When the Singing Stops (38 page)

‘It's safe to come in now,' called Kate. Madi and Connor gingerly edged into the creek while a gaggle of local children came plunging out of the shrubbery, squealing with delight, to dive into the water. Joseph squatted on the bank, puffing a cigarette, amused by all the activity. The children swam around with the otters who dived and leapt and swam underwater, continually returning to Kate as she called them by name.

‘This is Madison and Connor, they are guests and friends, be nice to them,' admonished Kate. Madi was suddenly confronted by a face surfacing in front of her, alert eyes, dripping whiskers and a barking mouthful of teeth. As she stood waist deep, her knees were hit by a powerful rocketing furry body and she lost her balance, falling under the brown water that churned with the energy and activity.

Gradually they joined in the play as they were accepted, but the giant otters only allowed Kate the game where they would leap in her arms and dive over her shoulders.

Madi and Connor joined Joseph on the
bank as Amelia produced a bucket of fish. Kate waded out to get the bucket and the brood waddled from the water to receive, one by one, a large fish from their mistress. ‘They have a pecking order, and once they have come to the table showing their manners, then it's a free for all,' laughed Kate, tossing the rest of the fish into the creek where all the otters raced for them.

‘They're amazing,' declared Connor. ‘I had no idea they got so big. What will happen to them?'

‘This is their home, they're free to go any time. But why should they? They have a good life here. It was an experiment and it seems to have worked quite well. The younger ones could not defend themselves alone in the wild, I suspect. Sometimes the wild creatures go back and join their friends, other times they entice their friends to join them. I hope to do this with other creatures.'

‘She's got others,' warned Joseph.

‘They're only babies, Joseph. Now, let us go back and change for drinks before dinner.'

Amelia served cold beers and rum punch and Connor presented a delighted Kate with several bottles of wine they'd brought from Georgetown. ‘Oh, such a treat. Thank you. Now it's drinks all round for everyone.' And she produced a box and lifted from it what Madi thought at first were tiny ring-tailed possums.

‘They're coatimundis,' said Joseph.

The size of kittens, they were a brindle brown, their long tails banded in black and dark brown coiled around Kate's arm. She lifted one and handed it to Madi. ‘What a dear little face,' exclaimed Madi as the baby nuzzled its long pointed snout with a rubbery nose into her neck. It squeaked and mewed until a doll-sized feeding bottle of milk mixture was produced and it sucked contentedly in Madi's arms.

It was only later when the sleeping coati was returned to its box that Madi discovered the warmth on her chest where it had nestled also came from a large pee stain.

They showered again and dressed for dinner, which was heralded by a call from Amelia and launched by Kate ringing a small dinner bell beside her plate. Amelia, accompanied by a shy barefoot daughter, shuffled in and set the baked dinner on the table. Kate served and passed the assorted plates, some plain glass, others fine bone china, with a poise and graciousness as much suited to a stately home in England as this thatch and mud brick home in the lonely vastness of the South American savannahs.

Kate proposed a toast. ‘Welcome to the Rupununi, my paradise. Thank you for sharing it. I hope you carry away pleasant memories.'

As the meal progressed, with Amelia being summoned by the bell twice to remedy a lacking implement and condiment, Kate talked of her childhood in this place. She told them of the
great snake that lived in her parents' bedroom and each night had to be shooed from beneath the covers of their bed before they retired, and of the numerous adventurers who passed through.

‘Tell them the diamond bird story,' suggested Joseph.

Kate chuckled. ‘Ah, that was my grandfather. He was a prospector and a diamond buyer. He had a pet toucan and a visitor arrived to find him sitting at the kitchen table with his pet toucan chained to the table. You know those magnificently coloured birds with the huge beak, I think it was the red-billed variety. Anyway, it was his pet and used to roam free around the house, but on this day it had swallowed a parcel of diamonds he'd just bought. So he fed it castor oil and was sitting there with forceps, a dish of water and a diamond scale, waiting for nature to take its course so he could retrieve his diamonds!'

Amid the laughter, Kate shook her head. ‘Ah, such dreams and schemes he had. I remember my grandfather every time I recite one of my favourite lines of poetry . . . from Thomas Hardy:
“He does not die who does bequeath some influence to the land he loves”.'

‘And you, Kate, what are your dreams for Caraboo? Did you see yourself settling here when you were living the high life in London all those years?' asked Madi.

