Raindrops keep fallin' on my koalas

Innes Tony's foot
From koalawrangler's gallery.

A bit of a quiet shift today although we had a few new vollies. Amanda takes Keith to train and gets me to train Brooke up in yard 10. There are only three koalas there now: Tractive Golfer, Morrish Steven and Innes Tony. I go through the techie things like where's the best place to cut a branch fork, how to achieve the correct leaf length, where the poop goes to be sifted from leaf; that sort of thing.

While we're focusing on leaf lengths, Tractive sneaks down onto his gunyah and starts snuffling about in the leaf. I take Brooke over so that we can feed him his formula. He's a good boy and drinks it all up today. I give Brooke a go, but she's a bit nervous about getting the flow right.

Amanda and Keith come in and start to service Morrish Steven's yard so we start on Innes Tony. He's perched up high in his leaf, with one foot dangling. I can't resist taking a few snaps. It's a koala foot/hand fetish I've pick up from Emma. Their black leathery paw lining seems almost monkeylike, yet their hand shape is quite human. Their hands have five digits, like a human's, except they have two opposable thumbs and three other fingers, while their feet have four toes. I stroke Tony's little foot for a second; he doesn't seem to mind.

We take a break to wait for the leaf to arrive. Jo, the Sydney uni researcher, tells me what's been going on in the hospital for the last few days. They finally decided to euthanase Bellevue Bill; he had run the course of the uni drug trials but still his prognosis was poor, the Chlamydia infection having inflamed his bladder walls, making it difficult for him to urinate. I know it will sadden our most recent international vollies, Chris and Tracy, to hear it :( Bill's gentle ways had endeared him to many of us.

Walcha Barbie, the little one with the bandaged arm, was also put to rest. She'd gone dramatically downhill in a short time, so it was for the best. Jo also tells us about Hart Jumper who was brought in last night with a pronounced facial tumour which, incidentally, is NOT related to the facial tumour condition that has been decimating the Tasmanian Devil population. Upon further examination, it was revealed that this koala had other tumours as well so I'm glad the hospital was able to put an end to his suffering.

I take Brooke out to show her around the other yards. Links VTR, as if on queue, scampers adorably up a beam to his tree lookout and peers down at us. It's hard to believe, he went from this tiny little moppet:


Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.
To this über-cuddly specimen:


Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.
The leaf's ready now, but it's started to rain. We bolt up to yard 10 with a bundle and I set about demonstrating how to produce two leaf pots from the raw branches of nicholii, tallowood and something-or-other gum that Chris has brought in today. It's raining heavily now so Vanessa, Paul and Jarrod come in to help finish off the yard. My koala smock is drenched through.

Before I head off, I pop into the aviaries to visit Oxley Jo. Jo the researcher has determined that her secondary infection is the Chlamydia returning. She made a mess of her unit last night, which is the same behaviour she demonstrated months ago at the height of her first infection. It could be a symptom of her discomfort. I'm quite convinced that for little Jo the best thing is for her to relieved of any more pain. I like to imagine that she will keep our O'Briens Fiona company up in the celestial gumtrees.

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

Fingers crossed for Oxley Jo

Kimmy, like Lake Christmas, is a treetop-dweller who only honours us with a visit to earth when she's feeling peckish. She's looking her usual fetching fluffy self. Emma notices a tick under her chin and plucks it off. Kimmy grizzles a bit, much like a recalcitrant child having its hair combed.

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

"Guess who I saw yesterday?", is the first thing I say to Pete when I arrive. I tell him about our excursion to Ellenborough to check on Ellenborough Nancy. I'm pleased when Pete says that her still being in the same tree is a good sign. She must like it there.

Walcha Barbie is back in home care. I'm relieved that she's still with us since she seemed to have gone downhill late last week. There's a new koala in: Candelo Cool. There was a kids' party taking place near where she was rescued and the kids kept saying how "cool" it all was. Robyn says she's a pretty thing (as well as cool), but all I can see is her back and fluffy round ears when I take a peek at her in ICU.

Kempsey Carolina
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I can see that Emma's already in Linksy's yard. Pete's given me Kempsey's food pot; she's asleep so I natter over the fence to Emma for a bit about koalas, cameras -- the usual! -- and her impending trip to England -- the not so usual. Kempsey awakens and starts poking her nose over towards our voices so I pull up the stool and start feeding. It's always two steps forward, one back with Kempsey, who swallows half of what's in her mouth and then dribbles the rest back out into the feedpot (which I ensure his under her chin for this reason).

Once fed she curls up again, possibly nodding off to sleep on her full belly except that her one eye is open. Perhaps she can sleep with one eye open since it's blind? We'll never know.

Next is the joey yard. Siren Gem, it appears, was released on Friday. Judy had captured him when he was down for his feed -- a common occurrence. It's Lake Christmas, the female joey, whose seldom visible except as a speckled white bottom in the highest branches. There's a note on the whiteboard that she should also be 'captured' for a weigh-in and a tick check, if she ever makes it down during daylight.

While I'm raking, I hear a familiar eeping from the aviary that faces the joey yard. Kim, one of the uni researchers, is just administering some drug treatment. I ask her who the koala is. It's Oxley Jo. My heart sinks at this. I know it's not good. Kim tells me that Jo has developed a secondary infection. She spent a couple of month on the drug trials and finally showed signs of recovery. The koalas on the trial need to show clear blood tests for four weeks before they're considered ready for release. Oxley Jo was only days away from this when her wet bottom started up again. I did notice that the fur around her bottom was damp last week but put it down to the rain. It may be the Chlamydia again or something else; either way, it's not positive that a young koala such as Jo hasn't been able to fight it off. If she's not responding to the drugs, there's little more that can be done, especially if she's in discomfort.

The drug trial has had so many successes; I can think back to the releases of Macquarie Peter, Ellenborough Kelly and Warrego Martin, and, more recently, Sandfly Jye, Ocean Roy, Lookout Harry, Oceanview Terry, Links Lorna and Ellenborough Nancy. Not to mention the 180 degree turnaround of Anna Bay Miles, a koala in the hospital's sole care. It's just unfortunate that we can't save them all. I ask Kim what I can do. "You could feed her some formula and send her healing vibes", she tells me with a hopeful smile. She's in Ellenborough Nancy's old aviary, so I console myself that perhaps Jo will channel some of Nancy's feistiness for herself.


Ocean Kim
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Before we start on the fresh leaf, Emma's joey-trained eye notices Ocean Kim down on her gunyah. Kimmy, like Lake Christmas, is a treetop-dweller who only honours us with a visit to earth when she's feeling peckish. She's looking her usual fetching fluffy self. Emma notices a tick under her chin and plucks it off. Kimmy grizzles a bit, much like a recalcitrant child having its hair combed. She doesn't stay miffed for long. She poses for a few pics and then turns round and jumps in an energetic fashion about a distance of about two feet onto the trunk of her tree and heads north.

Wiruna Lucky
From koalawrangler's gallery.

On the way out, I notice Wiruna Lucky squatting on her gunyah like a kid. She's waiting for Cheryle to bring her some fresh leaf.

Peter comes out with feed pots for Bellevue Bill and Oxley Jo. I know that Bill is a favourite of Emma's so offer her his feedpot. I head in to see little Jo. She's sleeping but wakes when I enter. She looks merely curious, not alarmed. She's getting used to our being around. I don't recall Jo's ever being fed before so I wonder how she'll go. I let a few drops dribble onto her lips to see if she likes the taste, but it's like she doesn't know what to do with it. The formula spills down her arm and settles in pearl-like droplets on her fur.

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I give up on the feeding part but need to tend to her fur. Koalas don't like the formula on their fur for long. I hold the damp face washer out towards Jo and she sniffs at it curiously. I move the washer gently around her little mouth and down her arm. She doesn't mind this too much and most of the droplets are cleaned off.

Jim asks if we need any help and I suggest he can start on Anna Bay Sooty's aviary if he likes. I carry on cleaning Jo's unit. She's wedged in her fork so I roll back the towel at the other end and tie on a new one, getting it as close to her as possible. I clean out one leaf pot; she's not touched much of her leaf from yesterday. When I return she's still at the tree-fork end. I need her to move, but don't want to rush her. Emma comes in to help and holds up the overhaning leaf for her to retreat into. I gently tug at the towel beneath her and she grunts a little before moving away. We get the new towel on the other side, before she gets ideas about moving back.


