Our hut is in the middle of a swath of rolling land of a forest clearing were we planted cassava and corn. It was bounded by the forest on all sides. We settled outside the village of our tribe where the huts clustered to each others, because my husband wanted to be near to our farm.
One day while my husband was inside the forest I cultivated my vegetable garden, a stone-throw away from our hut. My baby was sleeping then in a bamboo bed under the shade of a tree beside our hut.
Suddenly our dog barked feverishly facing the nearby trees of the forest. I was not bothered for I was thinking that it was barking at wild hogs who wanted to raid our cornfield.
Then our dog ran toward our hut as it barked angrily.
To my horror I saw a big low flying eagle swooping down toward the tree where I place my baby.
It was so swift that even our dog was unable to catch it. Instantly my sweet baby was gone.
All I could do is to slump on the ground; cried and wailed amid the barking of our dog.
From the oral account of Malik from Mindanao, Philippines.
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