During dinner at the Shamrock Hotel in Numurkah a few days ago, Sue McGorlick mentioned an acquaintance of hers, Rachel, who rehabilitates orphaned baby kangaroos, or joeys. I'd been thinking about kangaroos and Australian road kill as a story topic for some time, so I asked Sue where this woman lived.
"Right here, in Numurkah," she said.
A couple of days later, on a sweltering December afternoon, Alison and I drove the short distance from Wunghnu to Rachel's house, a modern single-storey brick bungalow with an inner courtyard enclosed by a wooden fence. Outside, propped in a chair on the front stoop, was an effigy of Santa Claus in his heavy red-and-white cold-weather outfit; his cherubic face was covered with a rubber mask of the wolf man, gnashing his teeth.
"That's for the bad kids," Rachel remarked as she opened the gate to let us in.
Grazing in the middle of a patch of grass, amid flower beds, a large dog house and a portable swimming pool, were two Eastern Grey kangaroos in miniature: triangular heads, the ears of a wild hare and bodies engineered for propulsion. In profile, their leg-tail configuration reminded me of the legs of Mies Van der Rohe's Barcelona chair. Lizzie, the female, had been rescued from her mother after she'd been hit by a car in front of the college campus at Dookie, a town about 20 minutes south. Rooster, the male, was discovered hopping nearby, also without a parent. The two were the same age, but not siblings. Rooster's mother had likely met the same fate. According to Rachel, joeys can survive in the mother's pouch up to four days after she's been killed, so it's always necessary to take a close look when a downed kangaroo is discovered.
I had expected the joeys to be feral and aloof, but they enjoyed being petted and scratched, straightening their backs and leaning in blissfully. Their fur was surprisingly soft; on the ridge of Rooster's back it grew in both directions, permanently tousled. Lizzie's coat was fleecier and more Steiff-like, and on her belly she already had a tiny pouch of her own. I wrapped my fingers gently around Rooster's tail. It was heavy and bony. It felt like a garden house filled with wet cement, and as strong as a buggy spring. Rooster hopped away a few feet across the yard and then back to me for more attention.
When it's time for bed, the joeys sleep in homemade cloth bags that Rachel hangs on a couple of door knobs in her living room. When she brought them out, Lizzie and Rooster climbed inside and Alison and I each got to hold a bagful of baby roo until it was time to leave.
Rachel explained that in another four months Lizzie and Rooster would be too big for her property and they'd be transferred north to a place near the border with New South Wales, close to where they'd be released.
"As sweet as they are now," she explained, "they go feral very quickly once they go back to the wild."
"Right here, in Numurkah," she said.
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| Rooster leans into a good scratch. |
"That's for the bad kids," Rachel remarked as she opened the gate to let us in.
Grazing in the middle of a patch of grass, amid flower beds, a large dog house and a portable swimming pool, were two Eastern Grey kangaroos in miniature: triangular heads, the ears of a wild hare and bodies engineered for propulsion. In profile, their leg-tail configuration reminded me of the legs of Mies Van der Rohe's Barcelona chair. Lizzie, the female, had been rescued from her mother after she'd been hit by a car in front of the college campus at Dookie, a town about 20 minutes south. Rooster, the male, was discovered hopping nearby, also without a parent. The two were the same age, but not siblings. Rooster's mother had likely met the same fate. According to Rachel, joeys can survive in the mother's pouch up to four days after she's been killed, so it's always necessary to take a close look when a downed kangaroo is discovered.
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| Lizzie prepares for a nap. |
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| Bag o' roo. |
When it's time for bed, the joeys sleep in homemade cloth bags that Rachel hangs on a couple of door knobs in her living room. When she brought them out, Lizzie and Rooster climbed inside and Alison and I each got to hold a bagful of baby roo until it was time to leave.
Rachel explained that in another four months Lizzie and Rooster would be too big for her property and they'd be transferred north to a place near the border with New South Wales, close to where they'd be released.
"As sweet as they are now," she explained, "they go feral very quickly once they go back to the wild."
