The Story
Long ago in Australia, kangaroos had no pouches. Their joeys had to hop along beside their mothers as best they could, which made things rather tricky when the grass was tall or the ground was rough.
One warm evening, a mother kangaroo was nibbling the last of the sweet grass near a billabong when she noticed an old wombat sitting alone by the water's edge. He looked tired and thin, and he was staring sadly at the ground.
"Are you all right?" asked the kangaroo.
"I am very old and my teeth are not as good as they once were," said the wombat. "I could not find soft enough grass today, and I am hungry."
Without hesitating, the kangaroo nudged her best clump of grass toward him. "Here. It is the softest patch I know."
The old wombat blinked at her in surprise. Kindness between strangers was not always common in the bush. He ate slowly and gratefully, and when he was done he stood up — and he was not quite the same shape as he had been before.
He was taller, and his eyes were bright, and he smiled in a way that seemed to go beyond smiling.
"You shared your meal when you did not have much to spare," he said. "That is worth a gift."
He reached forward and with gentle hands folded a piece of the kangaroo's own soft fur into a deep, cozy pocket on her belly. "A pouch," he said, "for carrying your joey. Your little one will ride safe and warm, and you will never have to worry about leaving him behind."
The kangaroo looked down at the pouch in astonishment. She gathered her joey and tucked him gently inside. He peeked out with bright eyes and seemed very pleased with the arrangement.
When she looked up to thank the old wombat, he was gone. There was only the quiet water and the last pink light of the evening sky.
And that is why, to this day, every kangaroo mother carries her joey safe and snug in a warm front pouch.