Old McLarsen had some Farms

Chapter Four: Roo-manship?

As suspected, our vestibule (or lobby) was not only the entrance to our house, but it might as well have been - the front door was never used. The vestibule was the handiest room in the old farmhouse, with its numerous brass hooks to hang coats and hats, and racks to store boots. There was even space for excess footwear - like those thongs (and other sandals) Kanute had suggested would soon sprawl all over the floor - and kangaroos hanging in bags from most, if not all, of its six door-handles. The joeys loved peeking out at each other, and comforting themselves that others of their ilk were near. And I loved the convenience of my babies being together at feeding or cuddle times, or when I brought them out to play.

A baby kangaroo is happiest hanging in anything that provides a close approximation to its mother's pouch. Although I started with one of my large knitted nylon bags for my first joey Snoopy, I continued to mull over alternative bedding ideas. One day, as I sorted through unwanted and unnecessary jumpers, a light-bulb moment occurred.

"A jumper... that's IT!" My unexpected outburst made Kanute jump, and drop his farm newspaper with a rustle. It slithered to the floor, despite him grabbing wildly at it.

"What are you talking about?" His bemused expression made me laugh.

"I've got it! I really have. It's really easy and it'll be SO good - they're going to love this." I was excited and babbling somewhat, as I held up an old jumper.

"Look! If I cut off the arms-like this-and stitch them up," and I poked in some safety pins as simulated stitches, "and then if I sew this bottom band at the back onto a coat-hanger-you know, one of those straight wooden ones? VOILA! - we have a 'roo bed."

We were both impressed as we visualised the transformation. A warm hang-up bed with a wide opening for the babies to somersault into. Kangaroos really do go into a pouch headfirst. They wriggle their clumsy body and great long legs and tail, through a somersaulting action. Curious little faces pop out again, as if to say, "Look! Aren't I clever?"

The cutest part of our vestibule (or 'roo bedroom) was first thing each morning, when either Kanute or I came out, to be greeted by small heads popping out of their bags to check who was there.

"Click, click," we would say with our tongues, lifting one side of our mouths.

"Click, click," all the babes would answer, almost in unison. What a cheerful way to start the day, with sweet little characters like these to welcome you. Whatever the new day might bring, they faced it with equal parts of enthusiasm and joy.

From day one, I fed them cuddled firmly in my arms, exactly like a human baby. They had so many similarities - precious, vulnerable, totally dependent, incredibly cute and loveable. Exactly like a human baby, the tiny 'roo needs a teat to suck on for sustenance and comfort - in almost matching quantities. The joey requires an especially thin, but long teat on a regular baby bottle. How laboriously I would make up the complex formula, until I learned fresh goat's milk was the closest to 'roo milk and provided a perfect substitute. We found ourselves partial to goat's milk, just as the joeys were. It is brilliantly white milk with a subtle sweetness, with delicious cream rising and thickening on top. Mmm-mm...

"What about the gentlest kangaroo you ever raised?" Kanute asks, with a twinkle in his eye, and a broad smile on his face. I smile right back, but a tear or two well unexpectedly.

"Biddy," I say... and the years roll back. All young 'roos have worried and shrunken faces, seemingly frowning with bewilderment at their strange new world, but Biddy always looked more concerned than most. She was always clicking and clucking over something; a born little mother.

"What about her breaks?" Kanute interrupts my musing. I was coming to that part. He looks thoughtful now, as he did back then. For some reason we never understood, Biddy had chalky bones, and broke both her back legs at different times. Luckily, each of the breaks was in the large back leg, in the part that lies along the ground. I say luckily, because a joint injury can cause a total loss of flexibility, and often the end of life for a wild animal.