Now the first to actually report the kangaroo to the sheriff’s office was a fellow who had been spending a rather protracted, and highly liquid, evening down at the Silver Spur. He wouldn’t give his name, but the dispatcher knew who he was.

Others had probably spotted the kangaroo first, but might have given some thought to just how it might sound if they reported it, and besides, he was just happily munching and hopping around out there and not bothering anyone, really, and we’re not the kind of people to interfere in anyone else’s life for no reason. Not even the life of a kangaroo.

The deputy couldn’t locate the kangaroo, and radioed back to the dispatcher his failure. This was overheard by Jim down at the local radio station, and reported at the top of the hour. When that happened, the phone lines buzzed with people who had either already seen the kangaroo or who wanted to and wanted to know which alfalfa field he was in.

The farming area to the west of town quickly filled with families in cars, cruising around slowly, looking for the visiting foreigner. Veterinarians were called by reporters to see if anyone had a pet kangaroo who might have escaped. The zoo is 25 miles away, but it quickly counted noses and couldn’t come up one kangaroo short.

The Great Kangaroo Hunt lasted until dark. Speculation lasted for days over where it had come from, where it had gone, and whether or not the coyotes would get it. After most of a week went by with no more sightings, the kangaroo began to blend into the mists of local legend. No one had taken a photo of it, of course, but no one seriously doubted we’d had a kangaroo here, either.

Sometimes a community needs a good kangaroo sighting.

(setBF)Brought to you by Ol’ Max Evans. See it at www.slimrandles.com(unBF)