When you take a stroll through the Peak District, there are some wildlife encounters you expect.
Hares, deer, mice, bats, and dozens of British birds have all made their homes in the north west national park.
But, at least until fairly recently, it wasn’t uncommon to stumble upon an altogether less expected beast – a wild wallaby.
These hopping little macropods, a smaller relative of the kangaroo, used to be seen bouncing around the Peak District.
Although their native home is on the eastern coast of Australia and Tasmania, a small group of Bennett’s wallabies successfully bred and survived in Staffordshire.
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Credit: Nicholson Museum
But how on earth did they end up here, half a planet away from their natural habitat?
In 1936 a local landowner, Henry Brocklehurst, introduced five wallabies as part of his private zoo collection.
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The creatures were deliberately released during World War Two, along with three Himalayan yak.
Against the odds, the wallabies thrived.
At the peak of their existence here in the north west, there were around 50 in the colony, though one particularly bleak winter in 1963 is understood to have halved their population (one local recalled seeing ‘several bodies as the snowdrifts melted’).
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The Roaches. Credit: Unsplash, Nirmal Rajendharkumar
In the Facebook group Roaches Appreciation Society, Clare said: “I saw one at the Roaches skyline in the early ‘90s. It sat watching us climbing with its head poking out of the bracken. Then it bounded off. Much to the bemusement of my King Charles spaniel.”
By the 2000s, most locals believed there were only two wallabies left – a mother and daughter, both white-faced.
The most recent confirmed sighting was back in 2009, with undeniable footage showing one of the wallabies bounding through the heather near The Roaches.
Sadly, it’s thought that the snowy weather in the winter of 2010 may have finally pushed the colony into extinction.
Extreme snow in 2010 may have ended the wallabies’ roam at The Roaches. Credit: Unsplash, ian kelsall
There have been plenty more submissions of sightings – though none with photos or videos – in the years since, all listed here.
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Another sighting was in 2017 near the Wild Boar Inn in Wincle, where one person shared a photo of a ‘creature’ that they were ‘fairly certain’ was a wallaby.
When the Financial Times mentioned that sighting to Dr Anthony Caravaggi, a lecturer in conservation biology at the University of South Wales, he replied: “I have no doubt in my mind that that one was a cat.”
Dr Caravaggi published a paper on red-necked wallabies in the UK, which recorded 95 verified sightings in the 10 years leading up to 2018. He’s pretty certain the Peak District wallaby colony is extinct.
A leading expert in the field, who sadly died in 2013, was Dr Derek Yalden.
He found droppings in 2009, but nothing since.
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He wrote in a letter to Roaches.org.uk: “I think they ran out of decent food. However, accidental deaths, on the roads, falling over cliffs and (especially in 1962-63 and 1979) severe winters also took a toll.
“Why should a wallaby venture onto the roads, or jump over a cliff? Probably because a certain section of the public seemed to respond to a sighting with “let’s chase it”, or their dog did.
“They always were very timid, and I watched them panic both to thunder and to the terrifying sight of a sheep arriving.”
There is one place to get a guaranteed wallaby sighting, but don’t expect much in the way of hopping.
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The Nicholson Museum in Leek has stuffed Wally, a male who is believed to have died when he fell into the Lud’s Church cavern.
If you did want to head out exploring for your own wallaby sighting, you can head to The Roaches, a stunning gritstone ridge overlooking Leek.
For those who do visit, remember to stick to the footpaths, take litter home, and respect the rules laid out locally.
Yungblud channels a bit of magic that’d make Ozzy proud on huge headline night in Manchester
Danny Jones
A darkened arena erupts into life as Yungblud storms the AO Arena main stage for his biggest Manchester show to date.
He flickers across the giant screens, projected against a curtain that stretches the full width of the AO Arena. Then that unmistakable Doncaster drawl cuts through the noise, urging the audience to make some noise (even more of it), and they oblige – gladly.
When the lights come up, a barrage of lights flickers, pyrotechnics explode, and chaos ensues. Manchester crowds are no strangers to Yungblud; he’s a livewire performer with seemingly endless energy, a proclivity for raw emotion, and a fiercely loyal fanbase: the self-proclaimed ‘Black Hearts Club’.
Dressed in a grungy pair of Chrome Hearts leather trousers, a leopard-print waistcoat and sunglasses so thick he could look directly at the sun with no issues, he tears straight into the opening track (Hello Heaven, Hello) with barely a second to breathe.
He then pauses – hands extended to the crowd, a cheeky grin – and bang: confetti fills the room.
If previous Manchester shows hinted at his stamina, this one confirms it. The scale may be bigger, but the intensity hasn’t dipped. The floor quickly becomes a sea of movement, with mosh pits swelling and collapsing in waves, sending bodies ricocheting across the arena.
It’s the kind of gig where you’re never quite safe from getting drenched either – water cups are less for drinking and more for launching, with sprays arcing out over the front rows like some kind of punk rock baptism of fire. So many flames.
The audience was on the ball; at one point, Yungblud’s comb was hurled into the crowd. Showgoers in the area tussled over the item for a minute before returning to the mayhem unfolding around them.
