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Kangaroos - The 100 Days Project: Day 21 [80]

The Meat Hole

Photo: ‘Meat Hole, Broken Hill Tip’ by Teya Brooks Pribac

We ask for the Meat Hole and the man at the gate gestures down the track to a large, red-dirt compound on the far side of the dump. As our car approaches, a murder of a thirty or forty crows rises in protest, settles on the ridge of a tall mound of earth beside a twenty metre trench. They say still-living horses have been found discarded here, not to speak of goats, dogs, pups, kittens, cats, but today nothing stirs. We are lucky, I suppose. Beside the trench are two large piles of kangaroo-cuttings – paws, tails, stripped rib-cages, leg-parts, viscera – though in the trench itself there are only cardboard boxes of butchers’ waste, trays of rotting meat from a local supermarket, and, strewn about the edges, forty or fifty severed paws of Western Greys dragged off the piles by the birds.

Photo: ‘Meat Hole, Broken Hill Tip’ by Teya Brooks Pribac

The stench is almost unbearable, seeps into our skin, our mouths, our hair like spilt oil. At the end of the trench, on a soft pillow of blood-stained sand, the heads of three half-buried goats are frosted with something white – lime, it must be. Were it not already 37 degrees, at 9 a.m., you could almost think it was snow.


DB, Notebook, January 2009

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