Bye-bye Burraneer Henry *sniff*

He's completely trashed the place. There's a large patch of bark he's chewed or scratched off his gunyah; the newspaper on the floor is trampled, and he's kicked over his dirt and water which has intermingled with the bits of chewed off leaf and poop scattered over the floor. It looks like the koala version of a rockstar's hotel room. Did Jim Morrison come back as Morrish Steven?

Cathie Sampson
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Judy is teamleader today and I'm allocated the smaller yards near the ICU block. Lately I'm always doing yard 10, 9 or the aviaries, so I tend to skim past these smaller yards without stopping to smell the roses...er, koalas. It's good to be able to look in on Oxley Westi in yard 1 and Cathie Sampson in yard 3.

I remember the day that Sampson was brought in; he was suffering from acute diarrhoea. It was a Sunday and we had to put him a vacant aviary as there was a full house in ICU. I understand that his current prognosis is poor. You can tell he's an old koala just by looking at him. His face is slightly gaunt in the cheeks, like O'Briens Fiona; but mostly his age shows on his nose, the most prominent part of a koala's face. Sampson's nose shows he's been in the wars; it's scratched like he's foraged around in more than a few bushes in his time, and maybe even had some scraps with other male koalas.

Oxley Westi
From koalawrangler's gallery.

He's quietly sheltered by his leaf pot at one end, so I clear the leaf at the other. Sampson starts moving up the gunyah, tightrope-like, towards me. He stops still and regards me solemnly for a moment. It's then that I notice a tear welling in his right eye. It's a not a tear, really; his eye's just watering for some other physiological reason. Any other interpretation would be anthropomorphism, as Cheyne calls it.

Oxley Westi is is sleeping as I clean around her. It takes me ages to finish sweeping up her copious poop. As I stand up, I notice Peter coming out of the aviaries with a koala in his grasp. It's a small one so I don't recognise him straight away. "Who's that?" "Burraneer Henry" "That's little Henry?!"

Burraneer Henry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Peter pauses on his path to the treatment room to give me a better look. It's Henry all right. That same angelic little face that none of us could resist photographing incessantly when he first came in back in January. He'd been brought in suffering a tick infestation and was in need of some serious R&R. Henry soon became a minor celebrity, holding court in yard 1A, enjoying the oohs and ahhs of visitors and vollies alike. He even had his picture in the local paper.

He's spend the last several weeks wedged high in the fork of a tree. After being there for all of us to gawp at lovinlgy for so long, these days all we've been treated to has been a glimpse of his furry posterior. Indeed, the only other evidence of his existence is the nibbles to his leaf each morning after his nocturnal munchies. That, and the new littering of poo pellets around his neatly raked yard. Henry's become like the Easter Bunny I remember from my childhood: leaving half-chewed carrots and a trail of easter eggs the morning after, with no sign of the animal in question.

There was a note up on the whiteboard for a while alerting the vollies that if/when Henry made an appearance on his gunyah, he should be captured in preparation for release. This must have occurred yesterday. I follow Henry into ICU like a lovelorn pup. Peter places Henry on the treatment room table to the delight of the onlookers at the viewing window. Cheyne prepares a basket for Henry's transport to his new home. Joeys typically don't have a home range; often joeys that come to the hospital are raised in home care. They usually release joeys in pairs to give them some company, like Links VTR and Ocean Kim.

In Henry's case, he's being released at the wilderness end of Burraneer Avenue where he was found. Barb also looked after Henry at home. Today she expresses her fears for him being a young male own their on his own. As well as the threats of urbanisation, motor vehicle accidents, and dog attacks, male koalas also each other to worry about.

With the outside yards complete, everyone chips in to clean the intensive care units. Judy's doing Jupiter Cheryl, Helen's in with Calwalla Bill, and I start on Morrish Steven's unit. He's completely trashed the place. There's a large patch of bark he's chewed or scratched off his gunyah; the newspaper on the floor is trampled, and he's kicked over his dirt and water which has intermingled with the bits of chewed off leaf and poop all over the floor. It looks like the koala version of a rockstar's hotel room. Did Jim Morrison come back as Morrish Steven?

