Barret and I were camping with a group of friends outside the rural town of Blackheath. While I had been in no rush to leave my down-stuffed cocoon on such a cold morning, this unexpected announcement sent me jumping into action.
“Oh my god! KANGAROOS? Really?”
With the camera in one hand, Barret hastily tried to zip the tent back up. When the zipper caught on a rain flap he gave up and ran off. I fixed the snag and then changed into my warmest clothes before meeting him near the edge of camp. The grass underfoot was damp from a fog that had moved in overnight.
“Did you know that kangaroos have three vaginas?” Barret asked as we tiptoed through a field of small saplings.
“What?! You’re lying.”
“That’s seems a bit excessive.”
“They have two uteruses too.” Barret paused to let the math sink in.
I already knew that kangaroos were capable of producing different kinds of breast milk at the same time for babies in different stages of development, but I had never factored multiple vaginas into that quick turnover formula.
“How does that even work?” For some reason I thought about bowling balls.
Barret looked like a naughty school boy who had just shared information gleaned from his big brother. “I have no idea!”
We were both wiser yet completely in the dark.