Showing posts with label Bangalay Millie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bangalay Millie. Show all posts

Thursday, 14 February 2008

Oxley Westi's surprise visit

I've been busy spreading a rumour concerning the possibility that one of our yard 9 resident koalas, Bonny Fire, *might be* "with pinkie" (i.e., carrying an unfurred joey in her pouch). If the truth be known, the rumour mill started with the hospital supervisor, Cheyne, who can smell pouch grease at 50 paces. "Pouch grease" is the secretion that sterilises the pouch and keeps the unfurred pinkie moist (it's a little like brown sorbelene).

However excited we all were at the prospect of a new little baby Bonny, it must be said that another pregnancy probably would have taken too much out of her. Bonny's in retirement mode now: the kids have all left home, she's made the sea-change, and now she wants to put her feet up for a bit, potter in the garden, play a little bowls, do a bit of volunteer work. Bonny's last "accidental" joey (when a male patient from another yard broke into yard 9), Bonny Ash, was taxing enough for her (and it simply ruined her weekly Mah-jong night having a joey tagging along). She's not a young koala anymore. So another change-of-life baby would have probably been the last straw for Bonny. (Seriously though, koalas don't go through a "change of life"; they can breed right through their adult lives).

So it was disappointing that there wasn't going to be the pitter-patter of little clawed feet around yard 9; but, you know what they say: a pinkie may go out the door, but a joey comes back through the window. (Well, they *don't* say that, but it works for the purposes of this story).

Back in February 2007, not long after I started at the hospital, I blogged about a koala called Oxley Westi here. When she was admitted, she was quite distinctive in that her eyes were "exopthalmic", meaning the eyeballs protruded abnormally. You can see earlier photos of Westi here here, when her eyes were in better shape.

A veterinary opthalmologist came in to look at Westi's eyes but could not be certain of the cause. We applied a special cream three times a day and this produced some improvement.

Westi also had another more pleasing medical condition: she was "up the pouch" (now that Cheyne has appropriated my neologism "with pinkie", I've been forced to invent another term in the vein of "up the duff"). Yes, on the whiteboard it clearly said "pinkie in pouch", although there was some debate at the time whether this was definitely the case. And we thought we would probably never know for sure. Westi stayed with us a few months and then was released; her eyesight not great, but adequate to perform her everyday activities.

Oxley Holly
Oxley Holly
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Eleven months later, which brings us to a week ago, motorists reported a koala walking along the busy Oxley Highway with a joey on her back. It was Oxley Westi! She *did* have a pinkie and it had become a joey which we gave the name Oxley Holly. Holly was in great shape. At 2.4kg, she was much too big for the pouch and certainly old enough to be away from her mother. Here is some video of Holly climbing aboard her mum's back as they eat leaf together.


Unfortunately Westi was not doing as well as her daughter. Although her body condition was good, her eyes had become much, much worse. They had clouded over significantly and were protruding even more than they had the year before. It was clear that she was blind. There was nothing we could do for Westi now. She was examined by a veterinary ophthalmologist who came up especially from Sydney to advise us, but the decision was made for Westi to euthanased to put an end to the pain her eyes must have been causing her. At least Westi was able to leave a tiny bit of herself behind in the guise of little Holly.

The same can be said of Bangalay Millie, a female koala with advanced wet bottom who was sent to the great gumtree in the sky last week. From her necropsy it was clear that she had carried a joey at some point; it's gladdening to know that Millie also contributed to the great circle of koala life (to paraphrase a Lion King metaphor).

Holly spent a little time in her own intensive care unit (here she is being released there for the first time), where she was joined by another joey with a rather unique story. William Krystal was a joey found on William Street in downtown Port Macquarie. The gentleman who discovered her was, shall we say, "tired and emotional" after an evening at the pub. When he came across an abandoned joey, he cuddled her for about two hours before bringing her to the koala hospital. Krystal was completely fine (although we generally discourage human contact for the joey's own good). We were just glad that the chap had not come across an older koala who might not have been so accommodating to his affectionate ways (then we discourage human contact for the human's own good).