Steven starts emitting that otherworldly mating noise the males make. His head is raised like he's howling at the moon. He's a feisty one, and a bit grabby. He reaches out towards me in a pushy manner. He's probably after fresh leaf. The koalas are often frisky until they get their morning leaf. Normally I suppose they'd be looking around for new leaf themselves; as patients, they have to wait till the hospital leaf trolley arrives. At least, it's better than human hospital food.

Across the way, Helen is cleaning Calwalla Bill's unit. He's moved off the upper beam of his gunyah onto the cross-beams below it. Helen is just bending to mop the floor, chatting as we all do to our respective koalas, when Bill unexpectedly swipes at her twice with his paw. It all seems to happen in slow motion. Helen pulls back. Luckily, she's only received a few scratches on her face. It wasn't aggression on Bill's part, merely his way of telling someone they're in his personal space. The trouble is he's armed with Edward Scissorhand-type claws. I remember Jules the tour guide telling us that koalas only actively use their claws for gripping trees; if actually were an offensive animal, imagine the damage they could do. Dogs would think twice before attacking them.

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.

Ocean Therese and Tractive Golfer

Warrego Martin climbs back up his gunyah to the highest point and looks longingly at the tree in his yard, which is covered to prevent climbing (and hence escaping). I've seen this look before -- it's the closest a koala gets to an expression of calculation.

Tractive Golfer
From koalawrangler's gallery.

It was nice to see Amanda today. I missed my shift last Thursday and she was away for the previous two weeks, so it has been a while since I've koala'd under her tutelage. There are two new faces -- one male, one female: Jarrod and Erin. Amanda puts me on yard 10 with Yasmin.

Yard 10 is a delight compared to the cramped confines of the aviaries. That yard only used to house Tractive Golfer, who had free run of the place, until they subdivided the space along the edge of the yard into separate smaller yards -- about five or six of them. There's also a separate circular yard within yard 10 which tends to be the climber-rehab yard. It's where Treetop Boxer resided briefly before his release. It has its own tree which is not covered in a metal casing to prevent climbing, as many of them are. Rather, they've put Ocean Therese in there to encourage her to use her climbing muscles. In yard 9 she spent most of the day lounging around under a shade on her gunyah.

I clear out her water bowl and notice a large pellet-shaped object floating in it. I confer with Yasmin and we agree that it's a tick. I take it inside and Amanda tells me, no, it's only a swollen piece of poop -- get rid of it! I guess I'll have to work on honing my razor-sharp tick identification skills...

I return to yard 10 where I'm scheduled to feed Ocean Therese, but she's half way up her tree. Yasmin suggests I rattle the lid so she knows there's food. Once she knows formula's in the offing she starts to back her way down, her white rounded bottom bobbing all the way.


Ocean Therese
From koalawrangler's gallery.
By the time I let myself into her yard, she's actually climbed all the way from the tree to the gunyah to the ground. I crouch down over her and start to syringe the food in. Once again, I'm touched by having this fuzzy little face upturned towards me, a brown warmth in her eyes in the soft morning light. I haven't been so close to Therese before and I can immediately see her baby's resemblance to her. Ocean Kim was thrown from Ocean Therese when she was hit by a car on Ocean Drive. For some reason, koala mothers cease to recognise their young if they become separated. So Kim and Therese have been at the hospital in side-by-side yards without knowing (or caring) that the other is there :(

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Ocean Therese
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Yasmin and I were discussing this when I remark that they seem to put the joeys together for company, like a little orphanage. Apparently, after Ocean Kim was put in with Links VTR and Burraneer Henry, the doe-eyed Henry became a bit of a bully-boy. He would plant himself at a lower tree branch and refuse to let Kimmy come down for fresh leaf! So Links and Kim were put in yard 9A (where Links is undergoing his own climbing-training) and Henry was packed off to yard 4 on his own.


After feeding, Therese wanders off towards her gunyah, but shows no interest in climbing it. She plonked herself on the muddy ground with her legs stuck straight out in front of her and just hung onto the gunyah beam that reached the ground.

"She's probably hot", suggests Yasmin.

Or a bit loopy. It's possible that she may have suffered brain damage as a result of the car accident.

The smaller yards in yard 10 house Macquarie Peter, Warrego Martin, Tozer Tom and Links Lorna. I'm pleased to see Martin and Tom outside after their long weeks inside in ICU. Martin was still inside last week so he continues to explore his yard today. He's a bit timid when I go in, which is strange considering I was much closer to him (by necessity) in the units. He keeps jumping off his gunyah and wandering around the perimeter looking for a way out. Then he climbs back up his gunyah to the highest point and looks longingly at the tree in his yard, which is covered to prevent climbing (and hence escaping). I've seen this look before -- it's the closest a koala gets to an expression of calculation.

