Greetings, and welcome again to the exciting world of cross-campus travel. This month, we shall put on our explorer’s hats and leather boots (and copious amounts of insect repellent) and head off into the tumultuous jungle that lies to the north: The Jock Marshall Reserve.
This wet and wondrous place is little known outside the notoriously secretive field of Biology, and is likely passed unnoticed by the hundreds who flock to Clayton each morning. It is a place unlike any other, covered in scrubland, exotic grass swards, native trees, and was formerly filled with the most dangerous creatures known to man: Thylogale Billardierii. A thick fence surrounds the reserve, keeping these vicious beasts (some call them “pademelons”) away from civilisation.
As I hoist myself over this mighty barrier, I am struck by the tranquility of the land. Birdsong filters through the mist, as the trees rustle and trucks scream by on the adjacent highway. After falling gracefully into the underbrush, I pull my machete from my belt and begin my dangerous exploration of the wild land. Many swings of my blade later, I find myself at the edge of an enormous lake, the size of which can only be compared to that of a midsize car park. Ducks paddle their way across its surface, quacking their worries away. I wish to join them.
Alas, I cannot accompany those mighty ducks, as night is quickly approaching. I set up my camp by the lakeside, which as usual consisted of a prefabricated cabin, airlifted in. I spend a little time exploring my surrounding as the sun sets, but my little expedition is brought to a halt by the sudden appearance of a Billardierii. I quickly retreat to my shelter, losing my equipment in the underbrush.
I send this message via my trusty carrier pigeon in the hopes that other shall follow in my path. Hopefully bringing food. And water. And more insect repellent.
Sincerely,
The Honourable Captain Timothy Christopher Samuel Newport, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth.
