Makuta felt the dusty reddish-brown earth crunch under his boots as he walked across the Australian outback. The Bush, as it was so ironically called in the local slang, was very arid, dry, and sparsely populated with the occasional speck of green among its beautifully colored rocks.
  He stepped forwards, feeling his pack weighing heavily against his back, large triangular ears occasionally flicking, catching the sound of an insect or small rodent scurrying about as he progressed. His black, feline nose flared slightly, taking in the deep scents of the world around him, deep orange-red eyes observing the glorious panorama of Australia as it stretched out before him, those twin orbs striking against his deep blue-ish purple coat. It got him a few stares here and there, under the right light he almost looked like a black cat. The striking color made the more superstitious of his acquaintances a bit wary, but he didn’t let it bother him much. He just busied himself in his work.
  He loved these trips to Australia; there were few more interesting ecosystems than this short of the Galapagos. This was an entire island nation isolated from outside influence, outside gene pools, for hundreds of thousands of years. Here could be found creatures that could only be dreamed about otherwise, kangaroos, koalas, the eternal mismatched mystery of the platypus. Such was the ecology here , that those who had never seen it, might doubt its existence if it weren’t for the TVs and radios which conveyed everything these days.
  He took another deep breath, letting it out slowly through his mouth, finding a rock in the shade of a tree on which to rest. His clothes were simple, the ‘Irwin’ look the students back at the campus tended to call it, a simple khaki shirt and shorts, along with a floppy brimmed brown hat nestled between his ears, providing a bit of personal relief from the sun as he trecked. Makuta took this off now, clutching the rough fabric between black padded fingers as he took a moment to wipe his brow. The shade of the tree was nice, but it did little to defend him from the heat of the outback sun burning hot and bright in the blue, cloudless outback sky.
  Moments like these were what he lived for; quiet respite in the wilds of nature. Being in the field he was, he knew that nature itself was seldom calm or quiet, but that really just made moments like this all the more special. In a world of noise, one had to take the quiet where the could get it, and enjoy it while they could.
  His eyes strayed to the trunk of the tree where a beetle crawled slowly up along its gnarled bark. Internally, for no other reason than his own amusement, he tried to classify what species it was. It looked mildly brown, with odd patterns on its back, that meant it was probably…
  Before he could think, in the blink of an eye, a lizard shot out from the thinning grass around the tree’s base. He saw a flash of pink as its small maw opened wide, and in a moment the beetle was swallowed, nothing more than a lump traveling down the lizard’s throat.
  Makuta chuckled, more out of surprise than anything. That was nature, and to a degree, that was what he loved about it, the struggle, the uncertainty, the dog-eat-doggedness of it all. It was fascinating from a scientific standpoint, and exhilarating from an emotional one. There were just so many interesting relationships from one animal to the next that it was hardly even something a regular person could comprehend.
  This was also why he felt so strongly about protecting it.
  There were poachers all throughout the outback, this he knew. here in Australia lived animals that existed nowhere else in the whole of creation. Millenia of isolation in the middle of the ocean had seen to that. On this land climbed, flew, and crawled things that the sailors of old would have thought mythical, but were just as solid as any other creature in the world.
  That made them valuable.
  He’d heard of a case quite recently of a poacher who’d tried to catch one of the most spectacular creatures in the whole of this large island nation. The Great Eagle: Marahute. A bird the size of a bus, with a wingspan enough to put even the dinosaurs of the old world to shame, it’s golden feathers enough to make even the richest man weep at their beauty. He hoped one day that he might see such a sight, but so far he had not been so lucky on his little sabbaticals into the bush. Still he held out hope to one day witness it’s full magnificence. He had been overjoyed to learn that the eagle had escaped its bonds and remained free in the outback. Alas, only a few select researchers knew of it’s nesting location, and the secret was heavily guarded, lest more poachers try to get their hand on the great golden bird. He understood why this was, but he still felt a slight pang of longing to be included in such a wondrous secret. Still, for now he had his outback, he had his blue sky and he had his quiet rest away from the noise of the city. He was content
  Makuta brought his rest to an end, getting up and stretching a bit. It had been a nice little hike into the bush, but he was wanted back at the research station for sure. If there was anything he didn’t like about these trips, it was that one could never choose the company they would have to keep until the grants that allowed such research ended. He had been saddled with a particularly loud wolf another, whom, by his estimation, had an ego the size of a small planet.
