
1 chapter • 3 scenes
In 1932 Western Australia, artillery sergeant Gwynydd Meredith leads a military operation against thousands of emus devastating farmland, only to discover that superior firepower means nothing when nature refuses to follow the rules of war.





Endless golden wheat stands in precise rows under harsh Western Australian sun, punctuated by trampled corridors where emu flocks have fed. The flatness offers no cover, no concealment—every movement visible for kilometers, turning military ambush tactics meaningless.

Canvas tents arranged in regulation spacing beside rusted farm equipment, creating an absurd juxtaposition of military order and agricultural chaos. Lewis guns mounted on makeshift stands face empty horizon while spent shell casings accumulate in meaningless piles.
Major Meredith's complete transformation from confident military officer to humbled student of nature, encompassing his call to confront the emu "invasion," trials against an unpredictable enemy, and ultimate return bearing wisdom about humanity's limits.
Major Meredith's complete transformation from confident arrival through humbling trials to final acceptance, encompassing his departure into nature's domain, initiation through repeated tactical failures, and return carrying wisdom about humanity's limits.
Major Meredith arrives at The Military Camp with Sergeant McMurray, meeting Jack Fletcher and establishing operations with military precision while Margaret Ainsworth prepares to document what she assumes will be a straightforward pest control mission.

Days of failed engagements shatter Meredith's tactical doctrine as emus outmaneuver every ambush, while McMurray's unspoken wisdom, Fletcher's growing irony, and Margaret's detailed observations of emu intelligence force everyone to confront the operation's fundamental absurdity.

Meredith stands among his failed operation's remnants at The Military Camp, listening to McMurray's bush wisdom, reading Margaret's documentation, and acknowledging Fletcher's hard truth that asking for help wasn't failure—refusing to adapt was—ultimately accepting that some battles require yielding rather than force.
