My father was a population geneticist which is the kind of genetics that involves large populations rather than the kind that predicts whether breeding a red flower with a blue flower will make a purple one. Similar principles are involved but population genetics is much more complex. This type of genetics was very important to the owners of the large sheep ranches in Australia so it wasn't uncommon to take trips outback to visit with them.
Yes, little cherub, this isn't much fun as a bed-time story but rest easy, little one, it will get worse.
On one of the trips outback, my father decided to also use the trip to get some film footage for one of his TV shows so he took my brother and I out with him. It was glorious fun for two young boys as we were riding around in the back of a pickup truck and bouncing through the countryside far away from any real roads.
There were two pickup trucks and perhaps they were racing each other or something but they really astonishing thing to see was all the kangaroos. Perhaps they were intrigued by the trucks as they were pacing them on each side and it wasn't just a few but a great many of them.
Kangaroos don't just come in one color and they were also in many different sizes, all bounding as a kangaroo will at enormous speeds across the land around us. It was a marvelous thing as there all the colors of the Australian outback, all blazing past us at breakneck speed. Australian drivers have no respect for speed laws so this was an exceptionally wild ride and my brother and I were loving it. My father was filming it all with who knows what in mind but we didn't care as we were so much enjoying watching the kangaroos.
After some time we got to the sheep station and there was something that I'm sure bored my brother and I senseless but later we went back out riding again.
No-one said why but we stopped out around a grove of eucalyptus trees and my father started setting up his cameras. One of the ranchers took us off some distance to show us the koalas in the trees and this was quite a wonderful thing too. They're such charming little animals.
My father called to us to come to him so both of us went dashing back to find him filming from near the back of the pickup truck. We came scampering around the truck to him and, after rounding the back of the truck, we saw a bloody great kangaroo, dead on the rear tailgate.
I stopped dead in my tracks and, in a moment of juvenile genius, I went over to it and petted it as if this would somehow help.
All the while my father was filming as apparently what he wanted to capture was an authentic reaction to the death of this great animal. Well, he certainly got that. I'm sure my brother and I were in tears but I can't say that for sure as Australians don't cry as I'm sure you know.
So, thanks, ol' Dad, for traumatising me to the point that I still remember the story fifty years later!
Yes, little cherub, I know this is a horrible bedtime story but it does have a moral to the story: if you see your father with a film camera, RUN AWAY!
Yes, little cherub, this isn't much fun as a bed-time story but rest easy, little one, it will get worse.
On one of the trips outback, my father decided to also use the trip to get some film footage for one of his TV shows so he took my brother and I out with him. It was glorious fun for two young boys as we were riding around in the back of a pickup truck and bouncing through the countryside far away from any real roads.
There were two pickup trucks and perhaps they were racing each other or something but they really astonishing thing to see was all the kangaroos. Perhaps they were intrigued by the trucks as they were pacing them on each side and it wasn't just a few but a great many of them.
Kangaroos don't just come in one color and they were also in many different sizes, all bounding as a kangaroo will at enormous speeds across the land around us. It was a marvelous thing as there all the colors of the Australian outback, all blazing past us at breakneck speed. Australian drivers have no respect for speed laws so this was an exceptionally wild ride and my brother and I were loving it. My father was filming it all with who knows what in mind but we didn't care as we were so much enjoying watching the kangaroos.
After some time we got to the sheep station and there was something that I'm sure bored my brother and I senseless but later we went back out riding again.
No-one said why but we stopped out around a grove of eucalyptus trees and my father started setting up his cameras. One of the ranchers took us off some distance to show us the koalas in the trees and this was quite a wonderful thing too. They're such charming little animals.
My father called to us to come to him so both of us went dashing back to find him filming from near the back of the pickup truck. We came scampering around the truck to him and, after rounding the back of the truck, we saw a bloody great kangaroo, dead on the rear tailgate.
I stopped dead in my tracks and, in a moment of juvenile genius, I went over to it and petted it as if this would somehow help.
All the while my father was filming as apparently what he wanted to capture was an authentic reaction to the death of this great animal. Well, he certainly got that. I'm sure my brother and I were in tears but I can't say that for sure as Australians don't cry as I'm sure you know.
So, thanks, ol' Dad, for traumatising me to the point that I still remember the story fifty years later!
Yes, little cherub, I know this is a horrible bedtime story but it does have a moral to the story: if you see your father with a film camera, RUN AWAY!
2 comments:
Check your account but choise wisely my son
You are far too generous and this means water. Thank you!
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