Meet KRoo and JoJo
In December 2016, just after I had faced the heartbreaking farewell of Roobee, I swore to myself: No more. This is too hard. My heart can’t take it. But as life often does, it had other plans. The phone rang, and on the other end, someone explained that a shooter had gone out the night before and had brought home two joeys. They needed a safe place—would I take them? They had seen an article in the paper after RooBee’s rescue.
My heart skipped a beat, tears welling up at the thought of these defenseless babies who had just lost their mothers. Without hesitation, I said, “Where are you?”
When I arrived, I found the two joeys tied up in pillowcases. The bigger one was angry, understandably so, and wouldn’t let me near her for days. At the time, I was still new to wildlife care, without much of a network to lean on. It was a bit of a hit-and-miss process, but I did the best I could. I named the older, feisty girl KRoo and the smaller, gentler one JoJo.
They quickly bonded and became such precious little girls. But as much as I loved having them, my place wasn’t equipped for bigger joeys. Once they reached 5 kilograms, they moved to another sanctuary that was better suited for their needs and eventual release.
I was lucky enough to visit them a few times after they moved, though I now realise those visits were more for me than for them. KRoo and JoJo had found a new home, a new family, and a mob of siblings to join. They didn’t need me anymore—and that’s exactly what we hope for as wildlife carers.
I don’t have any updates on them now. I simply pray they’re out there, thriving with their mob, living the wild lives they were born for—maybe even with Sammie Jo. It’s a tough road, this work we do. You pour every ounce of love and care into them, knowing you’ll have to let go. But that’s the goal: to raise them, love them, and then set them free.
Meet Roobee HERE
The devastating impact of shooters goes far beyond the immediate loss of wildlife; it leaves behind an aftermath of orphaned joeys, terrified and vulnerable, clinging to a fragile thread of survival. These defenseless beings, torn from their mothers and their natural lives, become the "leftovers" of this harsh reality. As wildlife carers, we step in to mend the pieces, nurturing them with love and care, but the shadow of this human intervention lingers, a stark reminder of the cost to our wildlife.