Every time you hear sto­ries of what the Amer­i­cans know about Aus­tralia, it’s always sug­gest­ed that they think kan­ga­roos hop down the main street (just think about that Simp­sons episode… “I see you’ve played knifey-spooney before!”). I grew up in New­cas­tle, and found the idea of kan­ga­roos liv­ing among us pret­ty hilar­i­ous – I think I saw one wild kan­ga­roo once, up in the moun­tains, and we lived right next to the bush.

How­ev­er, when I moved to Can­ber­ra, my whole per­cep­tion of Aussie fau­na changed when I locked up the brakes on my old Dat­to to avoid a huge kan­ga­roo cross­ing the road in front of me on the main road in Bruce. A girl at work recalls watch­ing in amaze­ment as traf­fic was brought to a crawl as a kan­ga­roo hopped down North­bourne Ave. It topped it off for me just the oth­er week walk­ing home from work I passed a graz­ing kan­ga­roo in Haig Park, Braddon.

So there you go… there is at least one cliché about us Aussies that may resem­ble the truth. For some rea­son this reminds me of a joke I loved when I was a kid:

What are jel­ly babies most afraid of? Jel­ly dingoes.