Bellevue Bill's tick
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I follow Emma into Bellevue Bill's unit to get some more string, as I'm a few inches short. Bill's looking lethargic too. I know he's not doing very well either. Another beautiful koala to send good vibes to. Emma finds a miniscule tick on Bill, which she gives to me to process while she finishes Bill's gunyah.

Where the ticks go
From koalawrangler's gallery.

When I return with Jo's second leaf pot, she's chewing on her leaf, which I'm glad to see. At least some food interests her. I roll up her paper -- there's some poop so she's processing the leaf at least. As an occupant of this aviary, she couldn't be more different than Ellenborough Nancy. Nancy was a koala you never wanted to turn your back to. She was unpredictable and a bit crotchetty. She'd often range around her aviary or climb onto the wire mesh. Jo, on the other hand, sits there like a doll staring up at you with her big brown eyes. I relay the paper and deposit the new water and dirt Jim has kindly prepared, and big her adieu. Let's not say goodbye; let's just say au revoir.

In the dayroom, I see that Anna Bay Miles is to be released shortly back to his home range on the central coast. I joke to Robyn that I'm off to Sydney on Friday so could drop Miles off on the way.

I also notice some rather sobering instructions next to Anna Bay Sooty's entry on the whiteboard. Apparently, she had some eye surgery on Friday to remove her third eyelid, which is sometimes necessary when treating conjunctivitis. Because of the anaesthetic, it's possible that Sooty's body may reject the pinkie (unfurred joey) she's carrying. The volunteers are to observe her over the next few days to see whether the pinkie is hanging out of her pouch or even on the ground. There's no point and in trying to push the pinkie back in the pouch; the mother's given up on it so that won't work. Amazingly, the pinkie can be saved with the use of a humidicrib if it's placed in one in good time. There's also a young-joey specialist in town who can be called in for assistance. According to Jim, Sooty was very very quiet, but fortunately everything seems to be intact in the pouch department.

We start talking about Sooty's name. I assumed she was named after the British toy bear, Sooty. They're not sure who I mean. I start telling Emma and Robyn about how he used to wear tartan trousers, but a quick google reveals that Sooty was actually a glove puppet who therefore didn't even wear trousers. (It must have been Rupert Bear's trousers I was putting Sooty in). Wikipedia says that Sooty never spoke so maybe that's her name because she's so quiet. You could say I'm fascinated with koala etymology.

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

Hospital for...possums?

Anna Bay Miles
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I wasn't able to fend off the non-koala part of my life the last two Thursdays and so missed my koala shift on both those days. (I told Amanda in advance, of course.) So today I'm back giving the understudy teamleader thing a go.

Anna Bay Miles is now in an outside yard looking positively glowing in the morning sun. He is a changed koala. I remember having his wet bottom resting against my smock while Cheyne fed him on the treatment bench. There was quite a stink coming from his wet bottom. His fur was discoloured which can occur when a koala is very unwell. I remember the strange blonde colour of Dunbogan Val's fur, a little koala I encountered when I first started working at the hospital.

As Amanda and I walk about with our leaf chart, I realise that Linksy has moved from yard 9a to his own digs in yard 4, so there'll be no more adorable scenes of joey love between him and Kimmy for us to fawn over.

Jackie greets me with the rhetorical "another beautiful day in heaven" -- I have to agree with her.

Ocean Therese
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I'm in yard 10 with Vanessa. Golfer is down on his gunyah for a change so I start to feed him, while Vanessa feeds Sandfly Jye. As Golfer feeds, I notice an indentation in his fur. It's a huge tick pulsing near the skin. It's on his arm, so I don't want to risk digging for it. Andrea's doing her rounds in the yard. I ask her to pull it off while I distract him with formula. Even with the distraction, he takes a swipe at a Andrea. She's too quick for him though and comes away wielding the full tick in her fingers.

Ocean Therese is in fine form. She reaches out for me, gently swiping for attention. Beatrice is also helping in the yard. She tells me that Jye is doing something strange. He's sitting in the corner of his yard again, looking like a yogi in the lotus position.

Oxley Jo is curled up like a baby bunting (with the fur wrap built in). She regards me sleepily.


Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I mention Jye's behaviour to Cheyne and Andrea in the treatment room. Cheyne says it's important to bring it to their attention if we think the koalas are doing something strange. Andrea thinks it's because Jye's bored; he's on the last phase of his treatment and is just marking time before release back into the wild.

We have an early tea break in the dayroom. I ask Andrea about a few of the other patients. I'm concerned about the beautiful Bellevue Bill and his kidney damage. Innes Tony has kidney damage too, but his prognosis doesn't seem to be as poor as Bill's. Fortunately it's not curtains yet for Bill though; he may yet turn a corner.

I ask the other vollies if anyone has seen Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan. The scene where Borat tries to capture Pamela Anderson in his wedding sack reminded in a comically exaggerated way of koala-bagging (although when we do it, it's a lot less rough!).


Watch Borat bag Pamela!
Provided by Flixster
Actually, when we bag koalas in the hospital, it's usually for their comfort. Sometimes it's easier to feed a newcomer koala by securing the mouth of the bag around their face, or it the bag can be used to shield the koala from something unpleasant like an injection.

Reading the daybook, I see that Jupiter Cheryl and Kennedy Easy have both been released!

Just as I walk out the door towards my car, I hear a voice demanding if I work at the hospital. I turn to see a chap walking towards me with some urgency, carrying a plastic garbage bag before him. He tells me, "I've got a sick animal, but I'm not sure what it is". I usher him quickly into the hospital, calling Cheyne and Andrea to assist. It turns out to be a ringtail possum wrapped in a towel. Cheyne gently examines it while Amanda quickly mixes up some rehydrating liquid to feed the little fellow. As Cheyne checks it over, the long tail curls around the little body. Cheyne gently twirls it away, rewraps it in the towel and places it in carboard box. As with koalas, it's better to hide a hurt animal from the light.

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

Easy like Sunday morning

Tightening two strings with both hands around the middle of the gunyah, I suddenly fancy I'm lacing a corset...albeit a skinny terry-toweling corset on a long wooden beam that has a koala attached to it. Hmmm, what would Freud say?

Kennedy Easy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I had written in the daybook that I wouldn't be in today. Then I wound up back in Port after a briefer-than-expected trip to Sydney, so I arrived at the hospital "unannounced", as it were.

I drop off my newspapers and notice a few new names on the mini whiteboards in ICU. One darling girl is Kennedy Easy who was found in a yard with a dog! She's not snuggled into her leaf as most of the other ICU patients are, but peering out into the corridor, and at me as I walk past. She looks quite peaceful. They've only got her in for observation. Right now though, she's observing me.

Pete says I'm to help Cheryle in yard 9. I've met Cheryle a few times before; I used to wonder if she was somehow 'related' to Jupiter Cheryl (eg, was involved in her rescue), but they spell their names differently :)

Cheryle's just coming out of the babies' yard with a bunch of leaf. The babies (Linksy and Kimmy) are frolicking around on the their gunyah, wide-eyed, and looking for fresh leaf. Cheryle has already done most of the recycle in the main yard. It's just a question of feeding and sweeping now.

Bonny Fire is up her tree. There's a little bit of concern as she hasn't been coming down much lately to be fed. She's one of the older girls, so it's important for her to be fed her supplement. Pete also wants to check on the thing they spied between one of her toes last Sunday. Perhaps it wasn't a tick after all, but a funny sort of skin tag.

Lucky is wandering around the edge of the yard, near the corner she seems to favour: near the graves of Perch Miracle and Cloud, two of the hospital's most cherished permanent-resident koalas. Cheryle grabs Lucky's feedpot and heads her way, calling out to her gently so as not to scare her. I head for Birthday Girl's gunyah and try to locate her in the foliage. She's deeply buried under an arched sweep of leaf, so I crouch beneath it to share the sanctuary of her cubby hole. As she looks up at me, her grey face is speckled golden brown from the sun filtering through the leaves. She takes the syringe gently, with none of the urgency of the younger koalas. She knows her meal's a sure thing.

Cheryle carries on with the recycle while I rake the poop on the astroturf. There are one or two runnier patches, which is unusual for koala poo. Cheryle says that Lucky seems to be suffering from a bit of diarrhoea.

