Kind of
The penalties of being a country doctor's daughter in Australia, especially when there isn't a vet in your town, is that your daddy gets a lot of injured wildlife dumped on his door and
you get assigned the job of looking after them until Wildlife services can get someone out to pick them up. The best was looking after a wedge-tailed eagle with a broken wing for week, which started a life long obsession with raptors. The most problematic was the echidna with burns that we mistakenly put in a wooden instead of a steel box, inside the house. It got out and decided that all our living room furniture - including the built-in bar - needed to be in the middle of the room, and pushed everything into a pile while I was at school.
I've had to look after five wombats in my time - the babies are cute and cuddly, but determined; the adults are stubborn, bad tempered (mostly) and impossible to move if they don't want to. They bite, and they have claws tough enough to cut through big roots of hardwood trees while they are burrowing (I've watched one split a lump of granite with its claws!) They're like little organic tanks; where they want to go, they are going to go. There are roads in Australia that have loops in them for no apparent reason, because there are wombat burrows there and the road, if it went straight, would cross the wombats paths to their feeding grounds. Wombats don't go around, they go through, and if they can't go through, they go under. And each wombat has its own path there and a different one back. When you've had three wombats burrow under the grader and then back again, and you come in every morning to find your grader is now in a three foot deep hole because the tunnels collapsed, plus the tracks have been chewed to shreds by an irrate wombat or two... well, it gets cheaper in the end to just move the road
Oh yeah, and when a wombat and a car get into a disagreement, the car loses, everytime! We have a joke, "spot the animal you just hit": splodge on the windscreen = insect, feathers in the grill= bird, front corner of the car buckled in = kangaroo, engine in the back seat = wombat!
Why treat life as a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving in an attractive & well-preserved body? Get there by skidding in sideways, a glass of wine in one hand, chocolate in the other, body totally worn out, screaming WOOHOO! What a ride!
Goat sex is off limits...people have been banned...around here if you are screwing an animal it better be a WOMBAT!
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