Kangaroos in Blackheath: Week 117

Kangaroos copy


Barret and I were camping with a group of friends outside the rural town of Blackheath. While I had been in no rush to leave my down-stuffed cocoon on such a cold morning, this unexpected announcement sent me jumping into action.

Oh my god! KANGAROOS? Really?




With the camera in one hand, Barret hastily tried to zip the tent back up. When the zipper caught on a rain flap he gave up and ran off. I fixed the snag and then changed into my warmest clothes before meeting him near the edge of camp. The grass underfoot was damp from a fog that had moved in overnight.

“Did you know that kangaroos have three vaginas?” Barret asked as we tiptoed through a field of small saplings.

“What?! You’re lying.”


“That’s seems a bit excessive.”

“They have two uteruses too.” Barret paused to let the math sink in.

I already knew that kangaroos were capable of producing different kinds of breast milk at the same time for babies in different stages of development, but I had never factored multiple vaginas into that quick turnover formula.

“How does that even work?” For some reason I thought about bowling balls.

Barret looked like a naughty school boy who had just shared information gleaned from his big brother. “I have no idea!”

We were both wiser yet completely in the dark.

About: the marsupial reproductive system

How to get to Blackheath: Blue Mountain Line train from Central Station

Cape Reinga: Week 54

It was our first time testing our campervan equipment and we had driven all the way north to Cape Reinga, through hours of farms and vegetable stands run on the honesty system. Despite a misty rain we were excited about our beachfront location and we began cooking under the protection of our hatchback door.

“Does the gas cooker work?”


“And the gas tank?”


We felt like smart investors, taking pride in our portfolio while others juggled with lemons.

“Did you hear about that couple in front of us? They have a mouse living in their car!”

When the sun disappeared we jumped inside our van and eased under the cool sheets, ready to fall asleep to the hypnotizing sound of waves.

Bzzzz. Bbbbzzzzzz.

“Barret, I think a mosquito got in here.”

With a quick push of the thumb Barret cast a light on the ceiling. I grabbed a book and with a swoosh our intruder was decimated by literacy.

“Got it!”

Just before turning off the light we noticed small shadows vibrating around the perimeter of the beam. Barret’s cursory surveillance revealed that our guest had not arrived alone. Between a week of rainy weather and open doors, a cloud of mosquitoes had materialized in our car. Of course the only things missing from our arsenal were mosquito nets and bug repellent. My heart hit the floor when I realized the fight we faced for a good night’s sleep.

Thumpp. Thumpp. Piing. Bang. Piiing. Thumpp.

Our killing spree lasted three hours. At the end our ceiling and curtains were smeared with powdery black corpses and blood. Exhausted yet triumphant, we were finally able to turn off the light and go to sleep.

Bzzzz. Bbbbzzzzzz. Bbbbzzzzbbbzzzzz.

Oh no.

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