With the main yards raked, I set off to sweep out the babies' yard. All I can see is an impossibly white bottom poking through the leafy gunyah.



Then she sits up and takes notice -- why, it's Ocean Kim!


It's hard to clean in a yard with the most gorgeous koala specimens so nearby. They're kids and their hungry and they know we generally come bearing food. They're I wander around the gunyah to see what Linksy's up to. He's making a good meal of yesterday's remaining nicholii.


Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I wrench myself free of the joeys' grasp (of cuteness) to replenish the numerous water bowls around the main part of the yard. Lucky Wiruna is still on the ground but is making her way over to the gunyah. Surprisingly, Birthday Girl has switched gunyahs -- from her usual one near the joeys, over to the main gunyah configuration that Lucky and Bonny typically share. When I tell Cheryle about it, she's surprised (and impressed!) that Birthday Girl still has the agility to climb. She's an old koala and suffers from arthritis.

Ellenborough Nancy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

We're now waiting for fresh leaf so I wander over to yard 10 where Jim and Emma are. I'm keen to see how Ellenborough Nancy is settling in at her new digs in Links Lorna's old yard. (I also wonder how little Eepy is doing out in the wild). Ocean Therese is sleeping curled up on her gunyah, Tractive Golfer is chewing at yesterday's leaf. Oxley Jo is snuggled up in her leaf as well. Emma is feeding Sandfly Jye and Jim is cleaning Ocean Roy's pots. I ask how the new third pot is going. We installed these (with sticky tape!) last Sunday. Apparently, some have slipped down a little, but generally they are doing their job of providing a extra shelter on these less shady yards. An additional problem which we didn't anticipate during our feasibility study and cost-benefit analysis (ie two minutes' of conversation last Sunday) is the poop factor. We knew that the fixed pots could not be removed for thorough cleaning; they would have to be squirted clean with a hose. We also didn't count on the koalas using the third pot as an ersatz tree trunk and pooping into them. Jim wants to try to obtain some more metal pot brackets and afix them to the gunyah properly.

Ocean Roy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I look in on Ellenborough Nancy. I'm glad they gave the room upgrade to Nancy. She's a koala who would really appreciate the shift from the aviaries to here. It's wonderful to see her outside in the sun and out of the shadows. She looks different; her eye, to my untrained one, looks completely cured, compared to the weepy left eye she came in with. I glance over to Ocean Roy. He suddenly demonstrates one of those unexpected leaps that koalas are capable of -- about two metres straight off his gunyah to the ground. It takes Jim and me by surprise. Roy's just doing a perimeter check of his yard. I yoo-hoo him at him and he looks up, bleached white by the sun.

Calwalla Bill
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

The leaf arrives and we quickly replenish the outside yards before starting inside in ICU. I've got Calwalla Bill, the koala who swiped at Helen the other week. I'm not going to be complacent about doing his unit; I'll keep out of his way and hopefully he'll keep out of mine. He's down the left of his gunyah so I replace the towel at the right, leaving a long string dangling at in the middle in preparation for the next towel. I give him some lovely wet leaf down the right end and he ambles down towards it, unfortunately positioning himself right in the centre of the gunyah.

I manage to secure the new towel on the left side now, but can't finish the job with Bill's butt right above my head (where I need to tie the final knot). I concentrate on the rest of his gunyah -- sweeping up newspaper, mopping the floor (darting looks at him all the while) and relaying the paper. I may as well not exist for all the attention I'm getting from Bill -- he's gobbling up his new leaf. Finally, he shuffles in a bit further and I can tie of the loose strings. Tightening two strings with both hands around the middle of the gunyah, I suddenly fancy I'm lacing a corset...albeit a skinny terry-toweling corset on a long wooden beam that has a koala attached to it. Hmmm, what would Freud say?

Oxley Nina
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

Peter and Emma are both working on Oxley Nina (a newcomer)'s gunyah. She was brought in after a motor vehicle accident (her nose and chin look a little grazed). It's suspected that she may be harbouring a joey in her pouch. Like many koalas, she's not interested in moving around her gunyah to allow fresh towelling to be laid down -- not even moving in the direction of new leaf. It becomes a team effort -- just as Emma lures Nina northwards up the fork bisecting her gunyah, I wack the towel down which Peter then adroitly ties on.

In the dayroom having the post-shift cuppa, I check out some of the changes afoot since I was last in. I'm saddened to discover that Nulla Sam's swelling was the result of an infected dog bite. Koalas are non-aggressive and non-treatening animals, making them vulnerable to such attacks...and therefore undeservingly so! I also notice that Bellevue Bill's prognosis is now listed as poor -- his kidneys have become affected. Bill is such a sweet boy, and young(ish). I'll keep my fingers crossed for him.

More optimistically, I see that there have been a few releases: Hindman Foxie (who has a joey in her pouch) and Oxley Westi (the one with the protruding eyes). A koala has been admitted and released in the days since I last worked at the hospital. Her name is Dunbogan Tracy (after one of the international vollies here) and she looks like such a cutie! You can also read what Tracy and Chris had to say about her here.

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

Furry buddha

As I enter, Condon Geoff is seated behind a veil of uneaten Swamp Mahogany and naked leaf fronds looking like a koala version of Buddha. He stares at me beatifically from his verdant mount as I start to rake up his soggy newspaper and the random smattering of poo, like so many spent shell casings.

Oceanview Terry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I'm doing a Monday shift for the first time; they thought they'd be down on numbers so they called me in. Koalawrangler to the rescue (not). I'm paired with Jarrod to do yards 4, 5, and 6: Burraneer Henry (who I haven't seen on terra firma in quite a while), Kempsey Carolina and the babies (joeys Siren Gem and Lake Christmas [whom I've also never seen other than as a fuzzy blob on high]).

I can't resist popping my head in yard 9 to see if O'Briens Fiona is on the move. As usual, she's scuttling around begging for formula. I ask Geoff if he'd like some made up; I retire to the dayroom and beat up her double-dose of formula. By the time I get to yard 9, she's up a tree again. Fickle Fiona.

Kempsey Carolina
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I set out to feed our Kempsey, the blind permanent resident of yard 5 who never knocks back a feed. She's more dribblepuss than usual today, or maybe I'm just used to feeding koalas these days who are better at keeping it in their mouths. I do everything I can to keep the syringe high in the air, as Amanda first showed me. There's also the little trick of holding the syringe there once it's empty to encourage her to keep swallowing; the minute she lowers her head it all starts to slop out. Drops end up running down her chin, on her fur, on her leaf, on me. I manoeuvre the pot so that it's directly under her chin and this catches some of the run-off. As I fill the syringe, I notice little flecks of green: leaf pulp has mixed itself in with her dribbled formula.

At these close quarters, I find myself looking at Kempsey's eyes. Koala eyes are brown with a black almond-shape set vertically like a cat's. Kempsey's right eye is completely absent; all that remains is a sunken warp in the fur where the eye once was. I remember one of the uni vets telling me that the dead eye is worked out by the body (a case of abjection, if there ever was one); it heals over cleaner than any suture. Kempsey's left eye is intact, but blind. Instead of the almond cat's iris, there is a dun-coloured disc like a brown dilated pupil.

Dribbling aside, Kempsey is a pleasure to feed. She doesn't behave like the other, wild, koalas. She seems to have succumbed readily to her five-star care at the hospital. She accepts back scratches and chin tickles without resistance. Even wiping her face with a wet washer following her feed is a breeze compared to the other patients who usually move their face from side to side to avoid it: imagine the irritated face of a child submitting to having its face wiped by an overzealous mother.

Jarrod has finished in yards 4 and 6, so I duck my head into the aviaries to see if I can lend a hand. There are still three aviaries to do so I elect to clean the non-wet-bottoms, since I'm heading back into the healthy koalas yards again later when the new leaf arrives. Condon Geoff is in an aviary undergoing post-treatment monitoring. It seems that he has been successfully treated and, all going well, will be released soon. I'm especially pleased for him since he was the koala who seemed among the keenest to leave ICU.


Oceanview Terry
From koalawrangler's gallery.
As I enter, he's seated behind a veil of uneaten Swamp Mahogany and naked leaf fronds looking like a koala version of Buddha. He stares at me beatifically from his verdant mount as I start to rake up his soggy newspaper and the random smattering of poo, like so many spent shell casings.

