Mow Me Kangaroo Down

Not far north of the Minilya roadhouse, glossy black dots strut through the silver mirage around a dark mass on the road. With a Formula 1 driver's judgment of closing velocity, at the last second they wheel into the sky, crows playing chicken with the traffic. The tableau of roadkill they are enjoying looks like a multi-species suicide pact. There's the standard eviscerated kangaroo, but also an emu less than a meter away, head tucked under its wing as if sheltering from the wind that fluffs its feathers. Beside it is a foul-smelling black-and-white smear that might have been a penguin,...

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