- Brinkley was devastated to hit a kangaroo during a road trip with her partner
- She was wracked with guilt that the kangaroo didn’t make it but its four-week old joey did
- An RSPCA volunteer, Brinkley was determined to take in the orphaned roo and raise it to health
- Before long, the kangaroo, named Bunji, was following Brinkley everywhere – they shared a bed, showered together and went on trips to beach
- Eventually, it was time for Bunji to join her kangaroo mob but she’d left her mark
- Brinkley Davies, from Ningaloo, WA, tells how Bunji inspired her to follow her dream of rescuing more creatures
My partner, Ty and I squinted as we drove along in our LandCruiser.
It was dusk, 2016, and we were off on a road trip after losing our beloved dog, Balu, who was tragically poisoned by a pest bait.
We thought a getaway would help heal our grief.
“The sun’s glare is so strong,” Ty said, slowing down the car.
Then, suddenly… bang!
“Did we hit a kangaroo?” I panicked.
Ty jumped out to investigate and returned with a tiny pink, furless joey, small enough to fit in my palm.
“The mum didn’t make it,” he said softly.
I’d always adored animals. I became an RSPCA volunteer in my teens before studying marine biology and going on to work on conservation projects all over Australia.
Now, while I knew this was a tragic accident, I was wracked with guilt as I put the four-week-old roo down my top to mimic its mum’s pouch.
“You’re going to be okay,” I promised it.
We headed home to care for her and I realised she’d escaped with just some little grazes. But after enduring such stress, she wasn’t out of the woods.
“She’s so young and fragile, the trauma may be too much for her to survive,” I worried.
I put warm milk made from a special formula into a bottle.
“C’mon, little one,” I urged as she latched on.
Staying up all night, I fed her every two hours.
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I converted a pillowcase into a mini pouch, put it down my top and pulled the opening up through the neck. The joey happily snuggled in and popped her head out when she wanted fresh air.
Days passed and my little orphan clung on to life.
I named her Bunji – an Indigenous name meaning a mate, a close friend and kinsman.
After losing Balu, she’d given me something to focus on.
Thankfully, Bunji thrived.
She guzzled her milk and slept in my bed at night so I could keep an eye on her.
During the day, she’d hang in her pouch on my chest and come with me to the clothes store where I worked part-time.
“She’s a miracle,” I told my colleagues, who were fascinated.
When Bunji was three months old, she’d grown a fine layer of fur and was increasingly curious, grabbing grass and shrubs with her paws and nibbling on them.
Wanting her to see the world, I bought a handbag she could fit inside. It had mesh windows she could peep out of, and straps so I could carry her on my back.
We’d go for walks to the beach and mosey around the backyard.
In time, she started tumbling out of her ‘pouch’ to take her first brave hops.
She’d follow me everywhere and paw at my legs when she wanted to hop back in.
Then I welcomed a new addition to my family – a maremma-cross puppy called Ohana.
She and Bunji adored each other. By now, Bunji had developed into a kooky roo; she loved the smell of my vegetable curry and scraped at my legs for morsels when I cooked it.
Bunji also loved taking a shower with me, and even once followed Ohana into the water at the beach and started swimming!
At 12 months old, Bunji had grown into a beautiful young kangaroo, and while I’d sacrificed a lot of time to raise her, I knew she needed to be with her mob.
It’ll break my heart but it’s time, I reasoned.
A sanctuary called Two Songs, owned by Linda and Bronte, agreed to take Bunji in.
Slowly, I began to introduce her to new surroundings, leaving her for a while until she’d make clicking noises – the natural signal for her mum – and then I’d go back.
Linda and Bronte quickly made Bunji feel at home.
“You visit anytime,” they told me when she was ready to stay for good.
Raising Bunji reignited my desire to start my own foundation and be a voice to help save marine and wildlife.
I called it the Balu Blue Foundation, and finally, in 2017, we hosted our first event – a beach clean-up in Port Lincoln, SA.
Visiting Bunji soon after, my heart burst when she heard my voice and came bounding over.
“I did it Bunji,” I said, as she cuddled me close.
As Balu Blue gathered momentum, more people got involved and I took on various projects, one being to help upgrade Two Songs Sanctuary and cover costs.
Then, when the bushfires hit at the end of 2019, we raised $500,000 to support smaller non-official charities and carers in desperate need of help to rescue affected wildlife.
Now, Balu Blue is in its sixth year.
Ty and I are no longer together, but I live with my partner of three years, Chippa, 36, Ohana, our other dog Rain and our rescue kitten, Manta.
As for Bunji, she’s happier than ever at Two Songs, and has even found a companion roo there called George.
Still our bond is unbreakable. No matter how long we’re apart, whenever I visit, my little girl hops over, presses her head into mine and grabs my hands for a hug.
Because of her, I’ve found my calling to fight for all animals and educate humankind to not turn a blind eye to them. Thank goodness I didn’t turn a blind eye to Bunji. She’s changed my life.
Saving Bunji, by Brinkley Davies, Affirm Press, out now.
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