I keep out of his way, taking the other leaf pot, emptying it, scrubbing out the leaf scum and refilling it in preparation for the fresh leaf. After the recent rain, the dirt comes up in moist chunks with the trowel. I refill his water bowl and turn to leaf.


Bellevue Bill
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Bellevue Bill gets sight of me from the aviary opposite. He stalks along his gunyah towards me like I have something he's after. Bill gets fed each day by the uni researchers. They're trialling him with some oral medication so perhaps he thinks I might have some tucker for him.

Oceanview Terry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Next I start on Oceanview Terry. He's down the far end of his gunyah, completely swathed in leaf. He looks like he wants to be alone, so I leave him be and start on his floor. Not having a towel to replace on the gunyah is lot more koala-friendly. You can pretty much keep out of their way. Unexpectedly, Terry decides to break through the leafy veneer and see what I'm up to. He scrambles along the gunyah adeptly like a tightrope walker, restlessly looking for fresh leaf. It must make them anxious, not being able to search out new leaf when they're ready. Still, they get it handed to them on a platter each morning, so that's the next best thing.

I'm crouched on the ground relaying Terry's paper. I look up and he's staring down at me quizzically. I wonder what they make of the daily ablutions we carry out for them. It's a hospital, so they get fresh water, dirt, leaf and floor coverings every day, 365 days a year. I tell him the leaf won't be long now.

Melaleuca
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

Time for a quick cuppa until Chris comes in and tells us the leaf's ready. He tells anyone who's listening that he's brought in a special lot of melaleuca for Anna Bay Miles. Miles is from Newcastle way, so it's a leaf he particularly likes. Apparently, when they had melaleuca earlier in the week, he wolfed down the bottlebrush-like flowers whole. Anything to build up his strength. I had seen Cheyne feeding him earlier on and mentioned to her that I'd seen him gnawing on his right knee yesterday. She hadn't heard about the behaviour so made a point of noting it down as something to watch for. It could signal some pain in that leg or his teeth.

With the leaf ready to go, we go back to the outside yards. Kempsey is ranging about on her gunyah so I feed her first, followed by the joeys. Next I fill Condon Geoff's empty pot. He gradually moves across to it, but tramples over the old leaf as he goes. I try gingerly to remove the old pot so that I can refill it with new leaf, but he eeps in protest. Okay, be that way. I remove the pot and leave behind the leaf he's sitting on, until he's distracted enough with eating the new leaf for me to whip the old out from under him.

Siren Gem
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I notice through the fence that Siren Gem is down in yard 6. Yippee! I get to feed him, which I've not done before. I go into the yard and he reaches out to me. He knows I have the potential to provide formula. I nip back to the dayroom and mix it up. He's reaching out for it by the time I get back. In between the syringes, his little tongue bobs in and out. Joeys are so compliant compared to their adult counterparts; having been raised in captivity, they aren't bothered by humans so long as we leave them be...and feed them on demand!

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

Distracting Jo

In both units I discover little caches of koala poo tucked into corners or squeezed under the wooden beams. Koala surprise!

Lookout Harry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Today I'm back in the aviaries, which is fine since I've not mucked these out for a while. Tricia and Danae are in yard 9, Paul's doing yards 1-3 and Ross is in yard 10 on his own, which he prefers. Amanda is training up John, who usually does data entry in the office; they're doing yards 5 and 6. Amanda tells me not to do Lookout Harry's aviary since he's being moved to a yard; no point in bothering him if he's going to new digs. This leaves three other units: Oceanview Terry, Bellevue Bill and da da da daaa Ellenborough Nancy. I always seem to leave Nancy till last for some reason...

Just before I start on Terry, Jo the vet calls to me for a hand with Oxley Jo. Many of the koalas on the Sydney uni drug trials get shots administered by the vets. Oxley Jo has this habit of not taking her eyes off you the whole time you're in her yard; her eyes follow you like those old paintings in gothic horror stories... This makes it hard to administer her medication. Jo wants me to 'distract' Oxley Jo while she gives her the shot. Ulp! Okay.

Predictably, Oxley Jo twists her little head to follow vet Jo when she enters the yard. But I've complicated matters by bringing up the rear; there's one of us front and back: she doesn't know which way to look. I start acting like a crazy woman, waving my arms in front of her face and going "la la la la" -- anything to keep her focused on me. When she turns towards vet Jo, I gently touch her paws and to keep her facing the front. It's all over as quickly as it's begun, but I tell Jo that she's still foiled my hopes of winning Oxley Jo over for good.

Back in the aviaries, Terry is conveniently down on the left by his leaf pot. This leaves me free to clean down the other end. Water and dirt put out the door, check. One leaf pot emptied and scrubbed, check. Poopy paper raked up and in the bin, check. Fortunately, his gunyah doesn't need a towel so it's a fast turnaround.

Jarrod has finished yard 4 and so starts in the aviaries. I'm out dumping some old leaf in the skip and return to find him rolling up Lookout Harry's paper. I quickly let him know that we're leaving him till last due to his impending move. Jarrod starts on Bellevue Bill.

I go into the day-room for a swig of water and see Cheyne in the treatment room with a sickly looking koala. He's sitting on the treatment table lapping up formula from a syringe. I remark that he looks so tame; Cheyne says that "tame" is never a term you want to find yourself using about a wild koala. It's Anna Bay Miles, the one whose diagnosis is "debilitated". He keeps backing away from the syringe so I step in to stand behind him and keep him on the bench. He's a wet bottom and the smell is overpowering. I really hope he'll be able to turn a corner, but the prognosis isn't good. Cheyne suggests I take off my smock, which has been pressed against Miles' wet bottom, to prevent infecting any of the other koalas.


Anna Bay Miles
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Jo comes into the aviaries to medicates the required koalas. Lookout Harry is unimpressed. Ellenborough Nancy is placid, but swings around at the last minute and prevents Jo from finishing the dose. I wouldn't want to take Nancy on when she's got a grump on. Now it's time for me to brave Ellenborough Nancy's unit. Ulp. She's actually in the corner, against the wall, which allows me to completely strip one side of her gunyah and replace the towel. The leaf isn't ready yet so most of the team takes an early tea break.

When I return with newspaper for Nancy's floor, she's still down the unclean end. I decide to wait till she moves of her own accord with the lure of fresh leaf before tackling the remaining towel. We learn that the leaf has arrived and suddenly all the racks are full of fluffy leaf and everyone is clipping away. Amanda is giving John her usual rigorous leaf-cutting tuition. I ask John if this is his first day in the yards, after his indoor duties. I tell him that this is the cutting edge of koala-wranging. "At the coal-face", he says". The koala-face, more like :)


Ellenborough Nancy
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Nancy finally moves so I can finish her gunyah. When I go in to stock up Oceanview Terry's leaf, he's still hovering around the remaining leaf pot. I talk to him quietly and gently brush his back so he knows I'm there. I reach for his leaf pot and startle him (despite what I thought was a huge build-up!). For one horrifying second, it looks like he's about to fall off his perch; instead he swivels from on top of the gunyah to beneath it, hanging on grimly. Oh no, I've knocked a sick koala off his gunyah! Well, not knocked, but frightened perhaps. Poor fellow! He climbs back up without incident, but I give him losts of fluffy wet leaf to compensate.

Lookout Harry is roaming around his unit; he's probably after some fresh leaf. He keeps standing on his hind legs and peering through the mesh. Lookout Harry, on the lookout. Amanda comes to retrieve him in a bag and shift him to yard 10. All that remains is for his aviary to be given a full clean. I need to check with Amanda exactly what is involved. I check with Jackie in ICU whether I can help with the units in there. Sandfly Jye has been moved so his unit needs a full clean also. I start mopping with bleach water, the walls and skirting boards. It's hard work.

I take a tea break in the dayroom and flick through the post-mortem reports which the vets file in a plastic binder for the vollies' information. Through it, I learn that Melaleuca Alfie, the one with damaged genitals from where a car clipped him, has been euthanased. He was such a bright koala; it's hard to see his life cut short. I ask Jo why these are called "necropsy" reports and not "autopsy". It's because the prefix "auto-" means "self"; a human carrying out a post-mortem on another person is an autopsy since they are the same species. Necropsies are carried out on other species.

