“
Steve and I watched the dingo family play out its drama for a long time. Then we edged our way down to the dam and hopped in. The water was cold, but it felt good.
“This is great,” I said, as we swam together.
“I’ve been coming here since I was just a little tacker,” Steve said. Bob had brought his young son with him on his research trips, studying the snakes of the region.
As I walked in and out of the water, washing up, shampooing my hair, and relishing the chance to clean off some of the desert dust, I noticed something hard underfoot.
“Steve, I stepped on something here,” I said.
He immediately started clearing the bottom of the pond, tugging on what I had felt beneath the murky water.
“Tree limb,” I guessed.
“Look around,” Steve said, yanking at the mired object. “No trees here at all.”
He couldn’t budge whatever it was, but he didn’t give up. He went back to camp, drove to the dam in his Ute, and tied a chain to the obstacle. As he backed up the truck, the chain tightened. Slowly a cow’s pelvis emerged from the muck.
I watched with horror as Steve dislodged an entire cow carcass that had been decomposing right where I had been enjoying my refreshing dip. I must have been poking among its rib cage while I brushed my teeth and washed my hair.
Steve dragged the carcass a good distance off.
“Do you think we should tell the crew?” he asked me when he came back.
“Maybe what they don’t know won’t hurt them,” I said.
Steve nodded. “They probably won’t brush their teeth in there, anyway.”
“Probably not,” I said, pondering the possibility of future romantic dips with Steve, and what might lurk under the water at the next dam.
When we returned to camp, Steve insisted I sit down and not lift a finger while he cooked me a real Aussie breakfast: bacon and sausage with eggs, and toast with Vegemite. This last treat was a paste-like spread that’s an Australian tradition. For an Oregon girl, it was a hard sell. I always thought Vegemite tasted like a salty B vitamin. I chowed down, though, determined to learn to love it.
As the sun rose in full, Steve began to get bored. He was antsy. He wanted to go wrangle something, discover something, film anything. Finally, at midmorning, the crew showed up.
“Let’s go,” Steve said. “There’s an eagle’s nest my dad showed me when I was just a billy lid. I want to see if it might still be there.”
Right, I thought, a nest you saw with Bob years ago. What are the chances we’re going to find that?
John looked longingly at the dam. “Thought we might have a tub first,” he said. The grime of the desert covered all of them.
“Oh, I think we should go,” I said hastily, the cow carcass fresh in my mind. “You don’t need a bath, do you, guys?”
“Come on,” Steve urged. “Wedge-tailed eagles!”
No rest for the weary.
”
”