  His slender blue-ish black tail gave a swish of annoyance. What he wouldn't give just to have the outback to himself sometimes. Surely his research benefited from having another pair of eyes to check his work, but the illogical part of his mind hated the ‘intrusion’ into his special space. He wished he could be part of the outback forever, alone and unkept by such limitations as grants and research partners. Just him and the joy of nature. It was a foolish, almost childish want really, but he couldn't help b-
  His thoughts were interrupted as a large shadow passed over him. He looked up on instinct, not thinking enough to realize he was looking at the sun. He was dazzled for a moment by the sudden blinding light as a cry split the air. He blinked a few times trying to catch his vision, he could see shapes moving in the brightness. Something bounced along the ground, hopping at full speed. A kangaroo….It was going at full tilt, an impressive thing for a wallaby. Makuta knew that those long, powerful hops, when given proper incentive could easily keep pace with a car. It was running from something. Splotches from the sudden flash of light filled his vision, he tried to shake them away as another cry split the air.
  He got his sight in check just in time to see a great golden something swoop down and grasp the wallaby between talons the size of small refrigerator. His eyes widened. Marhute! It was her! It was actually her! She moved so fast she was little more than a blur in his sight as she swooped up again, riding a thermal as her great wings arced wide. He’d heard stories about her before, but it was quite another thing to see her in person. His brain boggled at her sheer size. She lifted the wallaby as easily as Makuta might lift his own hand,riding high into the air.
  Makuta ran out from under the tree, holding his hat atop his head so it wouldn’t blow away, trying to get the best angle to see the sudden event. The wallaby struggled weakly in her grasp, but her smoothly scaled talons held it in check with little more than a small wiggle as it thrashed about. Even from here, he could see that there would be no escape for the unfortunate creature. Marahute banked to the left, raising one wing and using the thermal to go into a spin, her body graceful, as though the wind were part of her, those golden feathers shining in the sun in ways that would put the golden statues of Egypt to shame.
  Makuta watched in wonder as, with a deft motion, her talons rose and the wallaby was tossed into the air. The creature stood no chance. Kangaroos could jump high, but it had probably never been much more than seven feet off the ground at any given moment in its life, now it was easily hundreds of feet from the calm red earth below.
  Makuta remembered his career just in time. He was used to being in the field, but this had stunned even him. Still his fingers were practiced and deft, and in a moment he had his camera out, pointing it to the sky right as the kangaroo reached the arc of its ascent towards the heavens, hanging weightlessly for a moment in the air, as though it were some kind of flying creature all its own.
  His padded finger reached for the capture button just in time, the camera was set to the perfect setting, it took seven quick pictures, one for every second. It captured the eagle’s’ beak opening wide, just as it soared upwards. That beak easily large enough to contain the whole of the marsupial. In another frame the poor creature sat suspended in time, right between those closing gates, sealing its fate as part of the eagle’s daily drive to survive.
  In a snap the creature was gone, only Marahute remained, it’s great, whitely feathered neck bulging for a moment as the kangaroo slowly vanished into its gullet. Makuta let his camera drop, watching as that lump slowly grew smaller as it passed the crest of the great eagle's stomach, before vanishing forever more.
  Marahute had devoured the creature whole.
  He’d captured it on film. He’d actually done it. No one had ever managed to get the eagle hunting on tape. Being the last of its kind, there was no record of just what time of day, or where, it did these things. Even the scientists who knew the location of the nest, seldom camped out long enough to make any accurate records. An eagles’ gaze was long, and if they intruded too often, it might disturb its habitat. But now, by chance, by pure, random unabated chance he had captured it on film. It was just seven shots of the eagle feeding, but it was history, and he was here making it. This was what he lived for.
  He knew he should have felt bad for the wallaby, but he really couldn’t find it in himself to. He thought back to the beetle from earlier, and the lizard that had similarly taken it within its form. This was nature; pure, clean and simple, there was no reason to mourn the wallaby’s loss, it would help Marahute live now, and go on to be the beautiful inspiring creature it was. It was kind of beautiful really. Still, the cat wondered what benefit the eagle might gain from swallowing prey whole. He supposed that most birds he’d encountered used their beaks to rend and tear things. They didn’t have teeth, so they couldn't exactly chew...he supposed, that when one was so large, perhaps it didn’t serve to waste energy with such things, when a simple gulp could accomplish the same result.
