To the north of the Gardens Matti encounters a stone tablet. We gaze at it together. It tells of the Swan River Catchment but, beside me, Matti is restless. She shuffles anxiously from paw to paw, as if sensing some cataclysmic event. I glance at the weather where the storm clouds gather, but Matti points her sniffing nose to a second sign, taped to the tablet.

Disturbed, we hurry on

Then Matti bridles and snatches to the right, every muscle beneath her glossy brindle is taut and trembling. Just as suddenly she relaxes, walks on, sniffs and turns again, drawn like a magnet to the wetlands where she knows she mustn't go. Above her head a flight of Pelicans glide low with landing lights on. Matti's wide eyed gaze follows them down every inch of the way. If that paper line that bonds us should tear she would be amongst them in the blink of an eye. But, by some miracle, she holds, and we walk on.