Birds in earnest were now waking with whistle and chirrup and song. From away back on the plains came the happy trumpet call of brolgas dancing to the new-born sun. Red Kangaroo frowned towards the rosy dawn as his long legs took him effortlessly over the ground, his men all out to keep up. He loved his tribe as all did, but he was a thoughtful member, whereas most of his tribesmen were content to leave the thinking to Jerrabri and his council. The lads forded the cold Namoi⁵, waters and strode swiftly on, as if stepping up into a rising ball of gold that awoke the majestic bush into brimful life of tree and bird, plant and animal, insect and reptile, and brought, too, light and warmth to the velvety, chocolate-brown skins of these sons of the wild. From shadowed forest timbers and dark scrub edges wallabies every here and there came cautiously hopping out with their families for their early morning meal upon the open bushland grasses.

The warrior lads eagerly spread out while keeping straight on for the big hill looming up with its towering crest seemingly afire from the sun. They must spear food for the day as they walked along or else go hungry. For their leader would not allow time for the hunt, he would hurry them straight on to the big hill and away up to the top of Ydire, from which they would watch over the country for the safety of the tribe.

Back at the camp smoke was coiling up as yawning women tended the cooking fires. The men still sprawled on their possum rugs within the warm bark gunyahs. They came crawling out to the yells of piccaninnies as their women called that the morning meal was ready.

After a lazy breakfast the men for look-out duty at the big look-out rock called Booroobil strolled away from camp, two for duty at the Porcupine Ridge smoke-signal outpost strolling away in the opposite direction. As the sun grew in warmth the chattering camp gradually picked up weapons or utensils and, forming into groups, strolled in different directions out into the bush. The big-game hunters went through the forest towards the Breeza Plains and sweetly grassed flats where mobs of kangaroos would be browsing, emus stalking sedately along followed by their striped chicks. The fat plain turkey would be there, too, his snakelike head peering up above the grass. A few family groups were strolling away to seek their food elsewhere, the husband alert for whatever might fall to his spear, the wife and children keen-eyed for roots, bulbs, berries, carpet snakes, edible lizards and grubs and sugar cuts, wild bees’ nests, wildfowl eggs and birds.

Most of the women, the girls and boys up to five and six years of age, started off on their chattering way to the big swamp, which, with the scattered lagoons and billabongs, was now alive with foodstuffs of fish, plant, and bird—wild geese, swans, pelicans, teal, black duck, wood duck, whistling duck, red duck, musk duck, with spoonbills and water hens and white and blue herons, and numerous varieties of bushland birds. Different kinds of fish, too, and tortoises, shrimps and yabbies, and shellfish on the bottom, and luscious varieties of vegetable foods in which a big swamp so often abounds. This was a particularly good season, but even so the Gunn-e-darr tribe of the Kamilaroi were blessed in that their wide tribal grounds were all good and well-watered country, and in places such as this swamp and the larger billabongs abounded in food of every kind. No wonder the people were fat and contented and lazy. Only during rare times of big drought did they really go hungry.