As I mentioned last diary entry, I do indeed have another story. After Lazarus died, I was looking forward to a few days’ recovery, and in particular catching up on sleep…but this was not to be.
The very next morning, the lady from whom I buy roo milk rang me while I was having breakfast quite concerned about a lady from up my way who had been in touch with her about her joey. They were both assuming it was a grey kangaroo joey, and that it was very small. She was having difficulty feeding it, and keeping it warm. The lady with the joey didn’t want to hand it in to any wildlife care groups, because she had been told they “bong the little greys on the head”. I assured her that our group didn’t do this, although I know of other groups that do, because of the drought, and the fact that there is a shortage of release sites for the greys. I told her we take each joey on its merits, and obviously, if it is very ill, or badly injured, what else can you do? She said, may I give this lady your number so you can try to talk her through the joey’s problems? I said yes, and hoped I could get my breakfast finished first. As it happened, I had just finished my porridge, and the phone rang again. It was the lady with the joey.
She was in a panic. She had just tried to feed the joey, and it had started sneezing, so she thought pneumonia! She BEGGED me to take it! I thought this is a bit different from being worried I would bong it on the head…. I found out her address, and she gave me directions to her place, but she confused me utterly, as by the time she was finished she was telling me she lived on both the right and left hand side of the road, so rather than get her to give me directions again, I just looked at a map. I had the street and number, so I’d manage. It turned out she lived about an hour from me. Then I rang a friend, in the forlorn hope (seeing she lived MUCH closer) that she might be able to pick it up, and get it to the vets. As it happened she was just about to go out. This lady lived about 15 mins from her, so she said, I’ll pick it up, then take it to the vets, then do the stuff I need to do, and ring you, and we can meet halfway. Sounded good to me!
She rang me a while later and said she had picked up the joey. The lady had been attempting to feed it when she got there, she said, but with a human baby teat, and it wouldn’t fit in the joeys mouth (joeys’ mouths are a much different shape to human babies). No wonder it was sneezing she said, the milk probably got up his nose! But she took the joey and left after thanking the lady for handing it on, and assuring her it would get the best of care, and left quickly before the lady changed her mind. She said, it seems fine to me, but hungry, so I didn’t take it to the vet.
We arranged our meeting place, and I met her there. She handed him to me, and as soon as I peeked inside the pouch, I heard a familiar hissing sound. I looked closer….and there was….not a little grey kangaroo, but a tiny wallaroo…just furred, but feisty nonetheless. I settled him down for the trip home, and he hissed and swore all the way, and kept trying to climb out of the pouch. Just before I got home, I had to stop at a shop and grab a few things, but took him in with me, as I had visions of him falling out of the pouch, and landing on the floor in the cold, in my absence! Of course the shop keeper wanted a peek at him, and got hissed at for his trouble. The first thing I did when I got home was prepare him some milk; he seemed really hungry. He drank really well, every drop he was offered for that feed, and settled a bit better. I put him on three hourly feeds that first day, and he was VERY co-operative!
The next day he wanted his bottle, but couldn’t cope with it, and developed the trots. I knew straight away the trauma of losing mum, and being fed incorrectly, had caught up with him, and he had thrush. So off I went to the chemist and got the required medication, which he took happily. It took a couple of days before it got things under control, and I just had to persevere with him drinking poorly, and having the trots, and because of his milk being diluted….doing lots of weeing….so I called him Clancy of the Overflow.
He then started to come good…the trots started to get better, and he started to enjoy his bottles. I was able to stretch out the intervals between, as he was taking a bigger amount at each feed. He is still swearing at all and sundry…in fact the first time Nolan wanted to check him out, he hissed at him! Both Nolan and Gypsy backed off quick smart! Both of them would remember Hell Joey, and they probably realised that this is his cousin!
By now, he is back on full strength roo milk appropriate to his size, and things are starting to look up a bit. He is still feisty and bossy, but he loves a cuddle. After a feed, he likes to sit on my knee until he drops off to sleep. He has lost a bit of condition because of his problems, and hasn’t got a lot of meat on his bones, so I’m keeping him on a heating pad till he’s a bit bigger and stronger. He’s still tiny, and has a long way to go, but hopefully I will soon be able to hand him onto his next carer, and then hear of his eventual release.
Mamaroo's Diary 