I finish mopping Sandfly Jye's unit and soak his pots, broom and dust-pan in bleach and water. I do the same for Lookout Henry's aviary. Mopping out the aviary is even harder work that the unit. The mop is almost too long, yet I have to negotiate it around the walls, which are covered in mud from Harry's antics. In both units I discover little caches of koala poo tucked into corners or squeezed under the wooden beams. Koala surprise!

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

Lurking

It's funny how much of an outsider I feel, standing on the other side of the wire wearing clean clothes and without my koala smock and customary haze Aeroguard.

Ross retrieving Warrego Martin
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Today I'm volunteering at Roto House, a restored 19th century homestead on the same grounds as the koala hospital. I can't resist popping in to the koala hospital to see how the koalas are. I'm immediately bowled over by the The heady eucalyptus odour that hits me as soon as I get out of the car. It's humid today. I already feel inadequately dressed and out of place with my non-koalawrangling clothes on.

I see Peter and Geoff in yard 3 replacing a gunyah (not the koalas Macquarie Peter and Condon Geoff, but the human, wrangler variety). Apparently it was infested with ants. O'Briens Fiona has been temporarily shifted to yard 1 while they install the new beam. I ask Peter what else is new. They managed to recapture Bellevue Bill who was AWOL up a tree in yard 10. He's now in ICU again. I also ask whether Fiona has been behaving herself. The answer is "no": they found her next door in Innes Wonga's yard that morning! She's a wiley critter! Fiona is fine, but Wonga needs a Bex and a lie-down.

I walk over to yard 10. Ross is there. He says it's his last day (again) as he's starting a job. He'll miss the koalas. I'm chatting to him over Warrego Martin's yard, but there's no sign of the koala. Ross points upward. Martin has crawled up the umbrella and is sitting in the spokes like it's an elaborate tree-fork. Ross gently removes the umbrella from its slot and tilts it to the ground. Martin clings on regardless then finally crawls free.

It's funny how much of an outsider I feel, standing on the other side of the wire wearing clean clothes and without my koala smock and customary haze of Aeroguard. I peer down towards yard 9 and see a koala roaming around on the ground. I wander down for a closer look. It's Wiruna Lucky again. She's wandering around the graves of Perch Miracle and Cloud that occupy a corner of the yard. The gothic romantic in me wonders if she's paying some sort of ritual tribute. Emma's suggestion is that she's lonely now that the Old Girls' network has diminished. Ocean Therese, a long-term inhabitant of yard 9 only recently moved to yard 10a. Of course, it can't be that: koalas are lone creatures, but it's hard not to imprint their behaviour with our own values.


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

Setting a koala trap

Just then Barb announces that three new koalas are being brought in: one motor vehicle accident and two wet bottoms. She asks me to set up three new units in ICU, which fills ICU to capacity.

Koala trap
From koalawrangler's gallery.

It's the Sunday shift and I'm assiged the aviaries...that is until Peter realises I've done the aviaries two shifts running and might just be suffering aviary burnout. He gives me yard 10 instead. I head off there and am shortly joined by Beatrice, a volunteer I haven't met before. I recognise her name though. She's the one who witnessed the Bellevue Bill making his way into Links Lorna's boudoir one evening. Bill, by the way, had been re-released to a smaller yard in yard 10. He promptly knocked over his umbrella, scaled the wall and headed north up the nearest tree in the main part of yard 10. Currently, he and Tractive Golfer are up adjacent trees. The umbrellas are designed for shelter, but some koalas have other plans for them. It's a matter of determining which koalas will use them for the former and which for the latter.

Beatrice and I carry on in yard 10. We had to wait until one of the vets came to check the leaf and poop and take poop samples, so we start on the non-research koalas: Ocean Therese and Tractive Golfer. Both are high up their respective trees so neither can be fed yet. I'm sorting out Golfer's recycle and Beatrice is on Therese's leaf. We split the remaining sub-yards between us: I've got Macquarie Peter and Warrego Martin, my two favourite boys; while Beatrice has Links Lorna and Tozer Tom. We finish here quickly, which is good, since Beatrice has to go out on a rescue. One of the smaller yards in yard 10 has to be set up for Oxley Jo to move into; Jim says he'll look after that.

Warrego Martin
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I head into ICU where Ian is still working on the time-consuming wet-bottom side. I see that Oxley Westi's unit still needs to be cleaned so I set about doing that. Just then Barb announces that three new koalas are being brought in: one motor vehicle accident and two wet bottoms. She asks me to set up three new units in ICU, which fills ICU to capacity.

There is already a koala in the ICU treatment room, sealed in a rescue basket. I get moving cutting new leaf, filling water bowls and dirt containers, laying newspaper. They bring in the motor vehicle accident victim, Melaleuca Alfie. He is an amazingly calm koala. He sits on the treatment table without a bag or any kind of restraint, sipping the fluid Peter syringes into his mouth. When I enter the room to take a photo, he turns his head and follows me with his eyes. What an adorable, trusting fellow. It turns that his genitals were injured in the car accident. He may have trouble urinating.

Melaleuca Alfie
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I'm finishing the new units when I see another koala in the treatment room. This one is named Cattlebrook John. He was found sitting on the ground, listless and unmoving. It's not certain what has caused his lethargy. He's still nestled in his rescue basket, sort of lounging back into it. When Andrea tries to examine him closer, he ducks out from under her. He doesn't want to move but he doesn't want to be touched either. When they put him in his unit, the leaf pots are moved to the floor and he stays in the basket.

I run into Lorna in the dayroom. She hands me my name badge which was on order and has now arrived. Now I'm official and the koalas will be able to call me by name :)

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

Fiona's great escape

Of all the koalas I've dealt with here I'm convinced Ellenborough Nancy has a personal vendetta against me. I've had miffed expressions and eeps and flicky ears, but Nancy's the only one who's ever taken a full-on swipe.

Bonny Fire
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Well, it's Thursday again, which means it's koala time! Amanda is mixing formula in the staff-room as I walk in. I've brought some newspapers from home so I take them through ICU to the newspaper box.

I'm removing staples from the Good Weekend when Amanda tears past me and grabs a basket. There must be a rescue afoot. Then Andrea dashes through toting a koala-nabbing bag. I walk into the dayroom to see what's happened. An as-yet-unidentified koala is wandering around outside its yard (but still in the main part of the hospital) and Amanda and Andrea have gone off to bag it. It could be a wild koala from outside paying the koalas inside a visit (it' happened before); or it could be an inside koala trying to get out. I greet the smiling pair at the door triumphantly carrying a koalaful bag between them. Amanda is exultant and does a happy dance.

In the treatment room, we discover that the koala has a tag so it's one of ours. There were no koalas missing from any of the yards when Amanda did her rounds this morning. Amanda is finding the koala log books and Andrea asks me to delve into the bag and check the tag number on its ear. I gutlessly decline, saying I'm not yet experienced with hand-to-hand koala-wrangling. But I conjecture that it could be O'Briens Fiona, of Fiona Houdini fame. Amanda is certain that she saw a koala in yard 2 (Fiona's yard) not half an hour ago. When Fiona was brought back in during the week, she'd been rehoused in yard 2 which is the corner yard. They'd deliberately avoided putting her in that yard previously when she was released from ICU since she was an obvious flight risk. Amanda and I are scouring the log books for no.736 and BINGO! It's that wiley O'Briens Fiona after all. Andrea and Amanda decide to keep her in a rescue basket for the time-being until they decide what to do with her. I'm wondering when she's going to escape from a straitjacket and handcuffs while housed in a padlocked box underwater, like I saw Tony Curtis do in a movie once.

I've been allocated the "girls" of yard 9 with Tricia, a bubbly woman whom I remember tending lovingly to Cloud when she was ICU, way back on my first shift. We start the feeding first. Tricia takes Bonny Fire; Wiruna Lucky is ensconsed up a tree. I tend to Birthday Girl who feeds quickly and easily. She's currently sharing her gunyah with a kookaburra who's stopped by.

Tricia is having some trouble with Bonny who keeps wandering off during feeding. I look around in time to see Bonny scamper awkwardly up the wooden beam that connects the gunyah to the nearest tree which currently houses Lucky Wiruna. She then obviously decides better of it and backs her way back down for more food. Bonny isn't keeping up with the rate the formula's being squirted in so it starts to dribble down her chin. White droplets bespeckle her front and hind paws, sitting on on top of her springy fur like dew.

