This little guy survived despite all the odds, and when it was time to go - he just kept coming back.

 

Swamp Wallaby     Wallabia bicolor

It was very late on a cold July night in 1997 when I received a phone call. It was from a horse trainer friend who lived about 5km away. Her neighbour had just arrived home with a Swamp Wallaby joey whose mother had been killed on Round Mountain Road by the car in front of him. He had bundled up the joey, driven home and then gone to Robyn for help. She knew I was a carer, (though not at that time of Wallabies!) and rang me.

I drove out to collect him without much hope for his survival. He was pink, and hairless, and bruised. I contacted an experienced carer who advised me to make him comfortable for the night, and she would collect him the next morning. I didn't expect to see him again.

I rang to check on his progress a couple of times, and he was still hanging in. The next time I rang I was asked if I'd like to take him on when he was stabilised, and, (after some training on my part) 'Bob' joined the family. By then he weighed 420grams ? all of it attitude!

He had several setbacks including a dose of thrush, diarrhoea several times, and a mystery illness, but he always bounced back. (It usually took me longer to recover) I found him one morning semi-paralysed in his pouch. I rushed him to the vet who could offer no explanation or treatment. "Just make him comfortable until he dies"... The whole family was in mourning.

We dragged ourselves through a family get-together at our house that day, trying to look cheerful for the relatives from Sydney (not everyone understands how attached you become - "It's just an animal") Bob was still alive when we went to bed, prepared for the worst.

I woke early the next morning (after checking on him through the night) to find him sitting up in his pouch, demanding his breakfast! He had totally recovered and no one could give an explanation.

Over many months he gradually put on weight, grew a beautiful thick reddish coat and organised the household.

At about this time I was asked to take a female joey. She had been found on someone's doormat early in the morning. She had fur beneath the skin - shadows - and Dawn was the opposite of Bob. She was easy to feed, independent and reserved.

It became a real challenge to organise our activities around feed time because Wallabies should never be carted around if at all avoidable. If I had to go to work, I moved their feed forward. I got up at 3am so they could have two feeds before I went. I came home at lunchtime and fed them again, then they could last until evening. They also generated more than their fair share of washing too.

Just before our bedtime each night, and after the last feed, we would close all the doors, and that was 'playtime'. Bob would begin by tentatively exploring up and down the hallway, and into any open doorway. After his inspection, it was 'workout time'.

He would hop at a mad pace through the house, leaping on and off lounges and beds, skidding around corners as he went (one corner was always a bit of a challenge because of the slippery slate floor).

Usually by the time we'd finished our 'cuppa's the entertainment was over, and he'd flip into his pouch. Dawn by contrast was always restrained and 'lady like'. She would sedately hop from room to room avoiding the main traffic areas. If she obstructed the track, Bob would bowl her over, or leap on her. At bedtime they went back into their playpen in our bedroom with lots of greenery to eat at night.

As they grew, they went from our bedroom to a playpen outside on sunny days - with a shade cloth cover for predator protection (we have a lot of raptors, hawks etc here); then graduated to the big pen with a large yard, a predator proof enclosure for night, and a large covered area for wet days.

Feeding was a lot easier now, twice a day picking greenery, and in the evening, pieces of fruit, nuts, hay etc. Bob's favourites were "farmer's friends", a tough weed called 'broom', passionfruit, and yellow guava (both grow on our farm). He also enjoyed fig, lillipilli, sally wattle and brush box.

Bob's close calls were not over however. One lunchtime I went to feed them and found a large goanna making a hasty retreat over the 2 metre high fence. I found Bob with large wounds to one front paw and 'underarm'.. We patched him up, and continued to dress the wounds with a spray I got from the vet. He still has the scars.

And then one day, it was time to say goodbye. Bob and Dawn were ready for release. The weather was good. There was plenty to eat. It was time to open the gate and let them go. We watched them hop into nearby forest and wished them well.

That evening I went to check the pen, and Bob was back!! He had returned for his evening meal. I locked him away from predators for the night, and tried again the next morning, and the next, and the next.

He got into a routine fairly quickly. Sometimes he would come for dinner, sometimes he liked to be in his old spot in the sun, and if it was raining Bob came home! He hated being wet! It took three months before he decided to finally go 'solo'.

He still visits. After putting twenty new Azalea bushes all carefully positioned according to colour I looked out my bedroom window the next morning to see Bob carefully picking and eating every flower!

In Autumn and Winter my day lilies are trimmed to ground level, my elephant ears are purple stalks, my marguerite daisies are 20cm green stalks and my gazanias are no more! I've given up growing vegetables and I know it's useless to plant poppies or primulas or snowflakes. I'm limited to growing only what Bob... doesn't like.

We saw him recently, (raiding my garden again!) and he has a lot of pink scar tissue down his neck and one shoulder, almost certainly the result of a dog attack. We have several people in the area who refuse to lock up their dogs at night. But Bob's a survivor.

I know that one day I'll realise I haven't seen him in ages, and my new plants are still intact, even in winter. I'll know then that he's finally succumbed to old age or something worse, but it still would have been worth it. He has repaid tenfold all that time and trouble and worry because he's back where he belongs.

Article by Michelle Barnsley

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