Overall, I was pretty happy with the article and duly submitted and had it published. I sat back basking in my efforts and accomplishments without a backward thought to the wonderful gentle unique Australian creature we call the Kangaroo.

In 1995 I was living on a farm in Candelo, a peaceful serene tranquil rural village in the Bega Valley of New South Wales. Perched high on a hill on the edge of the valley, surrounded by views that stretched for eternity of lush green mountains, crystal clear pure rivers and patchwork farmlands. The cottage I lived in was built in 1850 and was called Candelo Cottage and the garden, which was bigger than the cottage was bursting with every type of vegetable and medicinal herb known to man. My ducks, bantams, chicken, roosters, rabbits, guinea fowl and turkeys all pecked around the lawn and gardens. I helped out on the farm with the pregnant cows and the ones who were paralyzed after giving birth to their calves and I loved it so much that I became a native wildlife carer and began to take in sick and injured animals who had been hit by vehicles or attacked by domestic and feral animals. Mostly I was known as the "bird lady" and I had a permanent menagerie of native magpies wandering around the wide wooden verandahs and perched on the window sills and wood heap. One of my magpies, Woody became quite a star, if you tossed a screwed up piece of paper to her she would play soccer with it for hours, chasing it around the house and rolling with it, just like a dog or a cat with a ball of string. Life was perfect.

One evening I heard the farmers truck pull up with a huge handbrake skid outside the cottage and Kerry, the farmer came strolling in with a bundle in his arms. He looked at me sheepishly and I was curious to see what looked like a tail waving about in the bundle. He quickly explained that he was out shooting the 'Roos that had been menacing his top paddock, when he accidentally shot a female with a Joey. Most farmers tried not to kill the females, to get rid of them the males were the first target. Kerry was rueful saying this to me as he knew I was a wildlife rescuer but he explained that he went and picked up the Joey and bought it back with him, hoping that I could help it live.

Just as he said all that the Joey jumped out of the bundle and jumped over to me, then proceeded in the most painful messy way to struggle down the front of my long sleeved T-Shirt. He nearly knocked me out but he managed to succeed while I stayed frozen in amazement. When he had finished, there was this huge malformed wiggling ten month pregnant lump in my front and I had a tail and two legs sticking out of the top of my T-shirt, waving around in front of my face. He snuggled and then was still. I was still standing there stock shock still staring at Kerry who by this time was rolling around laughing at the spectacle and the look of stunned wonder on my face. The Joey seemed to immediately adopt me as "MUM" and had seemingly found his "home".

From that moment on, I became two as the Joey became a permanent addition down my shirt. He would bound up to me and I learned very fast that when I saw him move I had to open my shirt quickly or suffer the scratches on my face and chin as he would paw his way into his "pouch".

I named him Jessie and he was my baby, he would lie back in my arms greedily sucking at his bottle of Wombaroo Kangaroo mix as I fed him, then he would go outside with me for wee wees and then back into his "Pouch" under my shirt. At night he would sleep in a old cloth beach bag which I had lined with babies blankets and hung from my bedside drawers.

As he grew I became more attached to him yet I knew there was a day when he would have to leave. He stopped using me as his pouch and only used the beach bag at night and was weaned off his bottle onto grass and other native flora. He loved to be scratched and rubbed and would lie in my lap at night watching TV with me. He especially love the music video shows and he would lie next to my feet as I cooked dinner at night. He roamed further and further of a day, sometimes I could see him bounding along in a distant paddock only to walk outside and find him dozing in the sunshine on the verandah not long after.

Then the most amazing thing happened to me. I had been infertile for nine years, ever since the birth of my first daughter and told I wouldn't ever have more children (I think with six children now something went wrong there in that diagnosis). I stunningly became pregnant. As my stomach expanded Jessie grew into a male adolescent and that came with natural changes to his hormones and behavior. His onset of puberty began with a typical male Kangaroo behave developing, boxing.

