Meeting a kangaroo isn't like looking at an animal in a zoo - it's an encounter with a creature literally hopping with personality. Australia seems filled not with animals, but with species radically different to homo sapiens who have the individuality, intelligence and bounce of a Narnian character.
I was expecting an arid country, but instead found a Lewis Carroll world of gleaming and swirling trees where life flourished.
Black swans, dingos, koalas...
An irresistible wombat...
And hills over which red parrots soar.
This is a winter morning in the Barossa. Sharp skies and primary colours.
You may have heard of this babbling brook, known locally as Jacob's Creek.
It's a nation defined by expanse. Miles of sea stretch out to Antarctica from Adelaide's pier.
And almost as great a distance of apparent emptiness rolls out from Alice Springs in ever direction.
But this is land which changes like a symphony. Red dirt flashes into purples and yellows. Green scrub shoots up and camels and wild horses cross your path.
And everywhere there are works of epic sculpture.
It is like exploring Mars, but with clear, sweet air.
And as far as I know, it is not possible to find a piano-playing dingo on the red planet. But you can in the Red Centre.
And from the bed of a dry river in this scorched land comes something which somehow refreshes the soul. It's another side of the world.
1 comments:
"...it's an encounter with a creature literally hopping with personality."
But enough about you, Dave, what was the kangaroo like?
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