From Gayle
The wombat was waiting on the doorstep. When the door was opened he ambled in, had a good look about then went outside again. A large pile of newspapers was rearranged with a lot of fuss and to do until the wombat was finally satisfied with his ‘make-do’ sleeping arrangements and submerged himself in the crumpled tower. The rather surprised human residents didn’t feel safe to leave the sanctuary of their house. We had domestic captives!
That’s how we (Jon and me) came to meet the HULK. We figured out even before we arrived at the hostage scene that the wombat was most likely hand reared and newly released. Oh yeah we’re really on the ball!
So I hopped out of the car with a blanket and started to make friendly wombat kind of noises to the newspaper pile. It awoke and moved. Then, like a submarine surfacing, the wombat came out. It was a little larger than expected! That’s ok thinks I, he’s hand reared!! The wombat was also a little faster than expected and before I could say “shield of flimsy blanket” I was under attack, serious attack.
The wombat got in two swift bites, one on shin and one on thigh, before I got into a the rhythm of desperate dancing. I think we confused the wombat into eventual capture. After a quick genital and general inspection, we lifted our hefty and well caged prize into the car and drove home somewhat confused ourselves about what we had actually caught.
Why had the wombat turned up at a house in the middle of wombat nowhere? Why had he been so aggressive? Why had he been so big in a flaccid kind of way? Why was he moving about in the middle of the day? Why didn’t he have a speck of dirt on him? And finally, why did he have baby pink feet? After all he must have weighed over 30kg. We were lead to the only feasible conclusion – DUMPED.
Hand raised as a house pet then dropped off on a roadside in the country when he got too big for the bean bag. Poor Hulk.
I’d like to say that Hulk settled right in as the first guest of out forest wombat enclosure – but he didn’t. He paced about in great agitation. He tore into the blankets we had offered for his comfort. He menaced the perimeter of the enclosure, made piggy squelching sounds and gave the strong impression of being quite insane. He was really distressed. We just hoped our enclosure could hold him!
An almost nearby shelter caught wind of our Hulk, came to investigate and we soon had an ID. Hulk was once upon a time called Lawrence and he was definitely him because he has some very distinctive white claws. But the mystery of Hulk only deepened.
Lawrence, was human raised from a small fella and grew up to be a fairly passive wombat who was constantly picked upon by his fellow wombat orphans. Despite these growing pains he grew to be a well rounded wombat who had been raised with a return to the wild as his ultimate destiny. He dug burrows, he ate grass, he lived apart from humans and he even made a wombat friend.
When he reached his 18th month, Lawrence and his friend were taken to good wombat country, with a resident human to keep a watchful eye on them, and they were released into the wild. Lawrence quickly disappeared and six months later he came back…as the Hulk. See what I mean by mystery? The only way that Hulk could have turned up with flaccid muscle tone, baby pink feet and not a speck of dirt, not a flea or a tick, on his good self, was to have been kept inside on a soft and clean surface.
Somebody had picked up Hulk for some reason (car accident?) and had taken him home! Was it a general member (public) or was it even a shelter? I guess we’ll never know.
Hulk did eventually settle down into his forest enclosure and although he dug a burrow, he generally preferred to sleep in a dog kennel. He ate well and that insane look he had about his whole being was slowly washed away with good dirt and a safe place.