  He was shaken from his thoughts as another cry shook the air like a thunderclap. He looked up to see Marahute circling again, looking for more prey he imagined. Being an eagle of that size, he couldn’t imagine how many calories it had to take in the course of a day in order to perform as optimally as it did.
  He was far too awestruck to realize it as it banked again, its large golden eye scanning the red outback for anything that stood out, anything that might sate it’s hunger...anything like a pale blue cat staring dumbly at the sky.
  His heart jumped into his throat as he realized just where the eagle was heading. He got another, even more impressive assessment of her size than before as she swooped, down, but this time his amazement was tempered by an obvious, growing fear. She couldn't have been…
  That sharp piercing cry hit him like a cymbal to the face. His heart began to pound. Makuta felt his muscles tense. There was a primal feeling, the sudden realization that the thing heading towards you was a predator, a predator easily five times your size, with sharp talons and a incredible speed. An alpha predator sped towards Makuta, and as he stumblingly turned to run one thought crawled through his mind with frightening slowness.
  I am prey...
  Makuta’s hiking boots gave him traction as he his legs began to pump. He looked for somewhere, anywhere to hide. There was nothing. The outback was as dry and featureless as it had always been, no tree large enough to hide him, no cave deep enough to dive into. All he could do was run, and as he heard another cry, this one uncomfortably close to his back, he knew that simply running wouldn’t be enough...
  Still he had to try at least. He felt the lactic acid building up in his legs, a steady burn flowing through his muscles as he tried desperately to reach some kind of safety. But he was a cat made for study, made for libraries and offices, students and teachers meetings. He didn’t stand the slightest of a chance against such a force of nature.
  It was no surprise, then, when he felt a heavy, all encompassing weight take him by the shoulders.
  Makuta was knocked forward. Automatically he tried to throw his hands in front of him to break his fall, but he felt strong, steely talons wrap around his arms like vices. Those talons were easily large enough to completely envelope his arms from the shoulders to the elbow and then some. His fall was broken as those great wings beat above him. That brown hat fell from between his ears as he was suddenly dragged, his boots trailing through the red earth.
  The world spun and lurched for a moment, all of Makuta’s senses jumbled and swirling for a moment as they struggled to catch up with the sudden change and lack of agency. He felt those talons squeezing at his shoulders, very nearly cutting off circulation, but never quite getting that tight. For just a moment he was thankful for the bird's size; those massive toes were simply too large for the sharp sickles at the tips of those orange scaled talons to cut him in any real way. Time seemed to slow down as the adrenaline took full effect. He looked up and saw the silhouette of the creature that held him, framed against the sun at its back, setting the feathers of its wings ablaze with streaming golden light.
  Makuta’s feet left the earth.
  There was an odd sensation of weightlessness as a single, full, wingbeat pulled him easily seven feet straight up. He screamed, he couldn’t really do much else, he thrashed and tried to pull his shoulders free of those talons as the bird took off, but he may as well have been fighting against steel beams for all the effect it had. It hardly mattered, in mere seconds the ground was so far beneath him, he wouldn’t have survived the drop anyway.
  His heart pounded in his chest. He’d seen what had happened to the wallaby, was it now his turn? To be tossed into the sky and swallowed whole? He looked around wildly in fear...and then...he paused.
  The view was absolutely astounding. Even in this moment of abject terror...he had to appreciate it. He could see the curve of the earth as he was pulled forwards, the wind whipping at his clothes, his hat blowing along the ground below as they climbed. He was struck silent for a moment by the sheer awe-inspiring beauty. He’d never been this high outside of a plane before. He doubted very many people ever had.
  He could feel the wingbeats of the eagle as it held him. It bent its great neck and regarded him for a moment in its grip, great golden eyes met his as it seemed to tilt its head. Makuta supposed it was used to a lot more screaming and thrashing from its prey. Still, he was doing just that; thrashing would do him no good, even if he could get free for now the fall to earth would surely do him in anyway, and screaming only served to make his throat hoarse. His only hope would be if the eagle decided to release him, either by accident or some purpose. He met those eyes and silently pleaded for either case. While the view was astounding, and there was an odd sense of exhilaration in what was happening, he didn’t want to be prey, he wanted to survive.
