My curiosity has been piqued lately. It could be from some recent news stories between here and my homeland that people have treated with varying degrees of scepticism it's fair to say. Back in late August the county of Essex was seemingly in lockdown while more than 30 police and £3600 worth of police helicopter time was spent searching for what a couple reported as a lion on the loose. Their evidence was a photo that was more fuzzy than grainy. It could even be described as a portrait of Bungle from the children's television program Rainbow in a relaxed pose, taken with a 0.25 Megapixel camera. In spite of an intense search, no lion was found.
Back in my home state of Victoria, the government itself believes in big cats. Only days before the Essex Lion appeared and vanished the Victorian State Government was investigating years of reported sightings and suspected evidence of puma and panthers roaming through the state's vast parks and forests. While hiking and photographing with a friend I once saw what was a generously long and sleek black cat in the middle of a remote forest. Whether it was a panther or a 'very large black cat' that shouldn't have been there anyway I'm not confident to say either way. I was too stunned to reach for my camera in any case.
Big cats stories are becoming commonplace at either end of the world and every man with a Ute and savagely-bred dog now wants to find them. I wanted to see if I can find something less common, perhaps somewhat less vicious also. I have something different, but no less exotic, to find myself. I speak of the population of Bennetts Wallabies that have become a feature of the area and part of local folklore
I found it curious that some of my country's natives have set up colonies in the UK. To me it's strange as I'm used to it being a roll-call of European invaders who have taken well to Australia: rabbits, foxes, starlings, sparrows and black rats, of course. I’m an advocate for nature staying local and where it belongs, but I must confess to a ping of revenge to know that we had some interlopers in the land of the imperial colonists who introduced the pest animals of Australia. I speak of one of the populations of Wallabies that have ended up in the UK, particularly a population of Bennetts Wallabies, a sub-species of Red-necked Wallabies.
Given that I lived relatively close to the region that hosted these macropods, it would have been rude of me to not see some of my fellow country-beings…if they were still about that is. Reports of the Wallabies had become increasingly sparse it’s fair to say. The last report was in August of 2011, and the previous one was two years earlier. I was no less deterred though; perhaps I would find evidence, speak to people who had experienced or had intimate knowledge of the wallabies.
Firstly I best explain how the Wallabies came to be so far from their home range. Although not abundant in marsupial macropods, England has long been well populated with the wealthy and eccentric. One of these species was Captain Henry Courtney Brocklehurst who owned the property of Roaches House. A characteristic of many of the rich and eccentric in the past was to own their own menagerie. And Captain Brocklehurst was no different. Roaches House had its own zoo of exotic animals. An article written in the Leek Post and Times on August 13th, 1938 describes the scene that occurred over the 80 acres of property. The article explains that a ‘casual wanderer whose route took him past the estate’ would be ‘excused a certain furrowing of brow at sight of its fellow denizens’. The article continues ‘he might be met by the enquiring stare of llamas’ or ‘emus would merely look indignant and a little fierce’ while ‘a pair of yak would go about placidly grazing’. Aside from the menagerie of residents, the article’s fascination was with the unusually natural and free roaming setting of the zoo. The zoo apparently offered ‘all the advantages and none of the disadvantages of life in their native land - an abundance of natural food, shelter from storm and a freedom of travel in almost every wise comparable to what they would enjoy in the wilds’. The article declares the Roaches Zoo to be an animal ‘Utopia’ and ‘Eden’ when compared to other captive zoos throughout the country.
It must be said that Captain Brocklehurst was better prepared than most of the British Gentry to host a zoo at home. After being a pilot through the First World War his career’s natural progression was as game warden of British Sudan. In an interview with the Berkeley Daily Gazette in 1934, Captain Brocklehurst explained that he felt safer in the jungle of the Sudan than in New York City and that he found it to be ‘too noisy’ and ‘too hot’, which bemused the writer of the article given that Captain Brocklehurst would be dealing with the heat of Sudan. The busyness of 1930s New York was ‘a clatter’ that ‘would have him batty in a month’s time if he stayed around that long’. The one saving grace of New York for Captain Brocklehurst was the Museum of Natural History. He had much praise for the natural settings that were arranged as backdrops for the stuffed and mounted animals. Brocklehurst declared ‘we have nothing like it in England, the way they are arranging the backgrounds for stuffed animals here, the grass, the foliage, the trees are remarkable. I think the exhibits will prove trustworthy for hundreds of years’.
The Captain’s adoration for the natural settings of the Museum of Natural History hinted at his broader philosophy for animal conservation, having views that were very much ahead of their time. A biography Elizabeth, the Queen Mother by Hugo Vickers describes Brocklehurst’s role in hosting the Duke and Duchess of York (whom would later become Queen Elizabeth) in early 1925. The Captain had already known the Duke and Duchess from his social circles back in Britain. During their tour of East Africa, the Duke reportedly found Uganda to be a less attractive country than Kenya which they had previously visited. The Duke however did manage to shoot two elephants, a lion and a white rhino. The Duchess also shot a white rhino. Their host in Sudan had different views on animal welfare, quoted as stating ‘a good photograph of a wild animal in its natural surroundings is of more interest than all the heads, and is often a sign of great patience, courage and skill in bush craft. Record heads mean nothing and are purely luck. Above all, don’t kill just for the sake of killing!’ In 1940 Captain Brocklehurst was again called upon to serve his country, returning to action in World War 2, firstly in the Middle East, then Burma where he died in battle on June 28th, 1942. A memorial plaque erected on the Roaches estate in 1949 by Philip Brocklehurst describes his brother as a person who won ‘the trust of all dumb living things’.
