, and the dingoes streamed out.
‘Jesus.’ Kim pressed back against the fence. ‘You could have warned me.’
‘They’re perfectly friendly, as friendly as Dusty. Even a little shy.’
Slowly Kim relaxed, exhaled, found her confidence. The dingoes dashed about, bushy tails waving. Their coats gleamed with good health and their almond-shaped eyes shone with intelligence. They greeted Taj with high-pitched yelps, were filled with joie de vivre. Soon she was laughing and romping along with them. It was impossible not to be won over – they were simply magnificent.
The smallest dingo sidled up to her and she bent to stroke it. ‘So you’re Dusty’s sister. Pleased to meet you.’ The pup licked her hand, showing a flash of bright white teeth. ‘I can see the family resemblance.’ She glanced at Taj with sudden concern. ‘You don’t mean Dusty too, do you? You don’t want to send him off into the wild?’
‘Dusty doesn’t belong to this pack. He belongs to yours. Dingoes bond more powerfully than domestic dogs. His love and loyalty will always be for you and your family. He’ll never be happy anywhere else.’ It was silly, but Kim felt flattered, honoured even. Though Dusty had no monopoly on love and loyalty. That worked both ways. She was as committed to him as he was to her.
Kim offered Taj a slow uncertain smile. Their eyes locked and something passed between them – an acknowledgement that this was an alliance, that together they could accomplish something important, ‘Well, we’ve got our dingoes,’ she said. ‘So what happens now?’
Taj’s face split into a winning grin, dazzling against his olive skin. ‘I haven’t got that far.’
CHAPTER 23
Kim cut herself another piece of chocolate mud cake. Mel had brought it over as a bribe. ‘These babies won’t be any trouble,’ Mel mumbled, her own mouth full of cake. ‘They’re off milk feeds and eating meat now.’
Kim looked dubiously at the four little tiger quolls climbing the kitchen curtain. They looked a bit like mongooses, except for the large white spots extending right to the end of their tapering tails. Another quoll explored the bread bin. ‘Why can’t you keep them?’
‘I need their cage for the sugar gliders,’ said Mel. ‘Your old chook pen’s free now, isn’t it?’
‘Only because Abbey’s brought the three possums into the house.’
‘Don’t let her do that with these quolls,’ said Mel. ‘They need a hands-off approach. I’m trying to keep them as wild as possible to prepare them for release.’
‘Does that mean they bite?’
‘No. Well, hardly ever. They domesticate quite easily, so it’s important not to encourage tame behaviour.’ The bread bin quoll came to sit on Kim’s knee. She gingerly stroked the baby’s ginger fur, and it sniffed her chin with its twitching, pink nose. ‘Which can be very difficult,’ said Mel, ‘when they’re so cute.’
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