Boobook Boobook before dawn

My hurrying hoofs in the night go by,

And the great flocks bleat their fear

And follow the curve of the creeks burnt dry

And the plains scorched brown and sere.

They have carried their outposts far, far out,

But – blade of my sword for a sign! – I am the Master,

the King Drought, And the great West Land is mine!

William Henry Ogilvie, Drought.

The rusted barbed wire fence was all that stood in our way. Nothing is going to stop me from saving Wilbur and Winkie. I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out my fencing pliers, cutting it into small pieces. I am always prepared for jobs like this, having lived all my life on my family’s two-thousand-hectare property, Kilmarnyle, an hour’s drive west of a town called Tullamore in central western NSW. The land out here is burnt and singed by the sun and when you walk on the stunted grass, it crackles, snaps and pops! Every day after school I help my dad bury the mounting numbers of rotting dead cattle and sheep. Living in Tullamore in our worst ever drought is like waking-up to a nightmare every day.

‘Come on Wilbur and Winkie,’ I whisper into their ears. ‘We are almost there.’ My pet cows look up, stop chewing their cud and follow me as I disappear into a fortress of Prickly-leaved Paperbark and Mulga trees. At last we have arrived at my secret dam. Mum and Dad can’t sell my cows now, not even for water. My cows are more than pets to me, they are my best friends. They are not going to end up as pet food.

I pick up a pebble and throw it across the water and watched it as it skims across its surface. Plop, Plop, Plop! The water swirls and churns into a thick sludge stew.

‘GRRRR… GRRRR….’. I want to hide, but my feet will not move. A strange creature as large as an elephant, with a dog’s head and crimson blood dripping from its fangs, jumps out of the slush and lands in front of me. ‘Yummmmm. You look so delicious. I haven’t eaten in a long time,’ rumbles the Bunyip sliding its purple tongue over its lips. Its stomach booms like an orchestra. ‘Tell me your name before I make a meal of you.’

‘It’s Taylor and please don’t eat me!’ I shout. I keep my eyes glued to his, forcing him to look away first. To my surprise a green tear drop slides from his eyes and splashes onto the ground, disappearing in less than a second into the dry terrain.

‘Why are you here? Why don’t you run away?’ The Bunyip shoots questions at me. I brush away strands of hair that blow into my face by the force of his onion smelling breath. I know I should be frightened, his exposed ribs prove he is suffering and starving. Instead, I stand my ground and continue to match his stare. ‘I am losing my home,’ the Bunyip sighs in defeat. His webbed paws point at my dam. ‘There is hardly any water left and I have to walk miles to eat kangaroos and snakes. Nothing lives here now’. The Bunyip was right. The water lilies that used to cover the dam’s surface with purple and yellow flowers are now replaced with green algae and baked mud. ‘Taylor let’s make a deal.’

‘I’m willing to listen,’ I reply. I was buying time, he knows it, I know it.

‘By the time the sun comes up you have to find a way to bring back clean, clear water,’ the Bunyip warns. ‘This morning at one o’clock, two o’clock and four o’clock you will be visited by three bush spirits’. He tells me I will get a visit from The Ghost of the Outback Past, The Ghost of the Outback Present and The Ghost of Outback Yet to Come. ‘You will be alerted of their arrival with two hoots from a Boobook Owl,’ the Bunyip says. ‘Make sure you find a way’. He turns around and starts walking back into the dam. Before he disappears he adds, ‘I’m hungry!’

I wait.

‘Boo book…boo book!’ It is one o’clock.

A Drop Bear jumps into my campfire, stomping its feet over the burning embers. Darkness wraps around me.

‘I am The Ghost of the Outback Past, time to see Terra Nullius,’ the Drop Bear roars. It picks me up in its large paws and throws me onto its back. I can smell the aroma of Eucalyptus oil mixed with the stench of burnt fur. Before I can take another breath, he crouches low and leaps twenty metres up into the air landing on the highest branch of a Eucalyptus tree. The Drop Bear does not flinch as my fingernails dig into its neck as we dive into the dam. The water swallows us beneath its surface.