The leaf-gatherer's still preparing the bundles so all was can do is get the yards prepped for the leaf. The smaller yards are covered in dried leaf and palm fronds so there's little point in raking them much. I go through and replenish the water bowls and empty out one of the two leaf pots, scrubbing it and filling it with fresh water. Yasmin takes a pot from eepy Lorna who predictably eeps at her in protest.

Amanda and Ross come into the yard. Ross's job has fallen through so he's back on Thursday shift. I don't think anyone wants to leave this place. Yasmin starts a Bachelor of Business on Monday at the local campus of Newcastle Uni. I commiserate with her, there's no money in koalas. She wisely responds that you don't do koala work for the money, but for the love of it.

Ross and Amanda are looking for Tractive Golfer. I mention that I saw Golfer the other day sleeping on his gunyah with his bottom poked out, resting on the beam. She tells me that the way he sits is actually due to scoliosis. I've never seen him up close before. Ross spots him in a tree in the far corner. His face is resting in the crook of the branches, framing it. He'll come down sooner or later when he wants to be fed.

Beautiful Macquarie Peter whom I'd helped Amanda bag in ICU weeks ago, and then looked after in the cramped aviaries, is king of all he surveys out in the yards. He has a gentleness about him, despite his size. Today he adopts a ladies-come-and-get-me stance.

Macquarie Peter
From koalawrangler's gallery.

The leaf is ready and I start preparing Peter's batch. Yasmin is preparing Golfer's. Suddenly we look around and there's Golfer himself crouched by the leaf rack. I've already separated Peter's leaf bundles and doused them in water. They're dripping invitingly from the rack. Golfer reaches up and starts to tuck in. No, you don't, says Yasmin. She tries to distract him with formula. Once he's finished that, I pick up Peter's leaf and Golfer takes off after me. Gimme that leaf! Yasmin grabs a branch and coaxes him towards his own gunyah where there is plenty of leaf. The way she's swinging the branch about, it's like watching her enact an arcane indigenous koala-luring custom. It works -- he follows the wet leaf like the proverbial carrot and the donkey.


Tractive Golfer & Yasmin
From koalawrangler's gallery.
We finish cutting up the leaf for Warrego Martin, Tozer Tom and Links Lorna, then clean up the loose leaf from the yard. I check with Jackie in ICU to see if she needs help. They're almost done in there -- two of the units are empty -- so I go to join the team for a cup of green tea.

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

Emma's koala gallery

Emma, another volunteer from the hospital has a Flickr account showcasing her love of koalas. She's clearly obsessed with the same koalas as me -- Henry and Links.

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

Blinky Pinkie

I end up on my hands and knees, rolling up the newspaper and picking up poop individually with my fingers. Unbelievably I find another THREE ticks in the corner, rolling around fit to burst.

Wiruna Lucky
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Being in Sydney earlier this week has stripped me of my newfound 'green' veneer, so I've been craving a good dose of koala. I've also decided that the scent of fresh eucalyptus, especially the concentrated gamier odour that the ICU emits is one of my favourite smells.

There was a new face in the day-room today -- Damien, one of the uni vets, who must have been away on holidays. He looks about my age. I recognise him from the hospital home page. His blurb says he has completed a doctorate in koala disease.

I'm assigned to work with Anne again today. We've got the aviaries (which Anne comically calls "ovaries") and yard 6, where the joeys are (as apposed to where the wild things are). The joeys are more spread about the yards these days -- Ocean Kim is now sharing yard 9A (the enclosed yard within yard 9) with Links VTR, and Burraneer Henry has been moved to his own yard -- yard 4.

Judy tells me that she's laid out last night's leftover leaf on a rack outside the leaf-shed. It's to be used as today's recycle. Anne and I head off to yard 6. Barb calls from the adjacent yard 9; she is feeding one of the girls. She asks Anne if she'll come in and help with feeding. There are a few tourists about and they are generally more likely to participate in the adopt-a-wild-koala scheme if they see activity from the koalas. Anne used to be a guide so she likes to re-enter the limelight occasionally.

