May 3, 1913 
FOREST AND STREAM 
555 
A Kangaroo Hunt 
I WAS staying with a cousin in the northeast 
of Victoria a few months ago, in a very 
wild district, much of it practically untrod¬ 
den by man. It was formerly a district much 
favored by bushrangers, and there had been 
several deadly fights between them and the 
l)olice. My cousin owns a cattle station extend¬ 
ing to 30,000 acres. In addition, he leases from 
the Government another 30,000 acres of wild 
mountain country, abutting on his run. This 
mountain country is extremely rough, the ranges 
being covered with heavy timber, and a very 
thick undergrowth of brush. Naturally, it was 
the home of any amount of wild animals, includ¬ 
ing kangaroos, wallabies, emus and wombats, be¬ 
sides smaller fry. But so dense was the cover 
that it was hard to have a go at them. 
One fine spring morning my cousin said: 
“W'e’ir go out to the ranges to-day and camp 
all night. I have to inspect the water supply. 
We will take a couple of good dogs and see if we 
can get a kangaroo.” I was delighted, and was 
up early to make preparations. These were soon 
completed. We took a pack horse, as the ranges 
were impassable to wheeled traffic. The pack 
horse carried sufficient food, and a few cook¬ 
ing utensils. We took no tent, as the weather 
was warm, and we could soon knock up a shelter 
of branches. The most important points in our 
preparation were our horses. My cousin had a 
beautiful little black mare that was a perfect 
mountain pony. He gave me a very nice little 
chestnut. Both of these horses were small, but 
were as sure-footed as goats. Bred in the moun¬ 
tains, they had become adepts at clambering 
about their steep sides, and my pony was to 
show me feats that made my hair stand on end. 
We had a seventy-mile ride before we got to 
the mountains. We did not reach a camping 
place until about one, when the pack was un¬ 
loaded, the horses hobbled out, and the billy 
set to boil. It was an ideal spot, beside a pretty 
mountain spring that gurgled its way down a 
long valley. Already we had seen a few small 
kangaroos, called brush kangaroos, but we didn’t 
trouble about them, although our two dogs 
chased them until they got lost in the forest. 
A long whistle by my cousin, however, always 
brought them back. The two dogs, I may men¬ 
tion, were, first a sort of deerhound, and the 
second one a cross between a foxhound and a 
greyhound. The deerhound was very fast and 
strong, and equal to anything we would put up. 
After lunch we resumed our trip, and pres¬ 
ently came to the water supply that my cousin 
was to inspect. It was a wind-driven arrange¬ 
ment that drew the water up from a small lake 
formed by a spring, and then allowed it to run 
into two troughs. It was in fair order, but 
needed oiling and a little attention. By the time 
this was done, evening was drawing on, so we 
decided to pitch our camp at the spring. The 
night was beautifully fine, so we didn’t need 
any shelter. My cousin, with his tomahawk, 
cut down a supply of silky tea-tree, which he 
made into a couple of beds. A rug thrown over 
this made a very comfortable resting place. We 
had brought a gun, and at sunset I had some 
By AUSTRALIS 
good sport at Ijronze-wing pigeons which came 
to the spring to drink. I shot half a dozen, and 
my cousin soon had a couple plucked and broil¬ 
ing on the fire. We made a good meal, and 
soon after turned in to sleep. I was a good while 
going to sleep, owing to the strange bush noises, 
but my cousin was asleep almost as soon as he 
laid down. However, I followed his example 
eventually. He woke first, and nudged me sharp¬ 
ly, announcing that it was time to get up. It 
was just breaking day, and about 5 o’clock, and 
the birds were singing all around us. It didn’t 
take us long to make a fire, boil our billy and 
broil another couple of pigeons. Then my cousin 
caught the two horses. It was not quite six 
when, leaving the camp as it was, and the pack 
horse feeding quietly around it, we set off for 
the mountain, which reared its huge bulk just 
in front of us. “There are,” said my cousin, 
“some huge kangaroos on this range. They are 
called ‘foresters’ or ‘old man kangaroos,’ and 
some call them ‘boomers’.” 
The true forester is a huge animal, standing 
between six and seven feet high, very fleet, and 
very strong. Though not naturally savage, these 
kangaroos fight dearly for their lives and use 
their strong hind legs, and the long toes on 
them, to rip open their attackers. We rode on 
and up over shoulder after shoulder of the range 
until we were about 2,000 feet high. Then my 
cousin warned me how to behave. “Just sit 
your pony,” he remarked, “and he will look 
after himself. Do not check him, as he is sure 
of his feet wherever he goes.” He had just 
finished when the deerhound gave a long growl 
and bounded off. There the timber was not very 
thick, and peering through it, we saw a small 
mob, about a dozen of kangaroos, some of them 
very big. ‘'There are some foresters,” shouted 
my cousin; “come on,” and he leaned forward 
on his mare and shot off like an arrow. My 
pony, with very little persuasion, followed, and 
soon we were both galloping along the moun¬ 
tain side in full pursuit of our prey. The going 
as yet was not difficult, although once or twice 
I had to duck my head to avoid being knocked 
out of the saddle by an overhanging bough. I 
soon, however, imitated my cousin, who was 
lying along his horse’s neck, Indian fashion. The 
dogs were now among the flock, which scattered 
in all directions. My cousin kept his attention 
fixed on a very big male, that seemed to me to 
l)e at least ten feet high. This kangaroo was 
.speeding along at a terrific rate, bounding right 
over small bushes. The two dogs soon singled 
him out, encouraged by my cousin’s yells, and 
presently we were all on his track. He 
turned sharply to the left and made straight 
downhill, covering huge distances with every 
bound and crashing through the brush as if it 
were straw. My cousin followed and my horse 
took the same way. I have often wondered 
since how we got down. My pony jumped every¬ 
thing jumpable, and where it was too steep for 
him to gallop, he gathered his legs under him 
and just slid until he came to a firmer foothold. 
Once I must have slid fully thirty yards in this 
manner. But every time he found his feet so 
certainly that my heart, which had got up into 
my mouth, gradually resumed its normal posi¬ 
tion. Down we all went, and the uproar and 
crashing could be heard a mile away. Once my 
pony landed in a cluster of rabbit burrows, into 
which he sank knee deep, but he was out of them 
safely next moment. This downhill work suited 
the kangaroo, who soon got well away in front. 
AN AUSTRALIAN LAKE-NOTE THE REFLECTION. 
Photograph by Drummond Sharpe. 