There's an extended T-shaped gunyah in yard 9 as well as a stand-alone gunyah that Birthday Girl generally calls home. This means lots of poop-raking and scooping. Tricia is dealing with yesterday's recycled leaf and watering their water dishes. I look over towards yard 6, the joey yard, and there's Siren Gem perched atop her roof like a cherry on an icecream. He's on his own now, since naughty Woody was released. The word in the yard is that he's not gaining weight as readily as the staff would like. He's probably traumatised after the bullying he copped from the other joey, Lady Nelson Woody. Oh well, enough star-struck joey-adoration: there's plenty of work to do here.

Siren Gem
From koalawrangler's gallery.

There are seven leaf pots in this yard. Back in the day-room, Cheyne and Amanda agreed that we should reduce the girls' supply to two bundles of fresh leaf (divided into four pots) and two pots of recycled (that is, yesterday's) leaf. As there's only one leaf rack in yard 9, I head out to find another rack I can use for cutting up my bundle. Just before I do, there's a splashing sound; I turn and half expect to see a koala washing its face in a water trough. No, it's a magpie that's dunked itself in the freshly filled water. It's fluttering its wings and sloshing water everywhere like it's in a wading pool.

There's also yard 9a to do. That's the small, circular yard that occupies one corner of yard 9 and houses the babies Links VTR and Ocean Kim. Kimmy is wrapped around the tree while Links is predictably down on his gunyah, nestled in leaf. Then, to my delight, Linksy starts climbing. He gets as far as Kimmy so that at one point they're both wrapped around the same bit of tree, but on opposite sides, circumscribing the trunk with their paws. Then Links keeps climbing! He settles in a spot above Kimmy, the highest I've seen him go. Not to be outdone, however, Kim moves past him and Links returns to the lower branches, his excitement over for one day. This is exciting since Links hardly ever climbs since he fell from the tree in the joey yard.

Ocean Kim & Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.

After yard 9, Amanda suggests I help Jarrod in the aviaries. He's just about finished Oceanview Terry and is about to start on Oxley Jo. Jo is the baby-faced one who stared at me the whole time I cleaned her aviary last time; the vet staff were worried that she wasn't eating her leaf, but judging by the amount of poo on the ground she's eating well.

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

With Terry and Jo being done, this leaves Lookout Harry and...ulp...Ellenborough Nancy, the headcase. Of all the koalas I've dealt with here I'm convinced this one has a personal vendetta against me. I've had miffed expressions and eeps and flicky ears, but Nancy's the only one who's ever taken a full-on swipe. She always regards me with what looks like menace. (Although since her conjunctivitus is improving, she doesn't look quite as grumpy as before). Cheyne, the hospital supervisor, says we shouldn't 'project' human feelings onto the koalas (because they're probably wrong), but I can't help it with this one.

Even Lookout Harry is demonstrating fruitloop behaviour, climbing the mesh walls of his aviary and stalking about his cage like, well, a caged animal. Hmm, knew that metaphor came from somewhere. He's overturned his water bowl and his dirt bowl, coating his floor in a muddy sludge. I grab some of last night's unused leaf, dampen it down and add it to his pot to calm him down.

With Bill preoccupied, I decide to do Nancy's aviary first to get it out of the way. Nancy is on the ground when I enter. In some ways, this is good since it means that her gunyah is free to retowel. In other ways, this is bad since you're in an enclosed space with a slightly crazy animal pacing the floor. In fact, as soon as I unravel the towel, she grabs it using what looks like a ninja move -- all scissoring paws (and, I embellish, gnashing teeth). I decide she can have that towel if she wants it. I toss the towel towards her and she continues to claw at it. I quickly try to cut the string holding the old towel onto the gunyah and replace it with the new towel. This means I still need another towel (one's not long enough, you always need two). Nancy has one and she's not about to give it up. So back to ICU for another towel.

Ellenborough Nancy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

When I return, Nancy is at the door -- in fact, she's attached to the door. There's no way I'm going in there. I decide to finish off Lookout Harry's aviary while Nancy calms down. He's chewing away at the bit of leaf I gave him and taking no notice of me as I rake up his sodden newsprint. He's a wet bottom too so I have to cut and replace his towel. I do my trick of preparing his fresh leaf first so I can coax him towards the newly towelled end. All goes well. Now back to scary Nancy.

She's still at the door as though forbidding me entry. I do a few other chores, like take the leaf pin out to the skip to empty it, before returning to see if Nancy's backed off (literally). Yes, another metaphor in the flesh. Fortunately she's on her gunyah. I assuage her grumpiness with fresh leaf and finish tying her towel. What a relief.

Most people are finished their work now. I have a green tea with Amanda and Jarrad then go and mop down the floor in ICU. Bellevue Bill who was previously in unit 1 but relocated to yard 10 is now back in unit 1. There's a little whiteboard sign outside his unit which usually indicates the patient's name and diagnosis; instead it reads: Bellevue Bill: A very naughty boy. It seems that Bill escaped his outside own yard, made his way through the adjacent yard and then found his way into the neighbouring yard belonging to poor skittish little Links Lorna. I can imagine the prim and proper Miss Lorna eeping in outrage at the prospect of a brutish man-koala breaking into her room!


Amanda has a group of elderly ladies to show around the hospital so she asks me to wash up the feeding pots. Afterwards I make a final check of O'Briens Fiona who's been allocated to an inside yard, yard 1. She's fast asleep, no doubt plotting her next escape attempt in her eucalyptus-fuelled dreams.

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

Innes Wonga

Kempsey is perched out in the middle of her gunyah looking rather exposed without any leaf around her. The recycled pot is down one end and she's sitting in the middle of the beam like a fuzzy, squat tightrope walker.

Innes Wonga
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Peter asked me to come in today, Sunday. I haven't worked Sunday mornings before and I find it has a different vibe to other days. Since I've become a 'regular' (one of the koalarati, perhaps?), I find myself getting things done in record time (assuming I don't have ticks to mark up, which involves lots of doubletracking to and from the dayroom).

Cheryle, who I met at koala rescue training, is allocated to yard 9; Emma whose koala pics I discovered on Flickr is working in the ICU.

There's a guy called Ian doing Kempsey Carolina and the joeys. I've got Innes Wonga and Henry (who's way up his tree). I haven't fed Wonga before, he's the fellow with the arthritic left knee. Anne identifies with Wonga's ailment; she's got an arthritic left knee too.

Wonga must be enjoying her food because they're is a TONNE of poop around her gunyah. I recall Ros having trouble feeding him the other day, but today he drinks it all up like a good little bear. I rake and scoop poop in Wonga's and Henry's yards and make up a new recycled pot from their previous day's leaf. I check in to see how joeys are faring -- they're up in the tree but on adjacent branches so perhaps they've made up after their spat on Friday.

Macquarie Peter From koalawrangler's gallery.

Macquarie Peter From koalawrangler's gallery.

I suggest to Peter that I might go and help Jim in yard 10; it's got six koalas now which is too much for one person. Jim welcomes the help. He says when he arrived the koalas seemed sleepy, like they'd had a big night. I notice they've all got big outdoor umbrellas over their gunyahs to give them additional shelter. They koalas all look damp as it rained heavily in the night and the umbrellas aren't waterproof. They all appear to have woken up now, except Links Lorna who's burrowed into her leaf. Warrego Martin and Macquarie Peter are quite frisky, jumping off their gunyahs and prowling around the perimeters of their yards.

Chris arrives with the leaf so I go to prepare Wonga and Henry's bundles. There's always a rush for the good cutters -- I prefer the smaller ones with the orange handles as they're easier to wield. I'm becoming a dab hand at leaf cutting now.

Once I've finished with Wonga and Henry I notice that Poor Kempsey is perched out in the middle of her gunyah looking rather exposed without any leaf around her. The recycled pot is down one end and she's sitting in the middle of the beam like a fuzzy, squat tightrope walker. I generally try to leave the pot closest to the koala intact so as to disrupt them as little as possible. So, I decide to replenish Kempsey's leaf and then go back to yard 10 to help Jim. I fix Therese's leaf and then head into ICU. There are three types of leaf today; Chris is going back to get a fourth. The koalas need a bit of choice as this is the usual way they feed -- seeking out different types of desirable leaf.

