"Anything that attacks my children ...which they are while they are in my care... has attacked me...”

My dear friends,

I am Kangaroo Jack, and I am a tenant in the country of the Gunggari Nation.

I care for the sacred Marlu, and my hands are guided in care by the Earth Mother in the place of the Emu Dreaming.

I honour and thank the elders of all the First Nations, past, present and those beginning their journey on the path to leadership. I hold the staff Gaia, a gift from the Earth Mother who guides my hand in caring for her children.

In July last year Heather and I lost six of our beautiful babies at the hands of a dog which had no right to be in town. I’d been away the night before and slept late. When I got up Heather came up to me and said “there’s not one joey alive in the outside pen”.

My mate Phil came over and helped me load the bodies of six joeys into my trailer and take them to what I call the sunrise place. It’s a hill about 5 km out of town where the sun hits first at the beginning of every day, and I’ve always thought of it as a place where the joeys can celebrate the new day in their tiny groups.

If a joey dies in the wild the mob moves on. His or her mother grieves at the loss of her baby but in the second half of the next year she will have another one, and life will move on for her and the mob.

Here at Warrego wildlife it’s completely different. Joey’s move in and out, in from carers and road accidents even shooters, and when they’re about 25 kg they start sniffing the breeze, planning their exit and their joining of the North mob, about 60 greys who live within about 3 km of our village.

I can’t think back to that night without tears. That might seem strange for an adult white bloke, but after months in some cases years, of holding cuddling sniffing touching, each joey becomes an individual. Each one has his or her own capacity to do interesting things. Little Henry, he’s been with me three weeks and is already started putting on weight, and this evening for the first time he stood up for his bottle. He is getting far too big to be picked up and cuddled, being fed like a three-month-old human baby. No, Henry is becoming quite the fine young man. I can almost hear him saying “no no I’m a big boy now”, as I reached down to pick him up.

And Nipper, 3.5 kg already wanting to go outside every morning and every evening and have his mad run.

Every one of these kids is different. Just the same as it was with the six that we lost. Six little individuals each with their own story. Gone. In less than 10 minutes.

It took me days to talk about. Apart from not having anybody here to talk to apart from Heather, what do I say? “My Joey’s were killed by a dog”. Around here few people would care. To farmers they’re feral. Pests. Fit Only for Dog Food. Fifty cents a kilogram. I’ve been told that people in the city are starting to eat Kangaroo. If they knew how they were slaughtered I bet they wouldn’t.

I’ve always felt myself to be something of a loner. Coming out here to care for joeys in the middle of the outback where even the nine-year-old kids go out on Saturday night shooting them. What hope did I have of changing minds? To these worn-out country men, we were an enigma. City people moving 700 km to care for a pest.

When we first talked about this fence, I really thought of it as a pipedream. Something that maybe one-day will happen, but I wouldn’t be holding my breath. Then Derek and Michelle, Nyree and the team talking about helping us to build the fence. I remember thinking what a great idea but how could we ever do it with an average weekly income of 2 to $300.

The other part of it I found it challenging to think that I needed to put up a wall to keep something out that shouldn’t have been there in the first place. And moved on with my life.

Not one of any of you donors have one single solitary iota of understanding of what good this means to me. It doesn’t matter how many speeches of thanks that I’ve read, none encompass the need to try and clarify in your mind what you have done.

See, you haven’t just changed my life. You haven’t just changed Heather’s life. You have changed countless lives. Every time a new joey is put on the ground inside the fence, that life has changed. The little fury that will begin its mad running the next morning, will be safe. He or she won’t be able to run on the road and be hit by a car because he or she will be behind a six-foot barrier that the best trained hunting dog will not be able to come over.

So my dear friends this is my heartfelt thanks on behalf of my tiny furry babies, who whilst they quite happily communicate with me, are unable to put their words into concise English. From Henry, from Nipper, from Sapphire and Halo, from Girrawen and Joe, from Andy and Jinks, thank you for all you have done for us. Thank you.

And if you happen to be drifting around the outback and find yourself in need of a damn good cup of coffee, you’ll find our little coffee cart 15 km west of Mungallala on the Warrego Highway from 6 AM till 9, 5 days a week. You can find us on Facebook at Warrego wildlife. Make yourself known and you’re always welcome.

Kangaroo Jack