Part conductor, part chaos agent, part mic-wielding cowboy, he commands the room with ease. The mic stand, placed in front of him between each song by the production team, is repeatedly cast to the back of the stage, and he flails the mic above his head on more than one occasion – always catching it again before it can strike anyone else. It’s reckless, but never careless.
Because beneath the sweat and noise, there’s something more deliberate at play. His speeches on identity, equality, belonging and mental health feel less like interludes and more like the backbone of the entire night.
This isn’t just performance: it’s a space he’s actively shaping, one where thousands feel seen. Towards the back end of the set, he invites the whole crowd to look left and right and tell each other how much they f***ing love one another.
Tracks like ‘Loner’, ‘Lowlife’ and ‘Zombie’ land with particular weight, their messages amplified by a crowd that knows every word. At one point, the lights swing out over the audience, and for a moment the focus shifts – not just to the performer, but to the community he’s built.
With a touching tribute to the late, great Ozzy Osbourne, Yungblud is visibly emotional, with tears in his eyes for his dearly departed friend. And if the ringing in my ears is anything to go by, I’m pretty sure Ozzy heard it and was looking down with pride.
If you haven’t guessed by now, Yungblud knows how to command a room, but things definitely took a turn when he invited a member of the crowd on stage.
Holding a poster that read something along the lines of “I can play guitar”, she was brought up and proceeded to absolutely bring the house down, performing alongside him for a song. Daisy, hats off – you absolutely SMASHED it.
Congratulations are in order as well to the happy couple who got engaged at the gig. We really hope your first dance is to a Yungblud track.
Even in a venue of this size, he moves like he’s trying to outpace it; sprinting, leaping, barely standing still long enough to catch a breath. It’s hard not to feel like this is still just a stepping stone. Because if he can command a room like this with such force, it’s not a stretch to imagine Yungblud scaling even bigger stages before long.
Loud, relentless and emotionally charged, this wasn’t just a gig, it was a statement – a place to escape the struggles of day-to-day life and bolster an ever-growing community built on all the right things: acceptance, harmony, and just a little bit of chaos. In short, he’s welcome back anytime.
The adorable open farm in Bolton where you can hold baby lambs, bunnies, and chicks this spring
Emily Sergeant
Just outside of Manchester, nestled within 70-acres of rolling countryside, you’ll find Smithills Open Farm – the perfect place for a spring day out.
Smithills Open Farm – tucked away in the picturesque Bolton countryside, beside the historic Smithills Hall and former Coaching House – is, to this day, still owned and operated by the Grimshaw family who have farmed in the area for more than 100 years, and is, by its own admission, a family-run business where children ‘have the time of their lives’ and ‘nothing sits still’.
Anthony Grimshaw moved to Smithills in 1986 with his own young family to start a dairy farm, and ever since then, was encouraged by Bolton Council open a visitor attraction.
The farm went from solely being a working farm to officially ‘opening’ to the public all the way back in 2001, and it’s fair to say it’s gone from strength to strength ever since.
From a huge expansion in 2015, to installing its own dairy and pasteurising plant in 2018, weathering a COVID lockdown where Bolton was one of the worst-hit areas nationally, and going viral on social media, Smithills is showing no signs of slowing down.
At Smithills Open Farm, you’ll find dozens of animals all cohabiting peacefully.
We’re talking everything from the ‘typical’ animals you’d expect to see on a farm like cows, pigs, sheep, goats, donkeys, ducks, rabbits, and horses, to the more exotic kind of residents like alpacas, llamas, emus, and wallabies, as well as meerkats, porcupines, snakes, tortoises and turtles, and so many more.
And thanks to the popular ‘Pets Corner’ and regular tractor rides taking place throughout the day, visitors are able to see, feed, and even hold the animals for themselves.
Smithills Open Farm in Bolton is the perfect spring day out / Credit: The Manc Group
Animal care and education is truly at the heart of everything they do at Smithills Open Farm.
Owners and staff alike pride themselves on giving the animals the ‘best life possible’, while allowing the public to enjoy them too and learn about all the incredible species along the way.
Not only does the farm hold a number of hugely important licenses to operate in the way it does – including a registered Zoo Licence – but it’s also doing a lot to help with the conservation of some rare breeds of animals too, by both allowing customers to see and learn about them, and even overseeing its own breeding to increase numbers.
The animals may be the stars of the show, but it’s only one half of what makes Smithills so special, as it’s remained a working dairy farm all along and supplies milk and a wide range of other products to thousands of households across Bolton.
The farm is also known and loved for its ice creamery and dairy products / Credit: The Manc Group
On site, you’ll also find a shop selling all the products the farm produces, as well as goods from other local sellers, and adorable gifts to take home with you too.
And, of course, how could we forget to give a shoutout to the ice creamery?
People travel from far and wide just to get their fix of these adventurous flavours – and it’s honestly not hard to see why.
Smithills Open Farm is open from 10am-5pm all year round, but as you’d expect, it’s at its cutest (and busiest) around the spring time and school holidays. Whether you want to visit as a family, or organise a school trip, the farm aims to cater for your every need.
Daisy Jackson -
28th January 2022 
