There was a little kangaroo whose name was Wallyroo.
He lived out on our property. His Mum and Dad did too.
His Mother’s name was Jillaroo she was a lovely grey,
and Father Stu was a big red who hopped around all day.
Aunts Subaroo and Ularoo and a ring in they called Jenny,
were all part and parcel of this family group - there were so many.
A big male grey called True Blue, a young buck called Buckaroo
and lots of little babies playing tag as babies do.
Wally still slept in the pouch, safe and warm and cosy.
His brown eyes sneaked a look around , he'd then poke out his nosy.
When he was sure that it was safe then he would scramble out,
though always listened carefully, for Mothers warning shout.
Stu his Dad was big and strong and over six feet tall.
With muscled tail and haunches, he had no trouble at all
in jumping over fences and bounding over logs,
when he saw the shooters Ute, with its spotlights and the dogs.
He kept his family hidden in the trees through midday haze,
and in the cool of evening they would all come out to graze.
They’d while away the heat of day dozing beneath the trees,
down near the creek, where water seemed to cool the summer breeze.
They grazed across our property. Caused no trouble at all.
The sheep were not concerned and I was caught up in their thrall.
They numbered several hundred, roaming on the property
But live and let live if you can, has always worked for me.
The working dogs need feeding and our cash was pretty low.
No cash to spare for tinned meat when fresh meat was there to go.
A nice big roo would feed the dogs (if boned out properly)
for at least a week and they enjoyed some roo meat for their tea.
Occasionally we’d shoot a buck but never aimed at Stu.
Females were also out of bounds, the young and babies too.
We tried to pick the weakest out from every mob we saw
and always made a killing shot, so death was quick and sure.
So thick were roos out where we lived, carcasses on the road,
seemed to lie only yards apart, and all were indisposed.
Crow and eagle, dog and fox the odd goanna too,
acted as undertakers, doing what predators do.
To travel roads at end of day is not a good idea.
For roos are all out and about - of vehicles they’ve no fear.
They’ve not an ounce of road sense, and despite the ‘shoo roo’ gadget.
Fearlessly bound into your path. Another roos just had it.
It’s strange to think our coat of arms is now a delicacy.
Though we’d be better off to farm them. A little farm diversity.
Ecologically they don’t destroy the land like cloven hooves.
As to how the hell you’d keep them in I do not have a clue.
I doubt the day will ever come that they become extinct.
Though discussing that will never be a subject that’s succinct.
Whilst they have feed and water, they can access every day,
the darn things breed like rabbits, especially the grey.
Maureen Clifford ©
