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.’