Meet Millie
After a night of shooting that wiped out her entire family, Millie found herself utterly alone. At just 2 kilograms, she should have been curled up in the safety of her Mumma’s pouch, suckling on her teat, drinking warm milk, and feeling protected from the harsh realities of the world. Instead, she was left to face those harsh realities head-on. She saw her Mumma’s lifeless body hanging on the back of a truck, alongside her entire family.
Thankfully, a kind neighbor had seen and heard the shooting unfold. They found Millie, but just in case her Mumma had somehow escaped, they decided to leave her and keep a close eye on her. When it became clear that her Mumma wasn’t coming back, they caught Millie, who by then was dehydrated, weak, and fading fast. They called Ranger Joe, who brought her to me the next day.
Poor Millie was lifeless, curled up at the bottom of a makeshift pouch. I bundled her up warmly and began the slow, careful process of rehydrating her. It took a few days, but eventually, she started to perk up, her curiosity about her surroundings returning. She was welcomed into the M Mob—Marnie, Maisie, Mia, Merci, and Micah. She adjusted beautifully, quickly bonding with Maisie. My life was busy, and my heart was full.
Then new neighbors moved in, and with them came motorbikes—everywhere. Round and round my property they rode, completely illegal and with no thought for the kangaroos. They knew the risks; I had told them. But still, their actions led to Millie suffering from myopathy, a stress-induced condition that can be fatal for kangaroos. It was yet another road to recovery for her.
As if that wasn’t enough, Millie was the last of the mob to suffer from Bordetella bronchiseptica, a respiratory infection, and her bub, Miki, was badly affected. Caring for them required intensive attention and was made even more difficult because Millie was free, and Miki was wild. But once again, Millie showed her resilience. With patience and care, she pulled through, as did Miki.
Millie grew into a doting Mumma herself. She had two beautiful girls, Miki and Mylah, and was always by their side. If other bubs had misplaced their Mums, they would join her, and she would care for them as if they were her own. She loved the pen, coming in with her girls, always nurturing and protective.
Last year, Millie had her first boy, Marco. He was an adventurous little soul, but heartbreakingly, he was one of the many who disappeared. Since then, Millie hasn’t been the same. I don’t see her with her girls anymore. She still comes into the pen from time to time, but she is alone and carries a sadness that’s hard to miss.
I think she has another bub in her pouch now, and I’m praying that this new life will help mend her broken heart. Millie’s story is yet another instance of a carer stepping in to pick up the pieces after a shooting—a reminder of the cruelty these animals endure and the resilience they show in the face of it. Millie’s strength and love inspire me every day.
My all time favourite photo of Millie one early misty morning