‘In my heart I always knew this was my home.
I've been back here seventeen years. I haven't been back to the UK for nearly nine years.'

‘Don't you miss the culture, theatre and concerts?'

‘I have my father's gramophone, my grandfather's books—sans spines—and I listen to the BBC world service on my radio.'

The dinner plates were cleared away and a bowl of sliced mangoes, melons and bananas smothered in custard served for dessert.

‘Have you thought of having paying guests here? You're certainly set up for it,' said Connor. He sensed finances must be difficult for this proud woman.

‘I intended to do that. But my timing was wrong. I worked out an itinerary for people to come for long weekends. The bank manager asked, why wouldn't I have people here all the time? And I said, what an appalling idea! I like my own time and space, too.' She gave a throaty laugh. ‘I did not get the loan I asked for and I was sent packing with the words, you go into business to make money, not to enjoy yourself.'

‘Sounds just like a bank manager,' said Madi with a glance at Connor, who responded with an exaggerated mock smile.

‘It was also the time of Forbes Burnham's era. A political disaster. Thanks to the bank I discovered Burnham was serious when he said he didn't want tourism turning the country into a nation of lackeys. At least the place has been preserved.'

‘Now is the time, perhaps,' said Madi, glancing again at Connor.

Kate rang the bell for Amelia to bring the coffee. Then she unfolded her long lean frame, stood, and smiled at them. ‘We shall see what the fates have decreed. I don't drink coffee at night, so I'll leave you to enjoy it, together. Tomorrow, I shall show you my country. Goodnight. Sleep well.'

Later, snuggled under the cloud of mosquito netting, Madi talked to Connor about Kate and Caraboo. ‘Connor, this is what everyone should see, share this sort of experience . . .'

‘She's got more stuff planned tomorrow . . .' sleepily he began kissing and nuzzling Madi.

‘But don't you think this could be made into a proper tourism project . . .'

‘Madi . . . stop talking, and just kiss me. I'm on holidays.'

‘Exactly!' She nudged him in the ribs. ‘And look where you are! This should be available to everyone. Think how it would help Kate, help the local people, start a small industry that could grow and—' He stopped her words with a kiss. Madi's mind was buzzing, but then she began to switch her attention to Connor, responding to his lovemaking . . . and putting other thoughts on hold . . . temporarily.

T
he next morning Madi sat on the little verandah outside their bungalow eating a mango and Connor swung in the hammock, both enjoying the mild temperature and low humidity before breakfast. The day would hot up soon enough and they could expect a tiring day out in the savannah, for Kate had hinted that she had an interesting program of activity lined up. They already realised that keeping pace with Kate would require effort.

Connor was still tired. ‘This is so relaxing. I just love being with you. Why don't we put it off and just hang about and . . .'

He didn't get to finish the sentence. As Madi tossed the mango seed into the bushes she spoke over him. ‘That's for evenings, Connor,' she said
with a cheeky grin. ‘We're going to make the most of every minute of the daylight seeing the wonders of this neck of the woods. I rather think you're very much out of condition.'

‘Exactly the point I was trying to make. I'm sex starved. Need the exercise.'

‘Rubbish. Come on, shower time. That's about as good as you'll get at this hour. I've just got to get this sticky mango stuff off my hands.'

He followed her into the bathroom and leaned against the door as she washed her hands. ‘You're really enthusiastic about this part of the country, aren't you? Most people take in a few sights and lapse into a state of cynicism bordering on despair. A tropical boredom sets in. But not you. Everything is wonderful and exciting, and full of tourism potential.'

Madi turned and dried her hands. ‘So?'

Connor shrugged. ‘Well, sure it's a bit of fun, but surely you don't seriously believe that places like this really have the potential to turn over big bickies, or are the stuff this country needs to get on its economic feet, a sort of grass-roots alternative to industrial development.'

Madi thought it was the most absurd bathroom discussion she had ever heard and had trouble keeping a straight face. ‘Connor, we are about to strip and jump in the shower together and you want to raise the question of economic feasibility of tourism. You've lost a shingle.' She pulled off the shirt she wore as a nightdress. ‘I want to say two things. Firstly, it probably will
help this country more than you think. Secondly, get your gear off and into the shower or miss out on the fun.'

After breakfast they boarded a large canoe, called a corial, made from a hollowed-out log with a painted ornamental bow and a wide stern where Dali sat by the outboard motor.