Koalas might look like cuddly bears, but let the koala-cuddler beware (caveat koala huggor)! They possess scimitar claws that don't retract, meaning they can deliver nasty gashes whether they mean to or not. Just the other day, Barb was holding Oxley Holly, who gave a little start, inadvertently gave Barb a good scratch on the nose. As one of our special home-carers, Barb is used to a bit unintentional joey biffo. Pressing a tissue to her injury, she assured me: "it wouldn't be the first time, Sam, and it won't be the last".

Although at over 2kg Holly and Krystal are large enough to be separated from their mothers, we like to let the joeys continue to grow in a safe environment where they can also improve their climbing skills. So both joeys joined Settlers Inn Casey in yard 6 where they have a large spreading gum to practise climbing in.

In other koala news, we're a bit concerned that Ocean Joseph's not weeing. Cheyne tried dangling him by his arms the other day (which he looked like he rather enjoyed), in an effort to encourage a dribble, but to no avail. She fears that there might be a problem with his kidneys being backed up after his accident.

We also got called out to a house in Moruya Drive. A koala was up someone's orange tree: not a good place for a koala. Their backyard was surrounded on all sides by other backyards with dogs: definitely not a good place for a koala. Being in a orange tree had its advantages and disadvantages for us rescuers. Having very dense branches meant the koala could not spring out away from branch to branch as they often do; but this also meant it was difficult to for us to get up under the branches to get to the koala. Barb had the "scare" poles, designed to encourage the koala to move down the tree. I was wedged underneath it with a bag. After quite a bit of scurrying back and forth (and stamping all over the residents' ornamental garden), I managed to use the bag to lift the koala's arms from the tree. I backed away and out into the open with said koala and somehow lowered her to the ground and, with Barb's help, got the bag over her. Although my heart was racing and my legs were shaking, it was a textbook rescue.

The koala didn't have an ear tag, meaning she had never been a hospital patient before (woo hoo!) and she wasn't going to become one now either. Her eyes looked clear and her bum looked clean and white – seemingly wet bottom-free! This was merely a relocation, the koala doesn't get an official name. But I've dubbed her Moruya Judith that's what she *would* have been called had she been admitted. We drove around the corner to a lovely bushy corner with plenty of eucalyptus where we let her go.

Some good news: Kennedy Easy has been released, which was captured on film by my fellow koalawrangler, Emma.

Click here to see more photos of this week's koala patients at the Koala Hospital, Port Macquarie.

Thursday, 10 January 2008

Hamlyn Bev returns to the fold

Alas, it can pay not to keep your hopes up regarding certain koalas. Sometimes a koala whose unit you've cleaned one week might take a turn for the worse and not be there at your next shift. I had been especially concerned about Hamlyn Bev and Bangalay Millie, both wet bottoms who’d been rescued during my shift on Thursday - Hamlyn Bev by Amanda and myself. Both were scheduled for ultrasounds at the vet and their outcome was uncertain until that examination.

So I’m thrilled to see both have been accommodated in units in the ICU. Just as I arrive, I spy Jim entering Bev’s unit with a bundle of towels and a scissors-and-string basket.

"Hold it right there, cowboy," I warn him. "That there is *my* koala. I bagged her fair n' square and no ornery varmint is gonna wrangle her but me.”

Jim looks suitably afraid and asks if there are any other koalas he needs to steer clear of, or if he should simply leave town on the next mail-coach.

Hamlyn Bev
Hamlyn Bev
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Bev’s ultrasound showed up that her bladder was clear but she has a cyst beside her ovaries. Not sure whether that’s something they will try to remove or not. She also has a weepy right eye from conjunctivitis.

