Bush Tucker ExperiencesTwo aboriginal kids first introduced me to bush tucker. Herman, about 8, and Stephen, about 10, were my only regular school bus passengers during my brief stint as bus driver from Ti Tree, 55km to Aningie. My first experience of hunting came one afternoon when we were about 50 km from town on a long corrugated stretch of dusty road. Suddenly the boys began yelling, “Stop the bus, stop the bus. Goanna! Goanna!” I eventually pulled to a stop and the boys tumbled out and raced across the flat spinifex scrub. I followed as best I could and only caught up to them when the goanna they were chasing climbed a small dead tree. I said, “Maybe you can climb up and knock him down again”. They said, “No maybe you climb up and knock him down”. I argued that I was a bit old to be climbing trees and I would help chase the goanna if one of the boys knocked him down. They replied, “No you too slow. You climb up”. So up I went. Luckily for me when I reached out for the branch the goanna was sitting on it broke off and the branch and goanna tumbled to the ground. The two boys immediately pounced on it and it was dead by the time I reached the ground. As I walked back to the bus with the two excited, beaming boys I asked how they had followed the goanna in the first place. They said, “We track him, look”. I looked where they pointed but only saw red clay. It was only when they made me get down on my knees could I see the tiny pin prick in the clay made by the claw on the front toe of the goanna. They had followed these tracks at a run! As the bus journey continued the boys laid their trophy on the dashboard and began singing. They explained that now they had the spirit of one goanna they might be able to sing up another one.
Herman and Stephen digging for bush tucker
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