‘He made this one,' explained Kate. ‘Absolutely ideal for a small party exploring the backwaters.' After a short run, Dali cut the motor and using the paddle, propelled them slowly around the bend of a creek into a small lake. The surface was covered in giant green Victoria Regina lilies with burnished undersides to their great, round bowl-shaped leaves, which Kate said could hold an infant. Between the lily pads rose majestic pink flowers. Kate reached out and pulled one up and handed it to Madi. ‘Beautiful,' exclaimed Madi, ‘absolutely beautiful.'

Connor took off his sunglasses to appreciate more fully the colourful magnificence of the scene. ‘You're right. It's like a scene out of a fairy story.'

They paddled on and heard the birds before they saw them, though their nursery had been heralded by occasional swoops of warning adults gliding above them.

‘Oh, just look,' sighed Madi.

The trees that fringed the waterways were
festooned with scores of large twig nests precariously balanced on thin exposed branches. Hundreds of white egrets and grey herons preening feathery tails and wing feathers sat on the nests or flew idly around the area calling to each other. In some nests, babies' beaks jutted out as they cried for food. Kate handed each of them binoculars so that as they drifted they were able to study the birds more closely.

They paddled to another area where they heard woodpeckers hammering at tree trunks while kingfishers darted at the water and the air rang with the call of the aggressive, yellow-breasted kiskadee . . . ‘kis-ka-dee . . . kis-kis-kiss-ka-dee . . .'

Madi suddenly spotted a strange bird and pointed it out to Kate, who studied it through her father's old field glasses.

‘Red-fan parrot, see the red and blue ruff standing up around its head, and the round tail? It's giving out “intruder beware” signals.'

‘The dark bit round the eyes makes it look as if it's wearing sunnies,' chuckled Madi.

‘Every part of Guyana has its own special bird life attractions,' said Kate. ‘In the Pomeroon in the north, the scarlet ibis are magnificent. Thousands of them coming in to roost at sunset completely change the landscape into a rose-toned world. The same when they fly out at sunrise.'

Once they were past the natural bird sanctuary, Dali restarted the motor and they headed out into the river. The marshy, thick mangroves and bush gave way to open grassland on either side.

‘There they are,' said Kate, pointing ahead to a small group waiting with several horses.

‘My gosh, do we have to ride horses?' Madi sounded nervous.

‘Ah, ha! Something to daunt the adventurer at last!'

Madi turned to Connor. ‘Can you ride?'

‘You bet. Spent holidays out on my uncle's sheep farm. And once rode with the hounds in Oxford.'

Kate quickly sized up the situation. ‘If you want, you can be a Land Rover vaquero, Madison. We're only trotting about the savannah to check on the cattle and cull a steer for meat.'

‘Sounds fun,' said Connor enthusiastically.

‘Now you're doing boy's own stuff you're enjoying yourself, eh,' grinned Madi.

He kissed her cheek as Dali steered the corial into the bank. ‘I'm glad I met you. I could have spent this entire job in Georgetown and never got to play cowboys and Indians,' he whispered. ‘You're fun to be with.'

Madi felt she was on horseback even in the front seat of the Land Rover. It bounced and lurched as Dominic, the Amerindian driver,
raced through the grass that brushed the car at window height. Ahead of them and to one side, the four riders galloped—Connor, Kate and two vaqueros. The driver, clearly enjoying the bolt across the country as much as the riders, never stopped grinning as he furiously twisted the steering wheel, letting out occasional loud whoops of delight. He spun the wheel from side to side as the vehicle lurched and slithered through the grass and bucked over hidden obstacles.

The sun was high and hot but it was a dry and not unpleasant heat. The exhilaration of the ride, the sight of the horses streaming away in the distance and the thought of what Connor was experiencing, made Madi's spirits soar. The plains stretched ahead to the hazy line of mountains where great rocky outcrops rose like lunar hills. Then above the grass they saw the horns of steers, then a fence and a thatched shelter. One of the vaqueros signalled to Connor to help him cut out a large steer as Kate and the other rider guided the rest towards the corral.

Racing around the herd, Dominic pulled up the Land Rover beside the corral and indicated to Madi that she should sit on top of the wooden railing. ‘You count.' They were his first words of the day to her.

She shaded her eyes, watching the athletic turns of the horses as they streamlined the cattle into formation. The two riders on the outside—one she recognised as Kate by her red
bandanna—prevented any breaks and finally the lead steer led the herd into the corral. Dominic shuffled the two gates in the pens, separating the calves from the herd.