Bev is a different girl to the one I saw on Thursday. Today she is spritely and alert, looking so pointedly at me that I worry for a moment that she might be about to spring off the gunyah and onto me the moment my back is turned. Of course, Bev was hand-raised in the hospital when she came to us as an orphan, so she is more used to human contact that the wilder koalas we get in the place. She’s got none of the “wild” koala reticence.

I go off in search of her food. She takes to it with gusto, sucking on the syringe like it’s a bottle. I try to position it at the side of her mouth but she won’t have it, she wants it front and centre like a teat. She suctions onto it and slurps it back and I imagine she’s recalling her days back in homecare with her foster mum, Judy. Apparently, Judy has been popping in to check on her former charge, ensuring she has her favourite leaf on hand.

Each time I place the syringe in her mouth, she reaches towards me and tries to grab my arm. It seems easier to let her, since she’s just wants something to hang on to and her claws aren’t particularly sharp. But she grapples for the syringe and they start to dig in; so I let go, and find myself in the situation I was in with Warrego Martin the other day – trying to wrestle the syringe out of the surprisingly nimble claws of a hungry koala.

Jim is next door, listening to the one-way conversation I’m having with Bev:

“Let go.”
“Ow, that hurts.”
“Drop it…”
“Give me back that syringe.”
“Not my arm, take the branch, the branch, not ME!”

He comments that he thinks I must have let him off lightly, if that’s the kind of carry-on Bev’s giving me. (Of course, I’m loving every minute of it, really!).

Bangalay Millie
Bangalay Millie
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Just then, Jim yells “hey!”. Apparently Bangalay Millie has just tried to jump from her gunyah onto the window ledge. That’s a good sign really. Her wet bottom seems much more advanced than Bev’s (who’s been rated a 1 on the wet bottom scale), so the fact that Millie’s still full of beans is usually a good sign.

I look in on Newport Bridge Gloria, one of the sweet little koalas from the drug trials earlier this year. She’s much quieter then these other two. Joy commented that it’s causing her pain to pass urine, which is not good. Still, we keep up her treatment and hope for the best.

Granite Murray has become a “jumper” apparently. He’s fed up with being indoors and wants out. So he’s taking it out on the vollies. He’s another less-wild (“tame” is a dirty word around here) koala, having been a patient here a few times before. So he knows the drill. But he’s over it and wants the great outdoors.

He probably thinks he’s missing out on all the fun Roto Randy’s been having.

Click here to view more of today's koala hospital snaps.

Wednesday, 9 January 2008

Ocean Joseph and Hamlyn Bev

Well, today had the makings of a regular Thursday, after the yuletide madness of Christmas and Boxing Day.

I got assigned Kempsey Carolina and Ocean Joseph today. Both get a feed so I headed off to visit my friend Kempsey, who quickly drew a crowd as she slurped up her formula.

The leaf was already cut and laid out so I made short shrift of her yard, decking it out with plenty of Swamp Mahogany and Tallowwood.

I've only once before cleaned Ocean Joseph's yard before and he wasn't terribly interested in my feeding him. He's lying lengthwise on the gunyah, taking the pressure off the nasty bottom wounds he incurred in his second car accident in the space of months. Joyce looked after him in home care for a little while before he took up residence in the recently refurbished yard 8 (Perks Chris's former yard).

Ocean Joseph
Ocean Joseph
From koalawrangler's gallery.

He's one of those koalas that doesn't seek out the food pot--unlike Kempsey who licks at the air between mouthfuls. Joseph just lays there placidly while I gently squeeze the syringe between his lips. When he gets a taste of the formula, he decides he quite likes it, but he doesn't offer too much encouragement. He had big brown eyes and a calm expression common to the big males.

Joy, the hospital supervisor on today's shift, pops in to smear cream on his behind -- it can't be comfortable to sit on. His gunyah is covered in towels to soften his seat and to absorb any leakage from the wound.

Joseph nibbles at a bit of the new leaf before deciding it's all too much and decides to settle down for a snooze.

