Quokka Situation Response Update

The quokkas are getting out of control here. They've started charging for selfies and are bailing up tourists for hot chips and meat pies apparently, although these are unsubstantiated accusations. As self appointed mayor of the inlet, I got a freebie anyway.

Quokka signs are appearing all over the county as they come into ascendance. Kangaroo, emu and feral pig signs are being removed to make room for them.
Then all of the weekender shacks were broken into, windows smashed and cupboards rummaged. The thieves took food, gas bottles and generators. Word got around the bush telegraph that quokkas were to blame. 'They're nasty little fuckers,' said one inlet dweller. 'Take a limb off ya as soon as look at ya.'

'Yeah but you know how to subdue them, don't you?' Yowie said. 'Just pull out your mobile phone and they have to stop chewing off your arm to get a selfie with you.'

'If they are so mean, perhaps we could get them to actually protect the huts,' I suggested. 'Make little uniforms for them and call them, like um ... QUOKKA FORCE.'
There was general nodding all round at this. We agreed that whoever had enough solar power to run a sewing machine should make the uniforms.

It was difficult to recruit the quokkas to head QUOKKA FORCE as no one has ever seen one before. The local coppers turned up and shook their heads at the ramshackle shacks. All the broken windows were at the rear of the shacks where the thieves worked out of sight. One broken window was six foot above the ground. 'Shit, they can jump high, can't they?' Yowie said to the policeman and the policeman looked at him. 
'Who?'
'The quokkas, mate.'
'R i i i ght.'

I began to think the coppers weren't taking us seriously but it was a pretty full on situation. I mean, have you ever seen the size of a quokka's teeth? They're literally the tiny, furry marsupial version of great white sharks.
 

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I couldn't tell the burly man in blue that the thieves had also stolen my weed, but I was sure they had because, unless I stashed it where no one would ever find it, including me, then it was definitely took.* Mind you, a few bongs might slow the quokkas down a bit. I shudder to think of the consequences if they had taken the meth.

The shack folk were feeling a little rattled and depressed. Break ins always feel personal, even when they are random. There were windows to fix and all the beer was gone. Something needed to be done to pull the situation into line. Someone suggested writing a letter to the paper. Then Yowie came up with a brilliant idea.

'We'll write a letter to the shire council,' he said. 'Maybe even an email.' The coppers nodded, jumped into their four wheel drive and left, off to town to do paperwork and some counselling. 

Yowie's email to the shire council produced an astonishing result. Firstly, somebody from the council actually answered it and secondly they acted. In an heroic gesture of solidarity, they put up another sign.
Not just any old sign but one designed to strike terror into the hearts of quokkas everywhere.

* Found it in my spice cabinet.