Madi had to concentrate on the counting and called her numbers to Dominic who rammed the gate shut and nodded. Obviously her figures tallied with his.

Meanwhile out on the savannah, Connor and the vaquero raced after the lone steer, driving it towards a tree which stood with its leafless dead branches akimbo in the waving grass. The vaquero lifted a rifle to his shoulder, a shot rang out, and the running steer dropped into the long grass. The men dismounted and within minutes, the steer was swung by a rope around its back legs into the lower branches of the tree, ready to be butchered and collected later by the Land Rover.

Back at the corral Kate rode up, spoke briefly to Dominic, then turned to Madi.

‘There's a new calf missing. Very new. I saw it. Come, Madi, let's look. Hop on that horse, he'll go softly.'

Madi hesitated, so Kate dismounted, boosted her into the saddle of the vaquero's horse and swiftly shortened the stirrups. She folded the reins neatly and placed them in Madi's hands. ‘Feel his mouth, don't yank or pull or panic. Let him lead you. Relax. Just follow me.'

Madi nodded, her confidence raised by Kate's own confidence in her. She let the horse walk out and sat back in the saddle determined to enjoy this new experience.

Within minutes, Madi's body responded to the gait of the walking horse, she dropped her hands to the saddle, keeping a gentle connection with the animal, her spine beginning to meld to the rhythm as a feeling of elation swept over her.

The view around her looked different, she felt now as though she were part of it all and, as she followed Kate who glanced back and gave her a rewarding smile, Madi experienced a new sense of exhilaration. Had anyone else, even Connor, told her to get on a horse and ride, she would have found reasons to refuse. But Kate instilled a sense of well-being and fun along with an empowering belief—
you can do it.
Instinctively Madi gave a little nudge with her heels and obediently her horse moved up beside Kate.

‘What do you think happened to the calf?'

‘Lost its mother in the long grass. We might be lucky and find it.'

They rode on in silence, Madi enjoying herself enormously, wishing her former colleagues back at the hotel in Sydney could see her now.

The daydream was shattered with frightening suddenness as a great shadow swooped in above her and for a mad moment Madi thought a plane was crashing on them. There had been
no warning of danger except the rush of air and a shout from Kate who kicked her horse and galloped forward. Madi's horse followed suit, plunging forward while Madi gripped the reins for dear life, her knees hugging the saddle, trying to stay put as the horse surged after Kate's.

In front of Kate, a huge bird swooped low, turned and dived and for a moment looked as if it was going to knock Kate from her horse.

The bird was an eagle, its wingspan stretched over two metres and its extended feet showed talons the size of a grizzly bear's. To Madi's amazement Kate rode at full gallop straight at the bird, standing in the stirrups to wave her arms and shout at the eagle. The bird veered away, gaining height in seconds to circle above, screeching. Kate pulled up and Madi's horse also stopped and she slid around its neck, losing her balance, her feet coming out of the stirrups, but she stayed in the saddle.

‘Harpy eagle. What a beauty.' Kate shaded her eyes as the cream and brown bird of prey drifted on an updraught, its wings motionless.

‘I thought it was going to attack you. I've never seen a bird so huge.'

‘Largest eagle in the world. On the endangered list too. Means that calf is around here somewhere.' Kate dismounted and helped Madi down. ‘Let's lead the horses for a bit, see if we can find any signs or hear anything.'

They walked in the shoulder-high grass and Kate pointed to a small trail of broken stalks.
They followed it and Madi touched Kate's shirt. ‘I heard something.'

Kate nodded. ‘It's over there.'

It was a low gurgle, a kind of bleat, and there, lying in the grass in a small dip, was a new-born calf, one leg ripped and bleeding. Stricken brown eyes pleaded at the two women. ‘Hold the horses.' Kate handed Madi both sets of reins and scrambled down the slope.

She was quite near the animal when the eagle struck, landing on the calf's neck, its talons encircling and piercing it. Blood gushed and the calf struggled. Kate rushed forward, as Madi screamed ‘No!'. The horses reared, Madi tried to hold them steady, and the eagle lifted in the air. With a furious pounding of wings, it sought to gain the freedom of the sky with its limp burden of dangling Bambi-like legs and twisted neck. It struggled low and slowly for a hundred metres, then the calf fell from its grasp. The eagle circled, then swept in and crashed down on the fallen prey hidden in the grass. It didn't rise again and Madi knew that its hooked beak was now ripping the tiny carcass to pieces.