The one I had was a North West Red, and he eventually stood over 6 feet tall, on his tippy toes.
Not much of a story to tell about him, really.
I was on the "ranch" (station, or "pastoral Station, as we call them) (ours was 1 million acres...) and was out checking windmills, and while screaming down one of our tracks, a roo charged out from the side, and I clobbered it. It stumbled away, and I saw it eject a Joey from it's pouch. The joey was quite small, and mum was done for, so I chased joey and bundled it into a chaff bag I had on the back, and put him in the cab.
When I got home, I handed the wife my chaff bag, and said, "here. I got you a pressy". She was a city girl, and had never seen a roo up close, let alone a cute joey.
It takes a few days for them to start feeding from a bottle, but once they get the hang of it, all goes well. As he got older, he spent less and less time in the "pouch", an old pillow case hung of a chair, or a door knob. He had the run of the yard, and came inside to sleep with my German Sheperd at night. He loved peanuts, and eventually used to follow the wife around, up to the main house, and down around the cattle yards.
When we moved back to the city, we took him with us, as we were renting a house on a small vineyard, with good fences. We stayed there for nearly 2 years, during which I had to castrate him, as he was getting his seed, as was starting to get aggressive. (Simply use a castrating ring, designed for sheep) He settled down again after that, and was eventually homed at a bird santuary a couple hours north of Perth. We saw him again a few year later, and supringly, we think he recognised us. He was trying to get his head and hands into my pockets, which he used to do, to get a feed of peanuts from me. The santury wouldn't feed him peanuts because they were supposed to be bad for him.
They eats nuts and stuff in the wild, so I couldn't see the problem. We was named Casserole.
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