After his tenure in Sudan, Captain H.C. Brocklehurst established The Roaches zoo upon returning to England. A private zoo, it was an outpost for the London Zoo to conduct breeding and conservation programs. In addition to the Emus, Llamas and famously aggressive Yaks, the zoo had ‘Tasmanian Black Swans’, as Black Swans were then known, and a pair of mating Wallabies were brought in from Whipsnade Zoo in 1936. The original pair of breeding Wallabies indeed mated. 5 of the species were either released or escaped 2-3 years after the original pair arrived. The 5 escapees established a colony on the neighbouring moors and peaked at approximately 50 individuals in 1962. Harsh winters and the ever-present danger of road fatalities caused the population to fall to between 10-20 individuals over the period between 1970-1985. This was in spite of the introduction of an additional male in 1978. Although the official line was that this was to lessen genetic inbreeding, the wallaby population undoubtedly had tourism value for the local villages. The Roaches area and the Peak District are interesting enough in their own right, yet there was a market of people curious to see if they could sight or photograph any remaining wallabies…just as I was hoping to.
It took me three attempts to visit The Roaches. Given that it had been the wettest summer in 100 years you would assume that the weather had some part in my previous cancellations. I had called up to arrange to speak to a ranger who may have some knowledge of the Wallabies and the history of them. After being passed through a few people I ended up speaking with a man who seemed like he had been part of the system for some years. After giving me the names and numbers of some people who it may be worth speaking to he broke the news that I wouldn’t be able to visit for two weeks as they were conducting some aerial herbicide spraying. I waited out the two weeks and primed myself to visit The Roaches, only to have injured my wrist in a freak pint glass accident the evening before.
The Saturday I did manage to visit was a beautifully warm and bright day in a summer that had few of them. I just managed to make the morning run of the twice daily Buxton-Leek bus, disembarking near The Three Horseshoes pub in the village of Tittesworth, just north of the town of Leek. After a false start down a country road I pulled out some crude directions and headed towards the Roaches, a ruggedly rocky region within the picturesque Peak District National Park. Given that I was carrying my camera, lens and tripod, the few miles uphill to The Roaches was a slow walk, but some good exercise.
The Roaches isn’t the great secret location that I was hoping that it may have be. on the approach to the great rock crags the roadside was soon filling with vehicles taking advantage of the glorious weather. I soon met a couple who, like me, had to make their own way to the location. They were Czechoslovakian; one was from Slovakia and the other from the Czech Republic. They woke in the morning, pulled out a book of British walks and liked the look of the Roaches as a walking destination, so paid whatever the fare was from their neighbourhood of London to get a train to Stoke where they got a cab to the Roaches for £25. I shared my knowledge of the marsupials that were - and maybe still were - resident around these parts. They found it hard to believe, which was to be a theme for the day I was to discover.
Many of the fellow explorers were prepared with rock climbing equipment; The Roaches happens to be the most popular destination for the activity in England. There were some groups of climbers and walkers scattered around the base and over the rocks themselves. I listened in while one group received some commentary on the mysterious building of Rock Hall, which is loaded with history in its own right. Rock Hall Cottage - also known as Don Whillans Hut - was built by Phillip Brocklehurst as a hunting lodge, but the more interesting history originates from the cave that the cottage backs on to. In the 1800s a lady by the name of Bess Bowyer - unflatteringly referred to as an old crone of great age - supposedly lived for nearly a century. It is said that she would harbour smugglers and deserters who may have been on the run from soldiers tracking them down.
While many of climbing brigade were heading directly toward the middle of the rocks and doing what they enjoy, my camera, tripod and I traversed the perimeter of the rocks. A nice gradual climb took me through a small wooded area. before finding a gap that allowed some wonderful panoramic views of the surrounding Staffordshire, Derbyshire and Cheshire countryside. I enjoyed seeing the sky punctuated with Buzzards, Kestrels and the odd Peregrine Falcon. Looking down the valley I saw the archetypal English countryside fields separated by dry-stone walling - an art that fascinates me no end. It was all a lovely view, but if any of the infamous wallabies of The Roaches still existed they weren’t about today.
I asked the young barman at Ye Olde Rock Inn if he had any recent knowledge of the Roaches' Wallabies. He gave me a bit of a funny look and thought for a moment before adding 'they sometimes talk about big cats roaming around here'. I take it as a personal insult if I'm being associated with that lot; I don’t know if my target mammal is out there…but they were at some point.
After finishing my pint at Ye Olde Rock I continued the walk from Upper Hulme down to the slightly bigger village of Tittesworth along the A53 to the Three Horseshoes pub. The traffic traveling along here between Buxton and Leek seems to ignore any speed restrictions that applies to these quiet settlements. After walking along a narrow strip of roadside path for half a mile I took care to avoid becoming roadkill as some of the wallabies reportedly had over the years as I had to cross towards the Three Horseshoes. In the driveway across from me I smiled and waved to an old timer whose attention I caught between 4WDs and convertibles taking advantage of a (rare) warm and bright day. I tried to comment about the traffic as it buzzed between us and I think he got the message. After I crossed the road to continue the conversation I noted that the man was wearing a Peak District National Park cap. Maybe he worked for the National Park over the years and studied the wallabies up close. After finding out that he'd lived in the area most of his life I started to ask what he knew of the local wallabies. At this point he turned on his feet and shuffled back to his house. One could guess that he was contributing to the local mystery by ignoring my queries. Or a more plausible option was the hearing aid in his right ear.
I settled into the Three Horseshoes while I waited for the last bus of the day back to Buxton and was soon talking to Sam, a silver-haired, yet fit, retired British soldier. We spent the next one and a half hours have a great chat. The discussion covered the monarchy, national identity, sport, his war experiences, governments, politics, the cost of living and other matters of the day. We didn't, however, get around to discussing the existence of wallabies though.
