Hunting the Wild Plains Wanderer – Deniliquin, New South Wales
They’d scented fresh blood. And in the deathly silence of twilight as dusk fell over the moonlit plain, I could hear them coming for me. A million manic mosquitoes, and I couldn’t move a muscle. Actually, that’s a lie. I COULD move – but I’d chosen not to. For 3 good reasons. Firstly, listening for the call of the enigmatic[…]
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