Out in the woods, up to no good…
Although there have been rumours about a man named Robin of Sherbrooke for decades, a man who lives in the bush, clad all in eucalyptus green, living off the land and a peerless bowman, there wasn’t a real Robin of Sherbrooke until the early 1990s. By that time, the feral cat population in the State Forest that covers much of Sherbrooke and environs was out of control. The cats were destroying native animals and plants, polluting the watercourses and occasionally making noises that kept people up at nights (notably the so-called Tree-Top War of 1991, where the feral cats fought a bloody and genocidal campaign against the possums, gliders and their allies throughout the forests).
Comes the hour, comes the man, and Robin – actually Robyn, and not a man at all – was that man (only, you know, a woman). She rallied her Hairy Men and they took to the bushland, hunting the cats up dale and down hill, slaying them wherever they found them – and carefully disposing of the corpses in order to cause minimum disruption to the local ecosystem (since the remaining feral cats would cheerfully have dined upon their fallen relatives). Robyn of Sherbrooke (and her Hairy Men, and again, not all of them were men, either) were armed mostly with small, deadly crossbows and were, without exception, crack shots.
By 1995 the feral cat population had diminished to a more manageable level (largely because of Robyn’s directive that each and every cat corpse was to be left on the doorstep of a local resident known or suspected of owning an unspayed cat), and the Hairy Men, and Robyn of Sherbrooke, disappeared back into the mists of legend, to come again in the Dandenong Ranges’ hour of greatest need.
Suburbs near Sherbrooke: