A story
Bindi the Kangaroo Joey Takes Her First Big Hops
Bindi was a little kangaroo joey with soft brown fur, long pointy ears, and a black nose that twitched whenever she smelled something new. She lived with her mother in a wide, sunny land of red earth, tall gum trees, and golden grass that swished in the wind.
For a long time, Bindi had lived inside her mother's pouch. It was the coziest place in the whole world. It was warm and soft and smelled of her mother. From there, she could peek out at everything while her mother hopped across the plains.
Boing, boing, boing, went her mother. And Bindi bounced gently along inside, safe and snug.
But Bindi was growing bigger. Her legs were getting longer. Her tail was getting thicker. And lately, when she curled up in the pouch, her feet stuck out of the top, and her ears tickled her mother's chin.
"Bindi," said her mother one morning, "you are getting big. It is time for you to start hopping on your own."
Bindi peeked out at the ground. It looked very far away. "But I like the pouch," she said. "In the pouch, I can go fast without trying. In the pouch, I never fall down."
Her mother nuzzled her ears. "You can always come back to the pouch when you are tired. But today, let us try a little hop."
So Bindi climbed out, very slowly. She stood on the red earth on her two long back feet. Her legs felt wobbly, like jelly. Her tail swayed behind her.
Nearby, some older joeys were playing. There was Wally, who could hop over a log, and the twins, Tess and Bo, who could hop so fast they looked like brown streaks across the grass.
Bindi wanted to hop like that. She bent her knees. She took a big breath. She jumped.
Boing!
She went up. She came down. And then she tipped over sideways and landed in a soft tuft of grass with her feet in the air.
The twins giggled, but not unkindly. Wally hopped over to help her up.
"Everybody falls at first," he said. "I fell so many times that my mother called me Tumbleweed."
Bindi tried again. Boing! This time, she landed on her feet, but then she wobbled forward and bumped her nose on the ground.
She sat back on her tail and rubbed her nose with her paw. "I cannot do it," she said. "Kangaroos are supposed to hop. But I just fall."
Her mother sat down beside her. "Do you know how I learned to hop?" she asked.
Bindi shook her head.
"My mother told me a secret," said her mother. "She said, do not try to hop like the big kangaroos. Hop like yourself. One little hop at a time. And use your tail."
"My tail?" said Bindi. She looked at her long, thick tail lying on the grass behind her.
"Your tail is like a third leg," said her mother. "When you land, let your tail touch the ground. It will help you balance. Then push off again."
Bindi stood up. This time, she did not try to jump high. She did a small hop, just a little one.
Boing.
When she landed, she pressed her tail down on the ground behind her, just as her mother said. And she did not fall.
"I did it!" cried Bindi. "I did one hop!"
"Now try another," said her mother.
Boing. Tail down. Boing. Tail down.
Bindi did three little hops in a row. Then four. Then five. Her legs were still wobbly, but they were getting stronger. The red earth thumped softly under her feet.
"You are doing it!" called Wally. The twins cheered and clapped their paws.
All morning, Bindi practiced. Sometimes she hopped a little too far and tumbled into the grass. Sometimes she forgot to use her tail and toppled over. But each time, she got up and tried again.
By the afternoon, she was hot and tired. She hopped back to her mother, climbed into the pouch headfirst, and wiggled around until only her ears were sticking out.
"Just a little rest," she said sleepily.
Her mother laughed softly and hopped over to the shade of a gum tree. Bindi slept, curled up warm, with her feet poking out of the top.
The next day, she tried again. And the next day, and the next.
Every day, she hopped a little farther. Every day, she climbed into the pouch a little less. Her legs grew strong, and her tail grew clever.
Then, one bright morning, the joeys decided to have a race to the old gum tree by the waterhole.
Bindi stood at the starting line, next to Wally and the twins. Her heart was thumping.
"Ready," said Wally's mother. "Steady. Go!"
Off they went. Boing, boing, boing!
The twins shot ahead, as fast as ever. Wally leaped over a log. Bindi did not try to be the fastest. She hopped like herself, one hop at a time, tail down, push off, tail down, push off.
She did not win. The twins won, as they always did.
But Bindi reached the old gum tree without falling down even once. She stood under its branches, panting and grinning, while a flock of pink and gray birds flew up from the waterhole, calling to each other.
Her mother came hopping up behind her. She did not say anything at first. She just touched her nose to Bindi's nose.
"I hopped all the way," whispered Bindi.
"I saw," said her mother. "Every single hop."
That evening, as the sun went down and turned the red earth even redder, Bindi hopped all the way home beside her mother. Boing, boing, boing. Side by side.
And when the stars came out, she climbed into the pouch one more time. Not because she could not hop. Just because it was still the coziest place in the whole wide world.
For a long time, Bindi had lived inside her mother's pouch. It was the coziest place in the whole world. It was warm and soft and smelled of her mother. From there, she could peek out at everything while her mother hopped across the plains.
Boing, boing, boing, went her mother. And Bindi bounced gently along inside, safe and snug.
But Bindi was growing bigger. Her legs were getting longer. Her tail was getting thicker. And lately, when she curled up in the pouch, her feet stuck out of the top, and her ears tickled her mother's chin.
"Bindi," said her mother one morning, "you are getting big. It is time for you to start hopping on your own."
Bindi peeked out at the ground. It looked very far away. "But I like the pouch," she said. "In the pouch, I can go fast without trying. In the pouch, I never fall down."
Her mother nuzzled her ears. "You can always come back to the pouch when you are tired. But today, let us try a little hop."
So Bindi climbed out, very slowly. She stood on the red earth on her two long back feet. Her legs felt wobbly, like jelly. Her tail swayed behind her.
Nearby, some older joeys were playing. There was Wally, who could hop over a log, and the twins, Tess and Bo, who could hop so fast they looked like brown streaks across the grass.
Bindi wanted to hop like that. She bent her knees. She took a big breath. She jumped.
Boing!
She went up. She came down. And then she tipped over sideways and landed in a soft tuft of grass with her feet in the air.
The twins giggled, but not unkindly. Wally hopped over to help her up.
"Everybody falls at first," he said. "I fell so many times that my mother called me Tumbleweed."
Bindi tried again. Boing! This time, she landed on her feet, but then she wobbled forward and bumped her nose on the ground.
She sat back on her tail and rubbed her nose with her paw. "I cannot do it," she said. "Kangaroos are supposed to hop. But I just fall."
Her mother sat down beside her. "Do you know how I learned to hop?" she asked.
Bindi shook her head.
"My mother told me a secret," said her mother. "She said, do not try to hop like the big kangaroos. Hop like yourself. One little hop at a time. And use your tail."
"My tail?" said Bindi. She looked at her long, thick tail lying on the grass behind her.
"Your tail is like a third leg," said her mother. "When you land, let your tail touch the ground. It will help you balance. Then push off again."
Bindi stood up. This time, she did not try to jump high. She did a small hop, just a little one.
Boing.
When she landed, she pressed her tail down on the ground behind her, just as her mother said. And she did not fall.
"I did it!" cried Bindi. "I did one hop!"
"Now try another," said her mother.
Boing. Tail down. Boing. Tail down.
Bindi did three little hops in a row. Then four. Then five. Her legs were still wobbly, but they were getting stronger. The red earth thumped softly under her feet.
"You are doing it!" called Wally. The twins cheered and clapped their paws.
All morning, Bindi practiced. Sometimes she hopped a little too far and tumbled into the grass. Sometimes she forgot to use her tail and toppled over. But each time, she got up and tried again.
By the afternoon, she was hot and tired. She hopped back to her mother, climbed into the pouch headfirst, and wiggled around until only her ears were sticking out.
"Just a little rest," she said sleepily.
Her mother laughed softly and hopped over to the shade of a gum tree. Bindi slept, curled up warm, with her feet poking out of the top.
The next day, she tried again. And the next day, and the next.
Every day, she hopped a little farther. Every day, she climbed into the pouch a little less. Her legs grew strong, and her tail grew clever.
Then, one bright morning, the joeys decided to have a race to the old gum tree by the waterhole.
Bindi stood at the starting line, next to Wally and the twins. Her heart was thumping.
"Ready," said Wally's mother. "Steady. Go!"
Off they went. Boing, boing, boing!
The twins shot ahead, as fast as ever. Wally leaped over a log. Bindi did not try to be the fastest. She hopped like herself, one hop at a time, tail down, push off, tail down, push off.
She did not win. The twins won, as they always did.
But Bindi reached the old gum tree without falling down even once. She stood under its branches, panting and grinning, while a flock of pink and gray birds flew up from the waterhole, calling to each other.
Her mother came hopping up behind her. She did not say anything at first. She just touched her nose to Bindi's nose.
"I hopped all the way," whispered Bindi.
"I saw," said her mother. "Every single hop."
That evening, as the sun went down and turned the red earth even redder, Bindi hopped all the way home beside her mother. Boing, boing, boing. Side by side.
And when the stars came out, she climbed into the pouch one more time. Not because she could not hop. Just because it was still the coziest place in the whole wide world.