I carry on raking around the joey yard. They are nowhere in sight as usual. We're just the hired help who come in to sweep a bit and restock their food while they swan around the treetops like complacent little monkeys...whom we worship nonetheless.

Barb calls me over so I can feed Wiruna Lucky. She's a big old girl with midriff bulge. As she's feeding, I study her claws which seem to be missing in places. She also lolls her head about as though she's blind, although I'm not sure if that's her affliction. Meanwhile, Barb is telling the tourists about the resident koalas. Apparently, the NSW Parks & Wildlife only permit the hospital to treat and release koalas; they were given special permission to keep some of the koalas permanently. If they're not well enough to be released, they are generally euthanased. It's against the law to keep native animals. She talks about Ocean Therese whom I remember some of the handlers joking about with Cheyne, saying she can never be released. Technically she's got to be, but Barb thinks Therese might be suffering from some sort of brain injury which could influence that outcome.

I return to the joeys and wash out their pots and discard the leaf. Anne already replaced the recycled pot with leftover leaf from the leaf shed. As I finish raking, I find not one but two plump ticks on the ground among the koala droppings. They are similar in size and shape and colour to poo, except that ticks have a glossier purple sheen to them, while poop is more matte. After gorging themselves on koala blood they drop off and wind up lying on their backs like upturned turtles. They are so distended with blood that their legs poke out at odd angles like whiskers. I have the uneviable opportunity of studying them closely in my palm before depositing them in individual phials and killing them with a squirt of ethanol.

The leaf gatherer is nowhere to be seen so we have to break the koala kommandment of starting a new yard before the first is finished. Anne says Oxley Jo has been acting up so she allocates me Ellenborough Nancy. Oh no! I may be projecting but I feel like Nancy really doesn't like me, whereas Oxley Jo is a placid little lamb. Jo's still not eating much nor producing much poop, which bothers me some. Can they force-feed a koala?

Perhaps it's the effect of Nancy's sore eye making her a look a little meaner than the rest, but I'm sure she's going to take a swing at me the first chance she gets. Nancy's aviary is not very wide so it's difficult to give her the wide berth she needs so as not to get too uppity. She's down the left end so I quickly cut free the towel from the right side, all the while watching my back, and replace it with a fresh towel. I decide to use my neverfail method of luring her towards the clean towel with fresh leaf. I cut up a batch from last night's leftovers. Anne says I need to use fresh but I explain my tactic. It works well as I remove the pot from the end I want her to vacate and she moves towards the newly wetted leaf. It's not fresh but it's better than nothing. I realise the other towel is way too long so I head off to the shed for a smaller one. I find a swollen tick near the door and write this one up in the day-room. As I return, I see that Nancy has had her fill of leaf and is returning to the leafless end that I'm yet to re-towel. Gadzooks, my best-laid plans, foiled! I should have laid the longer towel while I had the chance. Note to self...

Meanwhile, Damien is just approaching her aviary to give Nancy some medication. He graciously offers to move Nancy out of the way while I finish tying the new towel. You can tell he's a koala expert by the way that he gently pats her rump to move her along without complaint. Perhaps it's to do with showing your fear. And because I'm rushing to get it done, the string (which is cheap jute) is getting all knotted and all the while he's waiting with a needle in one hand and a koala's butt in the other.

Finally, that part's done and I can get back to cleaning the floor of the unit. It's hard to wield a broom in such a small space and I don't want to disturb her. I end up on my hands and knees, rolling up the newspaper and picking up poop individually with my fingers. Unbelievably I find another THREE ticks in the corner, rolling around fit to burst. Another trip to the day-room. At this rate, Anne has almost finished both Oxley Jo and Oceanview Terry -- a newcomer.

Finally the leaf is done and I can prepare fresh leaf for Nancy. Anne says she'll do the joeys' leaf; I can go and see what's left to be done in ICU.

Oxley Westi
From broken_puzzle's gallery.

Peter says that ICU has mostly been done. The first two units need fresh leaf. I go off to prepare it. For some reason they've decided to limit the units to two pots of fresh leaf and no recycled. Probably for space reasons. It makes it harder to manoeuvre the koalas about, to lure them here and there with new leaf. The first unit contains a newcomer -- Oxley Westi. She's a small koala with bulbous eyes. I feel so sorry for her; her eyes look so uncomfortable. And I have to move her old leaf which means virtually pulling it from her. Outside on her whiteboard it says "pinkie in pouch".