Male Kangaroos Box each other for alpha male status, territory and mating rights to the females. So Jessie began boxing the closest family to him-- me. This became quite dangerous as my stomach grew to mammoth proportions and I had to make the heart breaking choice to send him to the farm next door, Cowsnest, a wonderful magical caring commune like community farm which had a paddock sized enclosure of male Kangaroos being adapted for release into the environment. The day I took him for the drive for the last time lying in his little beach bag with his bunny rugs and tinkle cuddle toy, seeing just his huge ears and big brown eyes stare out over the top at me was one of the saddest in my life. I sat and watched him for over an hour in the new enclosure as he chewed on the grass, sneaking glances and curious wary looks at his fellow peer residents from a safe distance.

Over the next weeks I visited him often, he would bound excitedly up to me when he saw my car and then scratch at my front, halfheartedly and clumsily trying to climb down my shirt again, as if it he knew somehow that this change was a loss of childhood and security and all he had found safe. He would lie by my side as I talked to him, seemingly understanding "roofully" that it was goodbye and he was off into the vast and wild future as a free kangaroo. The day came when I visited no more and the dull ache of separation did not subside for many months to come. I knew Jessie would have been totally released within about 8 weeks of his arrival at the farm which coincided with the birth of my second daughter, an event which was a touch bittersweet, say goodbye to one baby and gain another treasure from the gods. In my heart I always thought that my maternal instinct that had kicked in with Jessie was the reason I fell pregnant. Mind you I never had trouble conceiving after this, the term "breed like a rabbit" comes to my thoughts.

Fast forward eleven years to now, I am living in a rural town instead of a farm so I don't rescue native animals and care for them, besides that my own brood needs enough rescuing to keep an army occupied fulltime. My birth mother live a few hours away on a cotton property and amazingly she rescues Kangaroos and visits us often with her baby Joey. It reminds me of Jessie and each time the Joey comes the bittersweet melancholy of past times comes with it. To watch it feed greedily from it's bottle of Wombaroo, staring into her eyes with love and trust and then to watch her snuggle it own in it's beach bag brings back the memories so sharp, they run like videos through my mind. I can only hope that the maternal instinct doesn't kick in with my birth mother as it did with me, it would be a tad odd to introduce a baby brother or sister to the world at forty.

So here was me in the last week, so proud and self gloating over my article on the benefits and healthy tastiness of Skippy meat without a backward thought of my bond with my baby Jessie, without a tad of guilt over the times we spent together with that unspoken magic between us of guardian and small child. Of the gently love he had for me, his soft paws touching me and his liquid brown eyes searching mine begging me to scratch and tickle and play with him. Or the love and bond I had for him, the joy and happiness he bought me.

On the weekend I troddled merrily off to my part time job as a market researcher for a multinational. I was interviewing people in a small rural allotment in the next town and the day went great. My clients were fantastic and I met some wonderful people so I started the drive home with a smile, singing away at the top of my lungs in the car to Nickelback on the CD player. It was twilight, my favourite part of the day and I was looking forward to relaxing after a busy weekend when I drove around the bend on the lonely country road to see a 4wd coming the other way. Just as she came closer a big buck Kangaroo jumped straight out of the bushes straight in front of her car. She didn't have time to react and bang, the Kangaroo flew up onto her windscreen before falling back onto the side of the road down a slight embankment.

I screeched to a halt and went over to see if everyone was alright, the car, one of those new plastic 4wd toy looking vehicles was mashed up to the window. The lady and her offspring were fine just a little shook up. The Kangaroo was still alive and we rang animal rescue to see what could be done for him. I had no supplies and he needed medical attention so we needed to assess how bad he was because the choice had to be made to ring a vet for euthanasia or a carer. It was more likely to be the vet as an adult male like this gets very stressed and is unable to be calmed easily for treatment and rehabilitation.

