Heron Lake Plateau I'm a police officer. I'm a police officer and I want a cup of tea.

Never stab a wombat in the rear!
That's...most of my wombatbum knowledge sourced right there, alas, 'cause I still haven't seen that Croc Hunter ep.  Woe  ;P

The familiar big stinky sooty-furred male was there behind the ominous spiked creature, his lounging silhouette slowly coming clear as, clued in by Quixote's movement, Owen raised bewildered and wary eyes to focus on it with some difficulty. The bigger male swooped his massive head toward the object, but didn't get too close to its terrible bony white claws reaching for the sky. Owen squinched up his nose doubtfully, looking from his father to the antler repeatedly. Then he reached out a creamy-furred paw of his own and gave it a hasty poke. He leaned quickly back and watched with wide eyes as the antler...rocked very slightly back and forth. Huh. Really? That was kind of anticlimactic.

Owen's inquisitive nose grew increasingly bold, and informed him as he thrust it forward with incrementally greater confidence that this strange object smelled of dirt and faint deliciousness despite its obvious total lack of milk. This despite it being milk-colored. Owen was confused, but after another quick pair of paw-pokes leaned forth and fastened his tiny jaws about the nearest convenient tine experimentally, just to make sure. Yep—no milk here, though his tentatively gnawing teeth still kind of liked the taste of it—somehow. He turned wide and wondering eyes upon his dad as he let out an inquisitive little yip. Then he wrapped his teeth around the object more firmly, awkwardly trying to hug it closer with his forepaws as he began to chew on it with a will. The problem was, given the curved angle of the antler and the slightly upraised end of it he had chosen, this required levering himself up off the ground just a little ways. He teetered back and forth a bit initially as he gladly crunched down on the bony toy, and then, as he repositioned his right paw to come at it afresh from the side for a better grip, managed to knock it sidewise and overbalanced entirely, tipping the object over on top of himself in the process. Owen yiped once as he hit the dirt, and then again, louder, as the tines thudded upside-down into the earth all around him a moment after. His voice burbled uncertainly and then quickly crescendoed into wavery wailing howls as he started to thrash about, realizing he had somehow become trapped beneath this terrible antlercage thing. It had tricked him! What the hell?! How on earth could he have let himself be lured in by its tantalizing scent and seemingly innocuous lack of movement to begin with?! Aaauuuuugh! Now it had him pinned, and was probably licking its chops, wherever among these white spikes those were hidden, in anticipation of next eating him.