Feral me

Just in case you are not yet convinced that I was indeed once half-wild, here is a photo of me taken during a night of trapping in far North Queensland. I’m holding the pouch-young of a Sharman’s Rock-wallaby, and looking like I came out of the trap with it. I don’t know whether my face is covered with pimples, owing to the total lack of any sort of face-cleansing regime during trips, with all their dirt and humidity, or covered with insect bites, owing to the plethora of tropical insects, including about ten times their fair share of mosquitoes. Anyway, that is me a la’ naturale and then some. I’ve got no secrets left! But how sweet is that creature? Rock-wallaby pouch-young at this stage of development made being on the side of the sort of hill on which rock-wallabies lived at 3 am, laden down with gear, worth the while. They’d look up at me from inside the pouch with their large dark eyes, so soft and velvety and so exquisitely formed. I’d just want to hold them and look at them for a while - before attempting the difficult part, which was stuffing them back in.