David Whitley stumbles upon a magical wildlife encounter in a part of Australia that many don’t bother to visit.
It’s that magical period of dusk where the moon is forming a perfect white circle in the sky, and the range of orangey pinks are layering stripes over the top of the water on the horizon. This would be pretty marvellous any evening; the massive 6.5 metre tide at Cape Hillsborough is on its way in, covering the bobbles made in the sand made by burrowing soldier crabs earlier in the day. Wedge Island provides a perfect backdrop, and the arm of the cape itself protects the almost unnatural glimmer of the beach.
But it’s not just any evening. I’ve got company. There are a few children still on the beach, plugging away with their buckets and spades, but it requires a double-take to realise that one of the outlines isn’t child-shaped.
We have been joined on the beach by a very special lady. One with a pouch and a very long tail. An eastern grey kangaroo has come to enjoy the sunset as well.
I start off observing from a distance. She sits still for a bit, then hops over to what she must regard as a much more exciting spot on the beach. I don’t want to scare her off, so I approach gradually.
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She seems remarkably unthreatened – I guess that comes from growing up near a holiday park full of families with young kids – and I find myself getting almost within touching distance.
She fidgets, trying to get a sandfly off her leg, but unperturbed by me. I move around to the side so that I’ve got the coloured sky and Wedge Island behind her. And then I just sit there on the sand, watching night come in.
She’s not exactly the ideal model – she has an uncanny habit of moving her head just as I think I’ve lined up the perfect photograph. But after a while, I put the camera away and just lie there entranced. To get so close to such a magnificent wild creature, one-on-one, for so long and in such an incredible setting is one of those memory of a lifetime moments.
And then she moves – not to hop away, not to go and investigate something more interesting, but to lie down on the sand less than a metre away from me.
It’s around 45 minutes before I can bring myself to leave. It’s almost totally dark. I turn round to see the children still absolutely focused on building their giant network of sand canals. Philistines.
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Fabulous! WA Tourism uses a photo of a roo on a beach that I always suspected was rigged, but here you’ve proved me wrong. Sounds like a magical encounter – thanks for sharing.