I knew all this and was very wary as I stepped down to him slowly from behind, speaking softly to him. I stayed still when I got to him for a few minutes just talking to him then I slowly felt up his leg. Meanwhile, being the country, the next couple of cars that came by stopped for a sticky beak and suddenly a man came crashing down the embankment in front of me saying loudly "How's the roo".

Oh Yeah right, I knew what was going to happen before it began but was helpless--.. Of course the Roo startled and tried to get up on his rear legs and he turned attacking the nearest thing to him in his effort to escape---me----.. hammering into me with the only uninjured weapon he had, his powerful front boxing paws. I felt his claws rip down my face from my forehead and as I bought my arms up to defend against his attack I felt a claw shred along under my eye. The attack was over quickly, he wasn't serious, it was a panic attack from a very scared critter in a very alien environment, it exhausted him and he fell back when he tried to use his broken leg to bound away from the crashing noisy monster in front of him.

I stumbled over backwards, banging my neck on the road post on the way down. I froze, and slowly bought my fingers to my face, it was numb and then suddenly in the darkness I felt a wetness flow and make my fingers sticky. I bought my hands up to my face but couldn't see anything in the darkness. I knew I was bleeding but didn't know where or how bad as I walked over to my car to retrieve a clean cloth. The cloth was light blue and as I pulled it away from my head I could see dark patches of wet liquid covering it and I could feel wetness dripping down my shirt and onto my sandals making my toes all squishy. By now the lady had arranged a vet to attend to euthanize the kangaroo which was so sad, a buck in his prime, so strong and proud even through his pain he sat up erect and tall, snorting and shaking his head every now and then in pain, a true magnificent creature. Never hurt a fly.

I walked back to her and checked that she had someone coming to her as we were a few miles from town and then I left to travel the 25 kilometres to my own home town.

I walked into the office where my husband was working with our youngest on his knee and he jumped up in disbelief when he saw me, herding me out to the car again as he bombarded me with question and snorted loudly that he would go and get retribution on whoever had done this to me.

On the way to the hospital I finally explained what had happened and as he bundled me up to emergency he looked at me with his serious face and said see dear.. That's what you get for being nice and helpful, you should be more of a bastard like me. I just laughed and told him that he would have stopped to.

So here is me, not even a week after my Kitty Kangaroo Dinner Ditty, sliced gapingly open to the cheekbone, parted down the forehead, stabbed with anti infection shots, snipped and sponged out with liquids which felt like a thousand needles, glued, stuck together clipped up and looking like I have done 10 seconds with Mike Tyson, (I wouldn't last a round, besides I like my ears.) swollen, bruised and totally alien looking to my children and afraid to venture outside in case I scare someone to death.

As the doctor was leaned over me snipping away at my wound and generally causing me a thousand times the pain of the original event curiousity got the better of him and he asked me how and what had happened-.. I just sighed and replied ....-.it was the Roo's revenge.

So to the Roos out there in the world, I am sorry for my article and telling the world how yummy and tasty you really are and totally overlooking your wonderful special soft warm loving gentle harmonious personality to the world. I am sorry I didn't further highlight your plight and how mankind has encroached onto your territory, how global warming is possibly causing the drought that is taking away your fertile feeding grounds making you feed closer and closer to the fertile inhabited areas. I am sorry I didn't tell the world how special you are. I am sorry I didn't tell the world about the magic of watching you in your natural environment, with floppy eared Joeys poking out of pouches, of strong males proud and tall and of all nature wonderments that you the Kangaroo hold within you. You are a true lesson for the human world and a creature to be treasured and I owe you an apology for which you gave me a sharp reminder of over the weekend.

Meanwhile as I am writing this final page, daughter number 2 enters the room, "Mum the cat just ate a lizard". I shudder, the world is one weird food chain and humanity as some funny ideas about what is "kosher"-..

*****

If you missed the first installment, you may want to read Australian Menu: Kitty Dinner, Not Kitty's Dinner [1]