  The eagle flew for some time. Makuta’s stomach did backflips and frontflips as it banked and soared, heading somewhere unknown. He was surprised when it didn’t just eat him right off like it had the wallaby. The marsupial had been in its grip for mere moments, Makuta had no way of knowing just how long it had been since he was ripped from the ground, but if the eagle had wanted to eat him right off, surely it would have done it before now. It was taking him somewhere...but where?
  Those great wingbeats flapped through the air as something came into sight on the horizon, a great cliff face jutting into the air above a long river, one of the few in this section of the outback. Marahute seemed to be heading there. He’d heard from some whispers among the scholars back home that the large eagle probably nested among the cliffs like its smaller brethren. Was she taking him to her nest?
  He found the answer shortly, those great golden wings making short work of the distance in front of them as the cliff face approached at surprising speed. From above it had been hard to judge just how fast they were going, but with the cliff as a landmark he suddenly realized thier speed was easily over a hundred miles per hour.
  Makuta flinched, starting to trash once again as the rocky outcropping approached faster than he thought possible, but Marahute’s wings spread wide like a parachute, the sudden drag created stopping them as easily as he might stop after a lengthy jog. His stomach gave a lurch as she turned the forward motion into an upwards one, the drag against his clothes pulling at him as she trailed upwards.
  Suddenly the rock-face gave way to a little alcove. He felt droplets of water hitting his face and realized that in just a few beats of her wings Marahute had brought them across the cliffs, near a great, pounding waterfall.
  For a moment Makuta felt weightless as the gripping pressure of the claws let him og. He gave a yell as he pitched forwards, images of himself falling go the bottom of the cliffs onto what surely had to be either jagged rocks of raging water below.
  Instead he only fell a short distance, onto the floor of the little alcove between the rocks, his hands grasping at...straw?
  He caught his breath, looking around to get a better view of where he was….it was a nest, an absolutely massive nest. Towards the back, nestled amongst thicker, softer looking straw, something stirred…
  Makuta was almost knocked face first onto the rocky floor as the massive Marahute landed behind him, almost blocking out all the light from the son at her back, blowing various debris from around the nest away with her powerful wings. She regarded him steadily, tilting her head one way, then another, her great golden beak clicking once.
  She’d taken him to her nest...but why would she do that? Why would she…
  From behind him, came a squeaky, high pitched chirp. His heart almost skipped a beat. He quickly looked back towards the nest in time to see a down feathered head popped out of the various materials that made up it’s structure...followed by a second, then a third Three more sets of much smaller, but equally beautiful golden eyes stared at him curiously.
  Her chicks...they must have been reaching adolescence, he surmised, unable to stop his more academic thinking even now. They had their feathers in and their eyes were open. He looked from them to their mother in shock. She’d brought him to the nest...but surely, surely she couldn’t want to feed him to them...Could she? Even though they were adolescent he was far too big and challenging a meal for eagles of that age…
  The chicks hopped forwards, chirping excitedly. Makuta realized that they each held something grasped in their talons, something small and wiggling; mice. Each chick held a struggling mouse in their pale orange talons.
  Before he could look back to their mother, Marahute’s talon slammed down upon his back, pressing him into the dirt. Her cry split the air, and they replied in kind as she held him down, clawed toes gripping around his body tightly. His heart rate tripled as he saw the chicks similarly tighten their grips.
  This wasn’t a feeding...this was a lesson…
  Makuta began to struggle, his primal drives urging him on to try and escape her grip, but as always it was a useless effort, he may as well have been fighting against a statue for all the eagle’s talons moved. Three pairs of golden eyes regarded him with sharp interest.
  There would be no escaping this strange teaching session. Marahute’s wings ruffled and flapped, her kids obediently did the same. Makuta couldn’t possibly know what they were saying, but it seemed that these eagles were far smarter than average, most birds, with the exception of crows, seldom showed such exact mimicry in their learning.
  He managed to crane his neck up to look into Marahute’s eyes as she looked at her chicks, though a beak was not the most expressive thing, he could almost sense a gentle pride from her as she watched.
The lesson progressed. She gave her wings a second flap, but this time it was enough to get her slightly off the ground. Those talons wrapped fully around Makuta’s torso as he was lifted with her. He further grasped what was happening. He thought back to the wallaby, how she’d tossed it into the air and eaten it in a single swoop. That was how this species ate...and the chicks would have to learn it to survive.