Judy is helping Damien in the treatment room with a bagged koala. I ask who they're working on. Damien says "Tezza". I ask Judy about the pinkie and she clarifies that this means she has an unfurred joey in her pouch. Wow! I wonder if that means she'll stay in the hospital until the joey emerges. I fill up a pot of leaf and carry it awkwardly into the ICU. Cheyne is walking through the corridor and remarks that I look like I'm carrying a wedding bouquet up the aisle. "It's just as I imagine it too", I respond.

Warrego Martin
From koalawrangler's gallery.

To finish the last units we all muck in. Barb is stripping the towels from Warrego Martin's gunyah as I muck out his floor. No lack of poop here. At morning tea, Geoff talks about a fundraising cruise that's coming up. He asks Cheyne about "koala superannuation" -- it's their term for the kind of financial forecasting they're doing for koalas' welfare in the future; not spending everything now, but planning for the koalas in thirty years' time.

Barb retreats to collect a joey she's caring for at home, Siren Gem as Cheyne says they need to give him a jab with some medication. Anne tells us (me and Carole from the shop) about the joey's background. Some people found it and kept it for a few days. In a milk-crate. It was getting weaker so they brought the little joey in after two days. It was quite dehydrated and lacking in energy. It was called Gemma until they determined it was a boy, so now he's "Gem". Barb has been caring for him for a a week or so and he's picked up quite a bit.

When she arrives back at the hospital she carries him in the usual washing basket configuration. Barb leaves the basket on the treatment room floor while Damien sets up a drip device for the next patient. Barb loosens the bicycle clasps on the basket so that the top basket is just sitting loose. I stand in the doorway, waiting till they bring him out.

He's obviously gotten more energy because he manages to poke his head out between the gap in the two baskets, trying to make his escape. I rush forward. Damien says "just push on his forehead" -- I remember Cheyne showing us this technique: it makes them retreat. Barb returns and holds Gem on the treatment table while he gets his jab. It's awful watching the poor little thing flinch as the needle goes in. He tries to turn and climb back into his foster Mum's arms.

Afterwards, Barb pops him back in his basket and gives him a tender bunch of new leaf to munch on. He tucks in; the doctor visit is all but forgotten.

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.

Ticks & swipes: koalawrangling's tawdry underbelly

There's no way I can finishing tying the towel: Ellenborough Nancy still has it in her clutches and is giving me a death stare to boot.

Scrubbing brushes
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I’m late in today as I had to get a blood test done first thing this morning. The clinic opens at 8am –- the same time I’m due at the clinic. I call and let Peter, the team-leader know. I stand around the pathology clinic wearing my koala smock and khakis. Annoyingly, there are a bunch of people ahead of me -– all fasting. Don’t they realise I’ve got koalas relying on me!?

I get to the hospital at about 8.45am. Peter directs me to help Jackie in ICU. There are a bunch of new koalas in. Just before I start, Peter bags Tozer Tom who is taken into the treatment room. He is to be released to one of the new subdivisions in yard 10. First he’s given his supplement, which I stand by to watch, chatting with Cheyne and the vets. Cheyne suggests it'll please him to be over near the ladies (after the guttural mating cries emanating from his unit other day).

Tozer Tom
From koalawrangler's gallery.

With Tom off to new digs, I get to do a complete clean of a unit, which I’ve never done before. This involves spraying the gunyah liberally with disinfectant (bleach damages organic matter so it's not used on the wood) and mopping the floor and walls with bleach. It's heavy work scrubbing high up the walls using a heavy water-sodden mop. I have sweat dripping down my nose by the time I’m done.

Next I start on Warrego Martin’s unit. I’ve developed a system with the wet-bottom patients, where there is the added complication of the towels to be dealt with. The koala is sitting on the towel, but somehow you have to remove the old towel and replace it with a new one. Naturally, this also involves moving the koala somehow. What I generally do is start on the end the koala isn’t. I remove the leaf from the end I'm working on so as to discourage the koala from scurrying down there till I'm ready. I cut free the string and roll up one towel, brushing the poop up as I go. Then I replace this towel and tie in down. Most koalas will stay up with their leaf.

