Indie Roo

Photo of Indie Roo when Charlie was four months old; growing in her pouch.

Indie was always a mumma’s girl.

From the very beginning, she and I shared something special. She wanted closeness, comfort, connection… and she gave it back just as deeply. Every bit of love I felt for Indie seemed to come back to me tenfold.

It became a bit of a running joke in our house how little interest she had in my husband, Paul. Indie knew exactly who her person was. Even as a young joey, she was a nurturer. She fussed over Maxie constantly, watching over him while he slept, gently playing with his ears when she was ready for him to wake. It was in her nature to care.

Indie groomed Max every chance she got. If he wasn’t nearby, she would happily turn her attention to me instead. Being groomed by a kangaroo isn’t exactly delicate work… but it’s hard to complain when it’s coming from a place of affection.

As they grew, everything began to shift.

By the time Max and Indie were around 14 months old, both weighing over 10 kilos (22 lbs), they were considered “predator-proof.” Big enough to avoid most threats, and aware enough to run if needed. It was time for them to begin stepping into the wild world around them. That was a big moment. For them, and for me.

I set up their nursery so they could come and go, leaving the door just open enough for them, but not for anything larger. We installed wildlife cameras outside so I could see what they were doing overnight. I won’t pretend I handled it without worry. Those first nights were hard. I knew they were ready, but knowing something and feeling it are two very different things. Sleep didn’t come easily.

But then…

Seeing them out there, cautiously interacting with the wild kangaroos, learning their language, finding their place… that was extraordinary.

They would go to bed around 10pm after their late bottle, sleep for a few hours, then head out into the night. By morning, they were back in their nursery again, curled up snugly.

I placed a pet bed just outside my bedroom window, thinking they might use it occasionally. Within a week, it became their favourite spot and they stopped coming back into the nursery. They had reached their next phase of development.

Their routine settled into something beautiful. They would sleep there from 10pm until midnight, then head out to explore with the other roos, before returning by morning. There is nothing quite like waking up and seeing your kangaroo kids outside your window, playing their version of slap-slappity-slap as the sun comes up.

I’d open the door, and they would march straight through my bedroom into the kitchen, eager to supervise the bottle-making process.

We’d head out to the veranda, and I’d sit with them as they drank, asking them what they’d been up to overnight. I so wished I could understand their answers (I knew they understood my questions).

As time went on, Max began spending more and more time with the wild boys. Young males are drawn to sparring, and Max was no exception. He was eager, enthusiastic, and quite fearless. Watching them work together was fascinating. The way they tested each other, adjusted, learned, it looked like they were coaching one another.

Eventually, Max formed a close bond with another young male I named Rosco. Many mornings, I’d find them sparring together in the early light.

Even as Max found his place among the wild ones, he never drifted far from Indie.

When the mob moved off into the bush, Max and Indie would often stay behind, choosing the comfort of home. You’d find them stretched out on the veranda, on their beds or the patio sofa, always close to one another.

Growing up didn’t mean growing apart.