BITING THROUGH

‘You with that lot?’ said a man’s voice to the right of me as I sat near the top of Ninetree Hill.
‘No,’ I said, ‘watching...and filming,’ the camera on a tripod in front of me.
‘They were here yesterday during the night as well.’
‘I saw two of them do the skull and there were four this afternoon.’
‘Who’s paying for all the paint I’d like to know?’
‘I was wondering about that,’ I said. ‘There’s a lot of it.’
‘And they carried it up there and everything else.’
‘Intrepid don’t you think?’
‘If they worked that hard for someone else they’d make a lot of money,’ he said and walked off.
A short time later a man, pushing a bike up the hill, said, when he got to me, ‘amazing isn’t it? A crocodile and a skull.’
‘A crocodile?’ I said. ‘Oh yes, I can see it now. I didn’t know what it was.’
‘Yeh, it’s on its side...you can see the teeth...and the eye,’ all the while pointing. ‘The connection between them,’ he said, ‘is the teeth, sharp teeth, sharp bite.’
‘Getting your teeth into it,’ I said.
‘Biting through.’