While the wallaby females ferry and feed the joeys, the males do blokey stuff — like fighting.
I had seen very young males practice-fighting in my yard but these two were old enough and big enough for the real thing.
Given that they chose the grass right next to my shaded glasshouse for their wrestling and kickboxing, I kept imagining a lurch, a crash of breaking glass, as they danced about on their hind legs or balanced on their tails.
But after a while they simply tired of it and went back to eating grass. They vary this with checking for any new shoots on the reachable branches of my mighty Banksia Rose, which they keep stripped bare of blossoms and leaves and looking like a strange fringe to the lush flowering above. They stand on their hind legs to do this too.