In the joey yard next door, Settlers Inn Casey is awake and having a bit of a scratch. According to the day-room whiteboard, she's been given a squirt of tick repellent of the exactly the same variety we give our dog. Because she seldom comes down, we don't get an opportunity to check her over for ticks, and it's the young koalas that can get anaemic if they get too many on them.

Casey is a wild child. She was an abandoned joey that had been fending for herself fairly well out in the bush, but was brought in to the hospital when she was sighted. We usually like to have joeys' weight up around 3.5kg before they are released, so she's staying with us to grow and fatten up. I remember when she first came in; she was like a child raised by wolves -- so small and cute-looking, yet pulling away and scratching like a banshee. "I'm big and tough, and can take care of myself!", she seemed to be saying.

Right now, she's looking down on me like I'm a small grub of no consequence. Speaking of grubs, just then three or four kookaburras camped out across several trees start howling at once. One has a large lizard in its mouth and the others aren't happy about it. It's so loud we can barely speak over the din. Tricia in yard 9 starts mock-laughing out loud, joining in.

Everyone's finishing up their yards when we get a call from Hazel, who runs the hospital kiosk. There's a suspected wet bottom koala in the tree outside her house. She needs some vollies to come over with rescue poles to get the koala down.

She lives in a leafy, meandering part of Port Macquarie. There are numerous koala crossing signs and all the streets we pass conjure up names of previous koala patients that hail from this area: Nulla Sam, Hamlyn Jack, Chisholm Dave, Cattlebrook John...

There are a host of folk waiting our arrival out in the street. Amanda and I get to work erecting our poles, while Hazel and another chap get the bags at the ready. The koala is a small one with a tag in her right ear, so we know she's a female and a former hospital patient. Amanda and I move in with our poles; it's a bit like we're jointly wielding a pair of giant chopsticks to pluck out a dumpling. Except that we don't ever touch her with the poles; the cloth hanging from them is used to entice her down the tree. She's currently sleeping so we have to wave a cloth in her face to wake her. It's a dream rescue -- she makes her way down the tree with our guidance and straight into the bag.

I hold her in the bag on my lap as we head back to the hospital. She hardly weighs anything at all.

Back at the hospital, Joy herself has gone out on a rescue so Amanda and I do our best to fill in the new koala's admission paperwork. I check her ear -- 967, no wait, 496...I was reading it upside down. D'oh. It's hard to wiggle the tag around on the ear of a live wild animal in a bag. Really it is.

We look her up in the book: it's Hamlyn Bev, an abandoned joey who was admitted to the hospital in May 2006 weighing only 1kg. She was home-cared then transferred to the hospital to grow before she was released in September last year.

I weigh the bag on the scales: 5.7kg, but after subtracting the weight of the bag, that makes her only 4.8kg, not big. Amanda finds a green form and we start completing it with details about her observable symptoms in preparation from Joy to examine her on her return. Amanda mixes up some hydrating liquid and we attempt to feed her. She's also got a few ticks on her that we remove.

Hamlyn Bev
Hamlyn Bev
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Hamlyn Bev
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Just then, Joy gets back with another koala she's rescued, not a previous admission, but with a very advanced wet bottom. We call her Bangalay Millie. She's going off to the vets for an ultrasound this afternoon which will tell us what's what.

Joy has a look at Bev and we all agree that Amanda and I should give up any fantasy we had to become vets. We'd both thought her tongue was a little yellow; Joy said it was quite normal. However, her right eye was slighly cloudy. Joy also notes that she's got a swollen gland under her arm and a very distended belly, the kind you see in malnourished children, which is clearly giving her some discomfort. Her fur condition iss good but her musculature was slack and she felt scrawny to touch. We watch her walk around the treatment room to see how she carries herself. She doesn't appear to have any mobility issues, other than being quite lethargic.

Poor little sausage! She's off to the vet for an ultrasound too. Fingers crossed.

Click here to view more of today's koala hospital snaps.