“Remembering Our Littlest Ones: Neonate Joeys Who Touched Our Hearts”

 Remembering Yasha, Jarli, Ariyah, Georgie, Gracie

In the quiet corners of Amaris Wildlife Sanctuary, where eucalyptus leaves rustle in the breeze, there lies a tender ache—a whisper of loss that echoes through the gum trees. Here, in this refuge of compassion, we honour the neonate kangaroo joeys whose lives were cut short, their tiny hearts beating only briefly against the vast canvas of the Australian wilderness.

They arrived, fragile and wide-eyed, some with eyes still closed, cradled in the arms of tragedy. Their mothers—guardians of pouches and protectors of innocence—had fallen victim to fate’s cruel hand. Perhaps it was a speeding car on a moonless night or the relentless encroachment of civilisation that silenced their maternal song. Whatever the cause, their absence left a void—a chasm of grief that stretched across the red earth.

And so, these joeys, barely the size of a human palm, found themselves orphaned. Imagine touching the petal of a delicate flower. A pinkie joey’s skin is similarly soft, almost translucent. Their skin feels like the promise of tomorrow—a promise that, with care, they might grow into the bounding kangaroos of the outback.

Or if furred, soft as the morning mist, cling to hope as they nestled into makeshift pouches, seeking solace in the scent of their surrogate Mummy’s

Beneath my fingertips, this pinkie joey radiates warmth. Their bodies seeking the heat they once found nestled against their mother’s belly.

When you hold a pinkie joey, you become their surrogate pouch. Your palms cradle their tiny form, offering protection.

Their eyes remain closed, their ears mere folds. They rely on touch and smell to navigate their world—a world that suddenly lacks the heartbeat they knew.

The sanctuary became their haven—a place where compassion stitched together the frayed edges of their disrupted lives.

My heart shatters, as I imagine their vulnerability—their eyes searching for a mother’s gaze that would never return. I wonder if they dreamt of hopping through sun-dappled grass, of nibbling on tender shoots, or of the rhythmic thump of a kangaroo’s heartbeat. Did they long for the warmth of a pouch, the gentle sway as their surrogate carried them through the day?

But life is fleeting, and sometimes fate weaves a bittersweet tapestry. The neonate joeys, too small to comprehend loss, left their earthly haven.

Yet their memory lingers—a constellation of love stitched into the fabric of time. We honour them, these tiny souls who touched our lives, and we pledge to protect their kin.

Questions swirl like a tempest in my mind. Why? Why must such innocence suffer? Why does nature’s balance sometimes tip toward cruelty? Yet, even as despair threatens to engulf me, I remember: I can’t give up. There are more out there—more joeys, more souls yearning for a second chance.

Amaris—the name itself whispers hope. It means “promised by God”  or “promise of hope,” a promise that darkness will yield to dawn. And so, we press on. We cradle these tiny lives, bottle-feeding them with love, tending to their fragile bodies, and murmuring lullabies under the Southern Cross. We become their moonlight, their constancy—the warmth they seek in the chill of abandonment.

In the quiet hours, when the sanctuary sleeps, I imagine their spirits dancing among the stars. Perhaps they find solace there, reunited with their mothers in a giant embrace. And I, too, find solace—in the resilience of these neonate joeys, in the tireless dedication of volunteers who carry them forward.

For every life cut short, there is a legacy—a ripple that extends beyond the confines of mortality. So, dear joeys, know this: Your brief existence mattered. You were not lost in vain. Your absence fuels our determination to protect those who still bound across the red earth, their tails like exclamation marks against the sky.

And as the sun rises over Amaris, casting golden hues upon the eucalyptus leaves, we pledge to be your voice. We’ll fight for the warmth and comfort you deserved - a home etched not only in the sanctuary’s walls but in the collective heartbeat of all who care.

Rest well, little ones. Your legacy leaps onward, carried by the wind, whispered by the stars. 🌿🌏🦘

Gracie

Ariyah

Georgie

Yasha


Remember, these little ones need our help. If you ever encounter a pinkie joey, please reach out to experienced wildlife carers. They can provide the warmth, nourishment, and care these fragile beings require to thrive. 🦘💕