This afternoon has been interesting! Dad asked me to walk up the back of the property and check the fence for holes, because he can't work out why wallabies keep coming in (apparently it's nothing to do with the south side of the property not having a fence, me and my whacky ideas ;3) adding that if I saw any holes, to take photos and note down the location for him. I said "Sure." but at this time my phone was flat, so I waited for it to charge some.
About ten minutes later dad drives the tractor into the yard; it's got a mix of grass killer on the back, and he proceeds spraying the driveway with a hose attachment etc. Ok, that's fine. I absentmindedly start eating a chocolate bar and just watch a bit until my phone's charge is at a reasonable level. My obsessive eating pays off, and I see dad finish spraying the driveway, and start spraying the surrounding garden: man ferns, lavender, daffodils, fuchsias, cherry trees etc. Ok. Um. Dad moves the tractor further around the yard so he can access the middle. He sprays the lilies, the rose garden, and the birdbath. Ooook. I low-key follow him from inside the house, around to the far end of the garden where he sprays some bottlebrushes, and the bee boxes. Ooooooookay.
I finish the chocolate bar, grab my stuff and start walking up to the back fence, detouring past the back of the yard and dad. I call out to him (cheerfully) "What're you spraying?" and he starts and looks up.
"Grass?"
"With what?" (still cheerful)
"With [brand name of hardcore plant killer]."
"Oh. Ok."
And I keep walking. I get up the hill; it's a total bog from wallaby foot traffic all along the fence. So it was very safe to say that there are no holes in the fence, and that the wallabies that entered from the southern side just couldn't find their way out and had decided to live up here in the small block of bush. I guessed maybe ten...there were a lot of tracks but I put this down to them moving up and down the fence multiple times, it's a very common thing. I keep walking, and by walking I mean strategically slip-and-sliding in a forward direction while remaining upright, and for some reason I decide to clap my hands...just to shoo them out and maybe get an idea of a head count.
The noise. Cracks and swooshes and thumping just filled the air and at least fifty wallabies just bounded out chaotically in all directions, some heading towards me, some bouncing down into the bush and paddock. Freaking everywhere. It was hilarious.
So I slip up the track some more, still clapping, and there's wallabies left right and centre. MORE WALLABIES APPEAR. MORE. They're leaping out of the scrub next to me, flying down the hill, slipping about in the mud like it's a rave party. Eventually I remembered to take a few pictures of the more visible ones, and called up dad with the information.
[[makes pizza dough only to realise there's frozen ones in the fridge, makes focaccia instead. Makes steamed vegetables, has to throw half of them out and start again because they're not peeled, silly me]]
SO, to cut an already long story short; wallaby massacre ensues. Dinner making ensues. Dad leaves a mess of foods everywhere (because I'm not making dinner fast enough) and for some reason I overestimate the strength of a plastic bread bag and now there's fruit bread everywhere. *sigh*
Edit: wow it's even in the lounge room and I VACUUMED TODAY ARGHHH AND THERE ARE VISITORS COming to stay this week. -___-