  Another flap of her wings took her back and away from the alcove. There wasn’t enough space for what she wanted to do there. Once again Makuta was weightless as the ground left him. He felt her body shift and move differently than it had before. Last time she had simply been ferrying him from place to place...this time she had a plan.
  The cat’s stomach lurched as he was thrown up into the air by a quick flick of her talons, the world spun end over end as he moved with surprising speed through the air. As he reached the arc of the toss, time seemed to slow down for the second time that day. He spun right side up as the force of gravity pulling him down matched the force of her toss, his body suspended weightless for a moment, below him the vastness of empty space, in front of him, the golden eyes of Marahute. Their eyes met for just one moment, before she shot forwards, using his momentary weightlessness, to her advantage.
  Makuta’s legs were suddenly immersed in warmth. He was shocked at the suddenness of it as time resuming its usual flow around him. He looked down at the beak that held him, to see his legs inside of her beak, the thickness of his hiking vest sparing him the sharpness of the beak at his back.
  It was such an odd and sudden sensation that it took him a moment to quantify it...he was inside her mouth.
  As the realization hit him he began to thrash, his legs kicking out inside that wet, hot maw that held them, but it had little effect besides occasionally creating a bulge along the deep interior of her mouth, the closest thing the giant avian could claim for cheeks. Marahute landed back into the alcove in front of her cheeks as he felt her tongue worming across his bare legs, his shorts doing nothing to hinder its questing as it coiled briefly around his ankle, the hot wetness of it startling against his skin as he tried to dislodge it.
  The eagle tilted her great head back, and in a moment he felt his legs enter something tight, the warmth of her mouth not even comparing to the sudden heat that surrounded them as it began to undulate around them. He found he couldn't kick any more as that tight ring of muscle enveloped them...Her esophagus.
Makuta ‘s heart pounded in his chest. He attempted to brace his hands against her beak, but as she gave another great swallow he found himself sinking further, his calves surrounded by that same warm tightness. It was like trying to fight against a hurricane; those throat muscles contracting and expanding again and again, drawing him deeper by the moment. As his legs twitched weakly he could see the outline of them against her long feathery throat.
He looked around in fear, catching sight, for a moment, of those chicks watching in interest. They looked down at their own captives, pinned under talon, tilting their heads curiously.The chick on the far left was the first to take the initiative, it flapped its tiny wings, getting a small amount of air and using it to flick it’s claw upwards as it had seen its mother do. A small rat squeaked helplessly as it was thrown aloft, thrashing all the way. The throw had been clumsy, but it got the job done. The chick compensated for the slightly off kilter throw, its beak snatching the rats head in its confines, whole and complete,the same way its mother had done. Around his legs Makuta felt the eagle give a strange chirp of approval, the sound vibrating around his body.
She’s telling him he did well… Makuta thought internally, even, now, half swallowed within the throat of the creature he had longed to see for so long, he couldn’t help his scientific mind working.
The other chicks took note and quickly tossed their own catches into the air, a kangaroo rat and a small frog both found themselves tossed into the air before being captured in the small, hungry mouths of the chick, the one with the rat in its beak already starting to swallow. The poor creature had gone down head first, and even from here Makuta could see it struggling inside the chick’s throat, it’s little paws obvious as it tried in vain to escape its fate.
Makuta was brought back to his own predicament as another swallow brought his knees into that ever tightening throat, his hands now entering the creatures maw. He hadn’t been paying attention, and now there was no room within that beak to bend his elbows enough to get them back out.
He thrashed still, Marahute’s eyes still centered on him as he went down, occasionally flicking to her chicks to make sure they were doing it correctly. Her tongue wormed around his thighs now, investigating the sweat he’d built up over his hike, making him squirm and shudder inside her maw. The tip of that thin, pointed muscle delved inside his pant leg, lathering over what it found there.
The feline gasped as the tasting organ drifted over his underwear, her saliva soaking through his shorts now, making them cling wetly to his legs, every movement of that tongue causing the whole garment to shift around him, pressing it tighter against his flesh as it searched.