‘Uncover your eyes,’ the Drop Bear snarls. ‘Terra Nullius.’

I am alive! I have not drowned! I look up and see dark rain clouds approaching from the west, I can see sunlight bouncing off rivers, darting here and there. Kangaroos are grazing peacefully and Daisies and Bottlebrushes sway slowly as the wind swishes over their petals.

‘Where are we?’ I ask.

‘This is your family’s property two hundred years ago,’ snorts the Drop Bear. It is hard to believe this was Kilmarnyle. To the left of me I see twenty Bilbies dashing into their burrows, startled by our arrival. The last time I saw a Bilby was at Easter and it was the chocolate kind. I twirl around to the right when I hear a mob of Emus sprinting through Curly Windmill-grass. They come to rest at a bubbling creek, guzzling the crystal water under the shade of the wattle trees.

‘I wish this was my home,’ I say and smile at the Drop Bear ignoring his furrowed frown.

‘Remember this vision. Notice how everything is in balance,’ the Drop Bear grimaces. Before I can take a second glance, the ghost jumps back up into the tree with me still on its back. He shakes his body from side to side and I land on top of my sleeping bag showered with slush.

I wait.

‘Boo book…boo book!’ It is two o’clock in the morning.

‘I am The Ghost of the Outback Present.’

There stands a two-metre-tall apelike creature, covered in grey matted hair. Its feet are so big they will not even fit into size twenty shoes and its tennis ball eyes are fanned by long black lashes.

‘Come with me,’ the Yowie purrs. I climb onto its back. Once again I hold on tightly as it scales the nearest Eucalyptus tree and jumps off the highest branch and dives into the dam. ‘Open your eyes! This is your here and now,’ the Yowie sings. I look around and see a red dust storm rolling in over the landscape. I notice hundreds of cattle and sheep huddled in a paddock trying to escape the blasting rays of sunlight. There are no clouds in the sky. ‘Look,’ the ghost points. I turn around and see my father, his mouth quivering as he lifts his rifle to kill another starving cow. I cannot watch. The Yowie wraps its arms around me and jumps back up the Eucalyptus tree.

I long to return to the Kangaroos, Emus and Bilbies.

‘Boo book…. boo book!’ I am back at my campsite and it is now four o’clock in the morning.

‘Come to the water’s edge,’ a voice commands. There in the water is the biggest Murray Cod I have ever seen.

‘I am The Ghost of the Outback Yet To Come. You know the drill.’

I climb onto its back, clutching onto its fin as we leap over the Eucalyptus tree and dive deep into the dam.

‘This could be your future. Look closely it may save your life,’ the ghost grunts and bubbles.

There in front of me is my family’s property. There is a hydroponic greenhouse next to our homestead growing lush grass to feed our cows. I can hear the soft humming of pumps extracting water from underground bores and in the distance I can see wetlands carved with flowing creeks and rivers.

‘How can I make this happen?’ I plead.

‘You have been given the answer. It’s now up to you.’ The ghost dives back into the dam and throws me off its back.

***

I watch as the sun slowly rises in the east. The dam begins to shake and stir. The Bunyip’s head pops out of the water and within minutes he stands opposite me. A Boobook owl flies between our faces, its fluttering wings shattering the silence between us. We watch it as it settles into a hollow of a Eucalyptus tree.

‘Are you my next meal?’ The Bunyip slobbers, saliva dripping from his mouth.

‘No!’ I reply defiantly. I look to the west and notice black clouds brewing. Wilbur and Winkie trot over to my side. ‘I need to go home, Mr Bunyip. Eating me now will only satisfy you for one day. I can make sure you are never hungry again.’

‘I will trust you will not disappoint me, Miss Taylor. I will remain on the lookout,’ the Bunyip says as he rakes his claws across my body before turning to sink beneath the green algae covering the dam. ‘Don’t make me wait too long.’

I look up and saw Drop Bear, Yowie and Murray Cod watching me from the highest branch of the Eucalyptus tree.

‘Time to go home Wilbur and Winkie.’ A rain drop splashes onto my forehead and slides down my cheek. Within ten minutes my face and clothes are drenched. No more running away, I have work to do.