A long, long time ago, two Noongar tribes lived near each other on the Great Southern. They fought over the land for many years, and hundreds from both tribes were killed in battles and skirmishes. Finally after the biggest battle of all, as the remaining survivors mourned and grieved, an enormous cloud descended and obscured the countryside in a foggy shroud.
When it finally lifted, there where once were rolling plains, between the two tribal grounds lay a giant noongar. He lies on his back, staring up at the heavens. His profile with its protruding stomach can still be clearly seen by those who care to look from the right viewpoint. Or so it is said. I have looked and looked, and I cannot see him.
Maybe next time, from another direction.