Makuta’s thoughts left him as it continued to search inside his shorts, taking in his taste, enjoying it, reveling in it. That slender tip even began to prod at the leg of his underwear. He gave a moan as slid easily inside, the saliva coating every part of his lower body allowing it access as it now had unfettered access to his member. It pulled no punches, that surprisingly agile tip lathering itself over his member, where his musk, his taste was strongest, delighting itself in his flavor and the squirms that it produced in that captive prey.
A hot blush washed over Makuta’s cheeks, he had never been the blushing type but the sheer oddity of what was happening and the strange intimacy of the moment drew the expression from him. His legs thrashed all the harder inside the eagle’s throat, trying desperately to free themselves from that fleshy prison, but finding no avenue. His legs couldn’t find purchase, his hands were all but useless, he was well and truly trapped within the confines of her beak.
Another swallow brought him in up to his hips, that tongue having to leave its special place as it became a stretch to keep it there. At his basest left Makuta was almost sorry to see it go, the sudden lack of pleasure almost aggravating after it had pleasured him in such a way intentional or not.
Makuta’s eyes strayed back to the chicks, the one one on the far right already far ahead of its siblings. He could only see the slowly kicking back paws of the rat outside of its beak, its form now a small, spherical bulge in the young eagle’s throat as the chick closed its eyes and savored the taste. The other two weren’t far behind, the kangaroo rat and frog already quickly vanishing into their hungry gullets.
Another swallow brought Makuta in up to his belly button. How his head was the only thing free from of the warmth of that beak. Marahute’s tongue delved under his shirt, helping to drench his torso in that clinging saliva, his body becoming slippery as that throat contracted again to consume more of his body.
He got a final look into Marahute’s golden eyes, those great irises contracting as they centered on him, before that gulp took him beyond their gaze. He turned his head as that beak began to close, just in time to catch the rat’s thrashing tail slowly vanish within the gullet of that hungry chick.
The beak closed.
All fresh air ceased, as Makuta breathed the only thing he received was the stale, humid air of the eagles breath. He squirmed, but he couldn’t find enough room to move his arms effectively. That tongue snaked further under his shirt. The tip found the neck hole and began to tease along the front of his neck. He groaned as the force of it licking up along the slope of his chin forced his head back. The tongue tried to push forwards, but the hole in that shirt prevented it. Sensing the discomfort, it pulled back, sliding wetly back over his belly before slipping out to slide forwards, latering itself over his face now.
He choked as the thick, viscous saliva dripped over his features, matting his fur terribly as strings of it clung around his lips every time he opened them to get a breath.
Marahute swallowed again. His hands vanished down that tight passage, his shoulders now the only thing that remained free of that encompassing hug. Makuta squirmed and thrashed, but it was as useless as it had been before. He was going to be devoured by Marahute, to become part of her great body. It was the circle of life, he’d witnessed it many a time, been a part of it himself to some degree, but now he was the prey, soon to become part of her golden plumage as she hunted for something else to devour.
He took one last look at the wet, dripping confines of her maw, before the next gulp sent all of him plummeting into her throat.
Makuta imagined those chicks looking on from outside as his form became nothing but a bulge in their mother’s throat, slowly struggling the same way the rat had for that chick. Those wet inner walls slowly undulated around him, the eagle’s natural, rhythmic swallowing taking over now, form the more forceful gulps. He could hear the noise of her body, the slow, wet, gurgling noises of her stomach, growing louder as her muscles contracted around his body, making sticky, organic noises all their own, every inch of his body covered in the pressure of her throat, not one inch spared that final massage.
Eventually he felt his boots break out into an open space. Slowly, inch by inch, the rest of him was ferried forth into the eagle’s stomach. He fell forwards into her belly, those wet gurgles now all around him. He pressed against those walls, trying to find balance, but unable to as the slime-coated walls offered no purchase with which to right himself.
Outside, the chicks watched their mother’s belly, she gave a mighty cry which shook Makuta’s world, making it vibrate and echo strangely as he could hear the avian’s great heartbeat.
 Marahute’s chicks tilted their heads this way and that curiously, watching as the creature inside her struggled weakly. The eagle could feel her meal as its movements slowly ebbed, watching her chick’s own bellies move and shift with their dinner.
She opened a great wing, and brought them in close, settling around them, letting them nestle against her warm stomach, the slow struggles, growing slower, lulling them to sleep as the sun set over the Australian outback, their first lesson in feeding completed.