Music for Tigers by Michelle Kadarusman

Author:Michelle Kadarusman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pajama Press Inc.
Published: 2020-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

13

Tiger Whisperer

As I follow Uncle Ruff out of the cabin, Colin is walking up from the river. He cradles bunches of glossy, lime-colored leaves in his arms.

“What have you got there?” I ask.

“River mint,” he answers, holding a bunch to my nose. It smells fresh and pepperminty. “I found some native pepperberry as well,” he goes on, pointing to his knapsack. “They are excellent to use fresh. Or you can dry the berries and grind them up.”

Ruff lifts his chin. “Put that stuff inside, mate, and come with us,” he says.

Colin drops his knapsack and the herbs on the cabin steps and rejoins us.

“Where are we going?” he asks. I shrug because I’m truly not sure where we’re going either.

We follow Uncle Ruff along the riverbank in the opposite direction from where Colin went foraging. We skirt the rear of my cabin and continue along the river for twenty minutes or so until we reach a stretch of sandy shore. The bush behind the shore is dense. It appears the only way to reach this point on the river is from the camp. The shoreline is interrupted by an outcrop of large rocks jutting into the water. To continue walking would mean a vertical climb, twenty feet up and over the rock face, or wading into the deep river.

Uncle Ruff stops walking and looks out over the water toward Convict Rock. “This is where the tigers usually cross,” he says matter-of-factly, and my heart starts to pound at what I’m hearing. “Used to anyway,” he says. “Now I can’t be 100 percent sure. For a long time, I’ve only seen single prints. Small, so likely a female. Then nothing at all for a while now. If she is still here, she is alone.”

I am speechless.

“Mum told me,” says Colin. “She said that you haven’t had a sighting in a long time.”

Uncle Ruff nods. “It has been a long time. Maybe over a year. My guess is that she was injured so the pack left her behind.”

“There was a pack?” I ask.

“There was. About two years ago they took off, deeper into the bush. I was happy at the time because I knew about the proposed mining road and what will happen to Convict Rock. It was like the pack knew too, although of course they couldn’t have.” He looks thoughtful. “Besides, it’s happened many times before—the tigers from the Rock going deeper into the Tarkine for better hunting or to find mates. At some point a pair would come back to the Rock and the cycle would start over.” He pauses. “But Ellie has no hope if she’s alone.”

“Ellie?” I ask.

“That’s what I call her. Short for Eleanor. The one and only.” He points behind us into the bush. “I built a trap months ago,” he says. “But she’s too smart for me.”

I peer at where he’s pointing. All I can see are the densely curled fronds of ground ferns, but on closer inspection I notice the outline of a wire cage.

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