At present there are lots of wallaby joeys old enough to be out and about on their own.
They’ve grown past the long-legged spindly stage into one of equally cute chubbiness, and are less nervy and jack-in-the-box bouncy than their toddler siblings.
One sunny morning when the valley below was still filled with mist, there seemed to be hardly an adult in sight, just scattered young ones enjoying the warmth after a damp few days. Like the two above…
…and this one! They weren’t hanging out together, and each one was pop-eyed and watchful, but none moved. I could imagine their mothers admonishing them: ‘Now stay right there until I come back—or else!’
But nearer the cabin was one of the younger joeys, still very clingy to mum in between mad dashes up and down the track.
A reassuring drink, and then, always astonishing to me, he did climb back into that pouch, long legs and tail the last to fit. It was a very low-slung pouch indeed when all was in!