Innes Tony
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Chris's second leaf trip is delayed when Chris and Ellen are dispatched on a rescue go out on rescue. When they return, they've brought a big male in a bag. He was found at the corner of Major Innes and Ruins Way. They call him Innes Tony. He barks.

I talk to Barb who's in the treatment room. Her little Steffi has now developed massive bruising on her entire front, no doubt from her fall. Judy tells me about her little joey, Cathie John, who has wet bottom, which is rare in joeys. The vet says he might have contracted it from the mother's pap, which is unusual.

We talk about koala intelligence and agree that they are intelligent about the things they need to be. Unfortunately, koalas don't see dogs as a threat. That must be why they accept us humans around them. It takes a lot for them to lash out.

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

Joeyz in da hood

We all stare up at the squabbling joeys like it's a sort of punch-and-judy show with live fluffy handpuppets.

Wiruna Lucky
From koalawrangler's gallery.

After having lunch at home with D___, I head back to the koala hospital. I'm a bit tired now. Although, I'm not getting as dog-tired as I did when I first started koala-wrangling back in the day, the mornings are still fatiguing. I'm wearing the same dirt-stained clothes. There are muddy smears up my legs and dirt in the creases of my elbow. I hung my smock over my car seat so at least that's dry.

Wendy is mixing formula. Gwen, the usual team-leader, will be in later. There seems to be quite a few helpers here -- Geoff, Erin the animal science student from the morning shift, Mary from Sundays, Yasmin from Thursdays, and a few others. On Sunday arvo there were only three of us so this seems like a host of thousands by comparison. I ask if I'm superfluous (because I feel like I'd be quite happy to go home and put my feet up at this point), but I'm assured that there'll be plenty for me to do.

I get started on the towels from this morning. They're almost dry but not quite. Wendy has been giving them a quick 'burst' in the dryer to dry them off. Erin is wandering about so I ask her to help me with the washing. Suddenly we hear a commotion in yard 6. The two joeys are not only wide awake (instead of slouched in their trees), they are scampering about the roof of their shelter. I recognise Siren Gem as the one without the ear-tag. The other tagged male is Lady Nelson Woody. At first it seems like they're playing, but then it becomes clear that it's more rough-housing than playing and it's quite one-sided. Gem is sitting at the edge of the roof while Woody is biting at his ear and thwacking him intermittently with his paw. I start calling out (like they'd listen to me...), "hey, that's a bit rough; that's not nice!".


Siren Gem and Lady Nelson Woody
From koalawrangler's gallery.
A crowd is forming outside the yards' wire fence as the tourists wait for the 3pm tour; but the handlers are all standing and gawping at the joeys' shenanigans. Suddenly, Woody stops the attack, turns tail and bounds away to the tree like a rabbit; he scrambles up the tree, looks down for moment then leaps to the roof like he's a sugarglider. He repeats the same process again. Down the tree, over to Gem, whom he gives a bite, a wack and a scratch, then bounds off up the tree. His movements are spritely like a puppy (yes, he's run the gamut of Noah's ark in all of 10 seconds); I'm so used to seeing them wedged in their tree branches unmoving. But I try not to be taken in by his cuteness. Poor Gem is eeping in protest but not fighting back. He just sits still, cornered, awaiting the next onslaught. I decide to take matters into my own hands and race off to get Geoff.

Geoff takes the joey bullying seriously and tears off after me. We all stare up at the squabbling joeys like it's a sort of punch-and-judy show with live fluffy handpuppets. Finally, the joeys separate -- Woody heads east and Gem west. Gem climbs as far out as he can, as far away from Woody as possible. He's hooking his paws and swinging around the slender leafy branch tips in a way that resembles a monkey. He's right at the end of the branch overhanging yard 9 and for a minute we worry that he might fall in. Fortunately, he settles down and reclaims his branch. Geoff says this sort of thing would go on if they were in the wild, where there would be nothing we could do about it. However, in this situation, Woody is a healthy joey who's been fattening up in the koala Club Med for the last few weeks; they're just waiting till he's big enough to release. Gem, on the other hand, is still in R&R.

Woody's been in that yard for at least as long as I've been working at the hospital so he's obviously king joey in da hood. Plus, he's just lost his posse, with Irwin and Lucky being released and Kimmy being reassigned to yard 9A. I'm determined to let Barb or Judy know so they can think about moving the two bully-boys (Burraneer Henry and Woody) in together and leaving Gem to recuperate in peace.

The shift hasn't even really begun and already there's been so much excitement. I start off in yard 9 with Yasmin. I wake Bonny Fire and try to feed her. Unfortunately she's facing towards Birthday Girl who's coming to and looking interested in Bonny's formula. I try to get her to face the other way, towards the tourists but no luck. She keeps stopping her feeding to eat leaf so it takes forever. Yasmin finishes Wiruna Lucky and starts on Birthday Girl. I water the leaf on all the gunyahs then head to the ICU.

Not much needs to be done in there. Cheyne has taken Oxley Westi home for the weekend. An veterinary opthalmologist came in to look at Westi's eyes. Fortunately, he decided that the cream they'd been applying had resulted in some improvement. He recommended continuing with it, but three times a day, which Cheyne said she'd do at home. Westi's unit just needs to be carefully swept. There's a lot of poop on top of the paper. Bellevue Bill also needs to be fed. I ask Erin which she'd rather do; she can't decide.

I go in to feed Bill but he is heartily chewing away at his leaf. I don't want to discourage this as they need to keep their strength up with leaf. I notice that there is a formula pot with his name on it on the window sill. This is obviously from this morning's unsuccessful attempt. I also notice that there is a longish pink thing poking down from his fur. It's his penis! I remember learning on my very first shift that koalas have a freaky bifurcated penis, but this is the first time I've seen one. The top is two-pronged like a serpent's tongue. This warrants some internet investigation, I feel.(What must the Google people think when they get the search query 'koala penis'?).

That night at home, D___ and I are watching 24. I generally ask a lot of rhetorical questions (ie criticisms) during the show, or give a running commentary. Tonight I wonder out loud: "why do they spend so much time on the petty work grievances between the staff in ICU?".

D___ sighs. "It's CTU, not ICU. You have ICU at the koala hospital."

Oh, yeah.

I'm accused of having 'koala brain'. Maybe I won't do back-to-back shifts again.

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

Joeyfest: Links VTR & Ocean Kim

I murmur my little cajoling words -- "possum", "sausage", "precious pie" -- to persuade Links VTR that I'm not trying to blast him off the gunyah with a hose.

Ocean Kim & Barb
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Back on the Friday shift, I walk into the day-room and greet Peter. Barb strolls in casually, a joey clinging to her shoulder like a human baby. It's Ocean Kim who's been having tick trouble lately and has been doing a shift in ICU. You can tell Barb has mothered a few joeys -- the way she walks about the room with Kim cradled comfortably in her arms testifies to years of koala-whispering. She's one of the handlers who does joey home-care. A dirty job but someone's got to do it.

Barb is gently berating Kim for naughtily trying to climb up onto her roof. There's been some changes. Burraneer Henry has moved in with the other joey, Links VTR, in yard 4. Earlier, Ocean Kim had been transferred from ICU to Burraneer Henry's old spot, yard 1A, the joey showcase; but Barb has just found her scaling the tarp and there are fears she might try to escape. She's (supposedly) one of the wild joeys and is used to hanging out in the high trees, regally surveying her audience whenever one gathers beneath her.

Barb sits at the dayroom table and feeds Kim with a syringe. She jokes to Cheyne that she should really be paddling Kim's bottom for being such a naughty koala, but instead she's apparently rewarding such behaviour with a feed of formula. (By the way, I'm certain Barb would no sooner paddle a joey's bottom than cut her own arm off.)

I decide that I could stand by and gush at little Kim all day, but I really should begin my duties. I'm assigned all the joeys today. No feeding unfortunately, but I still get to see them at close-range. Anne says, "so, you've got all the orphans today?". Links is now sharing with Henry, who is barely visible at the top of the yard's gum tree. Barb has already replaced Links' recycled leaf with a bunch of Nicholli -- she knows their favourite leaf, just a like a mother would.

