So I'm in Bundaberg.

Must be that feeling of my mum's menthols on my lungs again.

Or the boredom.

Or the heat.

Or the feeling that all of sudden it doesn't matter what colour headband I wear.

Or does iot, cause I'm not sure if the bush turkeys we feed every night or the Kangaroo who sleeps inside particularly give a shit.

I'm not sure that Geoff does either. He lives in a caravan on the edge of my parents property. He has an outside bathroom, including a toilet with no doors. Next to his van is a massive field of Pineapples, which I am told is riddled with snakes. Last time we went to the caravan a family of three Kangaroos stood and watched us as we giggled at the deshiveled state of his living conditions.

Last night it took me ages to work out that the minty smell coming into the lounge room was just the smell of the state forest next the house. I couldn't tell whether the scent dissappears at night or whether I'm already accustomed to Waterloo. Every night you can also hear the screams of the storm birds. Its fucking ferocious, like an angry tranny warning the other trannies to get off her stage. Dad told me the fly in around this time of year from Papua New Guinea and then fly back at the end of summer. I bet they see some shit, hey. But in any event, they are probably escaping their drug problems up north and fly down to dry out before getting stuck into yet another party season. Migration in both human and bird terms can be at times very hard to get your head around.

Dad told me today that he saw a wild dog crossing the road. He said it was a monster. As big as an alsation.

"If it attacked you, you'd b fucked" he said. "That's why whenever I go for bush walks now I always carry a gun,".

Yeah and that the fact that your suicidal half the time Dad.

Apparently some women told him the other day that she saw a pack of them crossing the road. They've been killing sheep and chooks by the dozen. I've heard stories of wild dogs killing "for fun", they kill a heap of farm animals and only eat some of them. It's the same with wild cats, sometimes they kill just because they want to. No wonder humans get along well with cats and dogs, we have so much in common.

No doubt the wild dogs have teared through their fear-share of wallabies and small roos and anything else that gets in their way. Ever since I heard the story of the woman who found an echidna that had been disembowelled by a feral cat I've had nightmares about native wildlife being killed by human-introduced pests. Its usually cats killing possums or small rodents. The last nightmare I had was a week ago, it was a Koala on the ground being ripped apart by a dog.

Dad says his going to go out later on his bike and look for the dogs. He thinks poisoning them is cruel, but shooting them is ok. I asked him if he had a second gun and he said yes. I might go with him later and whip some feral dog arse. An environmentalists with a gun? Maybe! Or perhaps we all need an excuse to kill things sometimes.