Wallaby world

On my Substack posts I am going through my archives, so I thought I might do the same here, in between trips elsewhere and posts about them.

I urge you to subscribe so you get an email notification when I post; it’s free.

When choosing my favourite photo, it had to be this one.

The mum (an Eastern Redneck, my most common wallaby there) had decided my western mud brick cabin wall, not far from my steps, was her spot.

I was overwhelmed when her joey and I locked eyes one day, as for it I was its first human, likely to be the only human it would ever see in its life here on my isolated mountain wildlife refuge.

So that meant that my theme was going to be wallabies, especially wallaby joeys. I never got over how small the mothers often were, and how big the joeys got and were still carried about in that cosy pouch. And besides, they are so very cute…

I watched them go from hairless and totally pouch-bound to hairy and venturing their front legs out, having the best of both worlds. They would nibble the grass as Mum levered herself along as she grazed.

Yet even when too big to fit in the pouch, they could still drink her milk. The mothers would tolerate this for a while, then cuff the young away. Final weaning steps, I guess.

I wasn’t so keen on some of the adults’ habits.

After I had to let them all into the yard, due to the pressure of writing ‘Rich Land, Wasteland’, they totally trashed my garden.

I’d foolishly thought they’d mainly eat the grass that I no longer had time to mow. Hah!

They didn’t eat the leaves of bulbs, so the naturalised jonquils and daffodils survived.

But it was unexpected that they’d eat strong-smelling plants like lavender. This was a rosemary bush!

Nor did thorns deter them, as they did the same to roses.

But they were a daily treat to watch. They could ignore me as the only human, and be totally natural. They knew it was their world.

How sweet is this young one? Even as it poses in front of a stripped heritage rose bush…

No wonder I miss the real world of my Mountain and the real wildlife with whom I shared it.