I had my own television show, which was sold in 128 countries, and I never once said a word.
I boxed Woody Allen, and I probably won on points.
I am generally loved throughout the world, and yet when first discovered, I was described as a monstrous beast.
I can comfortably travel at 40 km per hour over about two kilometres, and would have beaten Usain Bolt to gold.
The French writer Jules Renard described me as a giant flea (puce géante).
Who am I? Any ideas?
There are even more interesting things I can tell you about myself. For example, I am literally born twice. I know that sounds a bit pretentious, as if I have a place among the miracles of your Jesus. If you are sceptical, here’s the proof from the BBC:
Now do you believe me? I know you humans find it pretty unbelievable. I am first born a tiny embryo. My powerful jumping legs are not formed, yet I climb up through my mother’s forest of fur into her pouch (that you all find so wonderful) and latch onto her teat. Nine months later I make a second entrance.
My mother is also pretty amazing. She’s developed this trick over the years called embryonic diapause which basically means she can stop her pregnancy if there is not enough food. When the rains and grass (mon plat du jour préféré) return she restarts the development of the embryo. Kangaroo mums often have three young at varying stages of development: a joey (baby) at foot, a pouched young and a dormant embryo in the uterus. Next time you complain about motherhood just remember that the female kangaroo can be permanently pregnant.
When you Europeans first ‘discovered us’, we freaked you out completely. My favourite description comes from a Dutch captain, “ …amongst these big trees was found a monstrous beast, with the head of a fox, the hands of a man, the tail of a monkey, and that wonderful provision of nature, a bag in which to carry its young.”
Luckily, the captain never met my ancestor the Procoptodon who died out about the time the first humans arrived. He could grow up to 2.5 metres tall and weigh about 250 kgs.
Our survival feat was accidental. You found us cute, bizarre and, thankfully, relatively non-threatening. Sure, we got boomerangs thrown at us now and again and some members of my family have ended up as the plat du jour for your house animals. But luckily, you didn’t want to devour us on an industrial scale (although we are said to be quite nutritional and tasty). Instead, you have developed a fluffy toy relationship with us. It defies logic. We chew grass with the accursed sheep and cattle and often wonder why it’s them and not us that end up on your plate. There is not really a shortage of us, and we are much more adapted to this dry continent.
Our carnivorous friends, the dingo (almost extinct) and the Tasmanian Tiger (extinct - see photo below) didn’t fare so well. At first, they thought you Europeans were Father Christmas in disguise. You stocked the land with tasty food. Every day was a feast of lamb (sheep). But that didn’t last long, and we don’t see our friends much anymore. It’s better to be a herbivore when you aggressive humans are in control.
In fact, your species seem to revel in violence. Even that weedy New York funny man, Woody Allen wanted to fight my great grandfather. I reckon great grand-dad beat him fair and square.
Meet a kangaroo: The Language House organises language travel (les séjours linguistiques) in Australia. You can choose from 11 destinations, including Sydney, Melbourne, Perth, Brisbane and smaller towns by the sea (great for surfing) and close to magnificent tropical forests. Find out more about our English schools, work opportunities and visas for Australia
One day we will get to Geneva. And we are not interested in hopping around your water fountain, although your flower clock looks quite tasty. We have urgent work at World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO). You have turned us into a marsupial cash cow. We now want our cut from your incessant exploitation; national symbols, B grade films, fluffy toys, coats of arms, the t-shirts, hats, jackets, key rings, tea towels, the logos, television shows, delivery companies, airlines and utterly unforgivable and terrible terrible abuse of our bodies.
Our lawyers tell us: c’est dans la poche.
Hop, hop! kangaroos of the world!