How not to save a Kangaroo and a Garden Update

Woke up at 6am this morning, swear it was already 25 degrees outside. Sun, still - no breeze. Rolled straight out of bed and into beach dress, totally forgot about being hungover (drinks yesterday afternoon by beach) - and rolled down to Tallow. Warm, warm, warm - feeling bones defrost and spirit awaken. Cannot help but being intensely happy when walking there - and now am sounding like a "Tourism Australia" ad. Did not bring camera, but found these lovely pics hubby took a couple of months ago (he is, in his own opinion, the far superior photographer out of the two of us, also his camera way better than mine, etcetera) :

Tallow Beach:

Hubby is doing Wildlife Rescue Course in Lismore this weekend. This means he will be called out whenever local wildlife finds itself in precarious situations - such as birds having smashed into windows, snakes having entered homes and wound themselves around plumbing, or various types of wildlife having been hit by cars.

I heard a story about the latter which I very helpfully told hubby about yesterday, in preparation of him becoming rescue-volunteer.
A friend encountered kangaroo, or could have been wallaby (memory not what should be, possibly due to too much beer throughout life) - which had been hit by car and seemed to have a broken leg, but otherwise was in pretty good condition. Friend called Wildlife Rescue Service. Volunteers arrive, in the form of two elderly ladies. Ladies explain that kangaroo / wallaby can not be successfully rehabilitated, is better to end things cleanly so it does not suffer. My friend starts to feel a little uncomfortable, thinking they should have just left the animal to its own devices. But, what to do other than accept the news - the animal is injured and will die. Fair enough. Then these ladies explain that they do not take all animals to vet for a lethal shot - for some reason or other bla bla bla. They thus proceed to grab a sledgehammer out of the back of car, and start whacking the thing over the head. It does not die. There is blood, there is tears - my friend is traumatised for life.

In the end, the animal must have died. What an awful, awful story. Hope hubby does not have to be that sort of volunteer.

Must end on a more positive note, so here is a little Garden Update!

Finally, this is what we like to see!