I haven't really done a yard before on my own, other than the joeys. I'm usually in the aviaries or ICU. I rake around the perimeter and refresh Links' water bowl. Barb emerges still cuddling little Ocean Kim. She's decided that Kim, Links and Henry can share this yard for the time being. Links is munching on the new nichollii leaf as Barb deposits Kim onto the gunyah. Links reaches his paw out and touches Kim as she climbs aboard. They then move together and kiss noses as we stand around gushing at this precious display. They start to share the leaf until Kim wanders off to the end of the gunyah that connects with the yard's tree. Then she's gone -- bounding up to the highest branches. The tree is forked at the top -- Henry is ensconced on the right fork and Kim on the other.

Ocean Kim joins Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Anne is making ready the yard nextdoor for O'Briens Fiona, otherwise known as Fiona Houdini, the wiley escape artist. She's moving Wonga Innes to the yard closest to the exit -- they didn't want to put Fiona there since naturally she will be looking for any way to escape outside the yards. This way, if she does get out, it will be into another yard. Anne tells me a little about Links VTR's background. He used to be in yard 6 with the other joeys, but he fell from a tree during a storm and hurt his nose. Links' nose is disfigured after his tree-freefall. Apparently Cheyne used to have to mop his little schnoz every day. It now sports an indentation since it's partly hollow. Links VTR isn't interested in climbing since his accident. It was hoped that the other joey might set a good example for Linksy, but he remains on the gunyah, even climbing down to just above the ground where he can keep a better eye on me.

Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I do recall Links being much friskier when Anna was here though. I was servicing Kempsey Carolina's yard next door and kept seeing Links darting up the beam that connects his gunyah to the tree. He'd scramble up the beam and then onto the tree only to shimmy down to the ground again. The handlers put soft bags at the bottom of the tree to break his fall should he take another tumble. I remember watching him scale his way to the ground only to sit there for a while, as though he wasn't sure what to do next.

Leaf bundles
From koalawrangler's gallery.

The leaf man is still sorting the leaf so I check with Anne if it's okay to start on the joeys (since one of the koala kommandments is to finish one yard before proceeding to the next). There is a huge kookaburra in the yard; I've seen them before in yard 6, so there must be something there they like to eat (hopefully not koala). There are no joeys to be seen -- they must be up high. They have four pots of leaf for the three of them. I do a good rake around their yard -- you're not supposed to do more than a rake's-width perimeter, but there is koala poop everywhere so I reckon a more thorough sweep can't hurt just this once. I empty the dried leaf and poop in a bucket and look in on Ellenborough Nancy (the extra-wild koala from yesterday who swiped at me). She looks so sad with her weepy left eye. She's much quieter today though, perhaps the towels Peter hung up yesterday have calmed her.

I start preparing the joeys' leaf -- like growing children, they make short work of their leaf each day, and leave their leftovers in a messy state. The branches are all broken and bent like they've been trampled. I separate their new bundle into three and refill the recycled pot with leaf from yesterday. Links must be famished because he leans towards me as I bring the new leaf in. He gets stuck into it straight away, which makes it a little hard to hose the leaf down without wetting him as well. Apparently, koalas don't like getting wet very much. I murmur my little cajoling words -- "possum", "sausage", "precious pie" -- to persuade Links that I'm not trying to blast him off the gunyah with a hose. Barb has also put aside a special branch of Nicholli for Links, Henry and Kim. Their pots are almost bursting so I share a bit of their leaf with the other joeys.

With all the orphans attended to, I check with Barb what needs doing next. I had seen Jo leaving the aviaries with a bagged koala earlier and I have half a mind to suggest that I work on the aviaries, especially if one is in the treatment room; it's far easier to clean a koala's aviary when they're not in residence. It's so crowded in there with human/leaf/koala all competing for space. But I don't, since I prefer working in ICU anyway and Barb says I can continue in there. There are a bunch of new koalas -- Belleview Bill and Ocean Roy. The vets had to treat Condon Geoff, the climber from yesterday, but they left him in the transporting box while his unit is being cleaned by Judy -- he's too much of a flight risk!

I start on Warrego Martin's unit, where I can see my own handiwork from yesterday. He's docile and welcoming as ever. I go off to prepare his leaf first so that I can make a presto-chango swap when it comes time to do the towels. My plan works like a charm again -- remove leaf at end without koala and replace towel there; replenish that end with new leaf to coax koala away from dirty towel end and so focus on that end. All the while, Martin is still peeing and pooping so it's a good thing that I leave the clearing of the newpaper until last. There is a tonne of poop in his unit so he's obviously eating a lot; I can hear him chomping on his leaf. It's a such a satisfying sound hearing an animal 'happy' (if that's not projecting too much). Well, helping to meet its basic needs anyway.

After Martin, I start to empty the old leaf into the leaf skip. As you can imagine, there is a lot of leaf to be disposed of in a given day. Every day. Old leaf is first chucked on the ground (as you are working to complete a yard), then it is turfed into a green wheelie bin with the front cut out of it. This is then wheeled to the leaf skip and said leaf hurled into it. The leaf gatherer empties the skip after his leaf collection each morning. Sometimes this means there are two wheelie-bins full of leaf sitting where the skip used to be as well as piles and piles of loose leaf lying where they've been chucked (in the absence of the skip).

Today, the skip's newly emptied and I'm hurling bundles of old leaf into the top of it and thinking how much I used to hate gardening as a kid. Ivy day was the worst. The house I grew up in was literally choked in heavy ivy; the kind with white leaves with green splotches. It grew on the patio railings that surrounded the entire house. Once a year or so, Dad would crank up the chainsaw and hack the ivy back to the bare roots and we kids were enlisted as labour. This consisted of emptying the patio of its towering piles of leaf and branches and depositing the piles into green garbage bags. I remember telling my brother one year that I had a cold so I couldn't bend over to pick up the leaf since it would make my nose run. I've been thinking obout that ivy-clearing today and how much that felt like hollow work; whereas, schlepping the old koala leaf is something I approach with vigour. I find myself returning to this theme often: some activity that I usually dislike is transformed into earthy, soulful work when it is being done for the good of the koalas. Either that or I've just grown up a bit.

I start to help Barb hang out the towels that have just come out of the washing machine, but she orders me inside to have a cup of tea. There may be koalas to attend to but the tea-break is sacrosanct. Carol, who looks after fundraising is laying out mugs as Barb cuts up a custard-filled tea cake. I tell her I may be able to get a mobile phone donated to us that I thought we could auction off at the upcoming open-day in April. She's thrilled by the idea. Cheyne is also going to collect poop in a jar and count the number of "nuggets" (Geoff's term). People can then pay to guess how many bits of koala poop are in the poop jar.

Jo starts to talk about some of the patients. That little lamb Oxley Jo isn't eating her leaf. No! I don't know what that will mean. I ask Jo about her research work. She is doing research on koala disease. I want to ask her if they use the same drugs to treat koala Chlamydia as is used on humans, but the conversation turns to Cloud and the article that appeared on her in the Port Macquarie News on Wednesday. Jules is in and he tells us that Cloud also has an obituary in today's paper.

I go out to check on how O'Briens Fiona is settling in. She's not on her gunyah or anywhere else to be seen. Finally I see her in the corner of her yard. She's snuffling about on the ground, then stands on her hind legs against the fence. She's probably trying to work out how to escape. Fiona Houdini, the master, in action.

O'Briens Fiona plotting her escape
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Anne asks me to clear up Bonny Jude's yard. He's been released today so the yard needs to be fully emptied of leaf etc. I scrub the pots and turn them upside down in their holders to indicate the yard is ready for re-use. I notice Judy carrying a bagged koala towards the aviaries. I tell her I'll help by opening the cage door. It's eepy Links Lorna. Both her wrists are bandaged where they've taken blood. Fortunately, there are canulas in to make drawing the blood they need for analysis less traumatic. It's part of the research to gauge how much of the drug is making it into their bloodstreams. I remember Warrego Martin's wrists were like that when I first met him.

I stop at Oxley Jo's aviary and tell her I want her to start eating her leaf. Perhaps we're just not giving her the variety she likes? Koalas definitely have their favourite kinds; I notice that when I'm discarding the already-munched on leaf taht it is usually the same kind. They leave the other varieties that they're less keen on. Oxley Jo looks at me intently like she half expects me to throw her in a bag. Like I'd do that :)

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