the Emu.

The emu stood tall in the golden grasses of the outback, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon. Around her, a handful of tiny, striped chicks scurried about on wobbly legs, chirping excitedly as they explored their new world. These were the first of her clutch to hatch, their downy feathers blending perfectly with the dry brush.

But she wasn’t done yet. Beneath her, more eggs lay nestled in the soft dirt, their speckled shells waiting to crack open. Life was arriving in stages, as it always did, and each new chick added to her responsibility. She had laid over fifteen eggs this season, a tremendous feat, but it also meant that she had to be constantly on guard.

The outback was no gentle nursery. Predators like foxes, dingoes, and even large birds of prey prowled the landscape, their sharp senses keen for an opportunity. One wandering chick, one moment of distraction, and the unthinkable could happen.

The emu paced around her clutch, her powerful legs ready to spring into action at the first sign of danger. Her speed was her greatest asset—a blur of feathers and determination that could chase down most threats. For now, though, she kept close, her broad body providing both warmth and protection for the unhatched eggs.

The already-hatched chicks darted around, pecking curiously at insects and seeds. One adventurous little one strayed too far, and the emu let out a low, guttural call that made it stop and scurry back to her side. She lowered her head and nudged it gently with her beak, a reminder to stay close.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the emu prepared for another long night. The stars began to twinkle overhead, and the stillness of the outback crept in. But she stayed alert, every muscle primed to protect her brood.

Tomorrow, more eggs would hatch, more tiny lives would emerge, and her job as a mother would grow even harder. But the emu was relentless, a fierce guardian of her young. No matter the odds, she would stand her ground, a symbol of resilience in the heart of the wild.