From My Window

• Marcus Graham, Grade 7, Hunter Valley Grammar School
• Short Story
• 2012

Finalist in the 'Legendary 2012' competition

As I lay half awake curled up in my fleece pyjamas on a cold winter morning, I find my gaze drawn to the smoky fog hovering over our still, reflective dam.
Occasional ripples in the water are the only sign of the tiny, darting swallows descending upon the water for an early morning drink. The high pitched screech of the nearby plovers also indicate that wildlife is awakening as they squawk to defend their small, speckled quail-like eggs that lay in the dewy green grass awaiting their time to hatch.
My heart feels heavy at the sight of the poisonous, golden fireweed which is slowly taking over the large 10 acre property and I reminisce about the lush green grass that stood in its place a few months ago. As three fat cows lazily munch on the last blades of straw-like growth, I hear their mournful lowing indicating their need for a fresh bale of hay to supplement their dietary needs, yet I cannot seem to rouse myself to do this chore quite yet.
The peaceful morning is abruptly broken by the sound of my eccentric neighbour mowing his bedraggled paddock accompanied by his two playful Labradors. As the breeze shifts, the scent of freshly mown grass wafts through my slightly open window. A sudden splash catches my attention and I note the deaf, black Labrador cheerfully swimming in the dam whilst the younger, yellow lab lay watching from the ragged, gravel driveway.
My gaze sweeps to the right and rests upon the rolling green hills nestled along the bank of the Williams River. Local tales lend it an air of mystery with stories of bushrangers who used the rough terrain for natural cover whilst recovering from plundering local homesteads. Elderly local historians swear that Captain Thunderbolt hid out in these woods whilst being hunted down by troopers... I wonder what tales these mountains could tell.
The smell of manure and clip clopping of horse shoed feet gently call me back to reality. Through the fog I see the hazy image of a lone rider on a scruffy brown mare, trotting down the potholed road. In the early morning light this is a very lonely sound.
As I begin to drift off into a fitful sleep the arrogant crowing of a rooster reawakens me and reminds me of all the chores awaiting my attention... I slowly drag myself from bed and see that the fog has begun to burn off. As I head out the door, I spy an eagle eyed kookaburra suddenly leaving the fence post, he skillfully swoops to the ground, expertly pecks in the grass and devours a worm unseen by the human eye... and so begins another day on my farm.