Save Us

I run through the forest,

I use my majestic sense of smell,

I train my claws to dig for termites,

I sniff the coarse dirt,

I calculate the vibrations of my prey.

At last,

I dig.

I dig even more,

until I find my prey.

Those termites that are as savoury as strawberries.

My ancestors have forged me

to dodge cunning cats and ferocious foxes,

to avoid their deceivingly welcoming mouths.

But sometimes our naïve friends get tricked into getting their bones crunched,

but that’s not it.

Forgetting farmers, brainless builders and money-wanting miners,

take away our homes.

The termites die.

We starve. We cry.

We are the numbats, and we are dying.