I’d been away for a while & I’d heard that the kangaroos had left town. It had rained and rained and the grass was all green and lush, like Ireland, – so the kangaroos didn’t need to come out of the bush anymore to feed on the village Common.
I was already missing them. It’s a privilege, never quite taken for granted, to get so near to a group of wild animals. Not too close, there’s always something of an edge to human/ kangaroo interaction. Better to look from a slight distance, no need to find out where the phrase ‘boxing kangaroo’ came from…
But the village with out the kangaroos- like a Western with out cowboys. Missing the drama.
At first it seemed to be holding true, but then, the first sighting; one of the old males who has been forced out of the mob and who sticks close to town. Always a slightly haughty look, as if trying to hold onto past dignity.
They were still there, more on the edges of town, gathering in the dusk. A couple in the slightly comical reclining “Roman” pose near the camping ground. Still there, for now, those other magical inhabitants of the village.