The new leaf bundles are ready so I go and prepare the one, scrubbing the pots and separating the branches into two piles. It all goes swimmingly. I put the new leaf down the clean-towel end and remove the old leaf from the other end where he's been hiding. This sends Martin ambling down to the clean end -– all a part of my cunning plan. He he. This enables me to replace the other dirty towel and replenish the leaf without a furry, distressed obstacle. As I'm crouching under the gunyah and mopping, I glance up to see what he's up to; he's leaning down out of his gunyah just staring at me as if to say "what are you doing down there?". There I am, projecting again.

Jackie is cleaning Condon Geoff’s unit. I stick my head in to see if I can help. I don’t see a koala anywhere, so I wonder if he's been bagged for transfer outside. "Is there a koala in here?", I ask. "Up there", she gestures nonchalantly. I follow the wall until I see the little fellow curled up in the space above the door, fast asleep. It's the highest place in the room: it's like he's fashioned himself a gumtree until he can be moved outside and back to the real thing. He seems content with this makeshift arrangement for now.

Geoff's absence from the gunyah makes it easier to clean up his unit. I prepare his leaf while Jackie finishes mopping the floor and laying paper. It starts raining properly now. I stand at the cutting rack outside ICU which begins just as the roof awning ends, so that the rain descends in a sheet that dribbles down my face and arms. I don't need to spray the leaf before taking it to Geoff's unit -- it's already drenched.

I stop by the laundry with some wet-bottom towels. Jackie has a system she likes to follow -- she fills the washing machine (a top-loader, obviously) with water and lets the wet-bottom towels soak there for a while. As we add new towels, you pull the power knob out and let them agitate for a few seconds and then depress the knob to let them continue soaking. They're covered in smeared koala poop and bladder leakage so benefit from the extra time.

Next we have a cuppa. I always associate the tea break with green tea since I was doing a detox when I started volunteering here. I could only drink herbal tea and Madura green tea was all they had. Peter says that the aviaries still need to be done so I finish up my tea and head out there.

Ellenborough Nancy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I start cutting the leaf first and notice that the koala in Ellenborough Kelly's old aviary is scaling the grate in her door. She's also from Ellenborough. This one's called Nancy and appears to be another extra wild one.

What is it with climbing today? She's making a god-awful metallic scuttling noise, as she moves around the aviary. Fortunately, she's back on the gunyah when I enter. Her swollen left eye makes her look forlorn -- I think I recall reading on the whiteboard that that eye is blind. Her water is full of dirt and her dirt tray is overturned. Otherwise the paper is not too bad and the towel seems quite clean. There is a bag on the floor which should have been a sign that the koala was newly returned to the aviary. I've managed to replace one towel when I narrowly avoid a fierce swipe. Perhaps Cheyne needs to add "Swipey" to her koala-reading categories. She still has the towel caught in her claws and looks...grouchy! Just then I hear Jackie approach to tell me that Nancy's aviary has already been done! No wonder Nancy was so annoyed. She must have just been bagged and brought in from the treatment room. There's no way I can finish retying the towel now: Nancy still has it in her clutches and is giving me a death stare to boot. I lock her unit and start on Oxley Jo, vowing to return to retie the towel later when Nancy's settled down.

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Oxley Jo is the most angelic-looking koala I've seen that isn't a joey. She even gives Burraneer Henry a run for his money. She stares at me, fascinated, as soon as I enter the aviary. Her gunyah is very awkward -- low and difficult to get around. She doesn't take her eyes off me for a second. I think it's just curiosity. She doesn't look exactly scared, just a bit transfixed by my presence like Warrego Martin was. She's also one who's quite 'attached' (literally/figuratively) to the central vertical branch of her gunyah. She's not interested in moving down to the other end of the gunyah so that I can replace the towel. I suddenly notice a grey swelling on her forearm -- a tick! I decide after the swiping I nearly got from Nancy that I'm not going to brave the removal of a tick so close to her claws. She's a timid one but she could turn! Especially as she's quite focused on my every move.

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I call Peter over to see if he can get the tick off her. She eeps a bit and scuttles to the other end of the gunyah, which at least means I can finish the towel and the leaf. She goes even further though, and climbs down to the lower beam and continues to stare. I collect Jo's dirt tray to replace the dirt and notice a swollen tick sitting in it. I take it to the day-room and follow the routine Amanda showed me weeks ago: put tick in phial, cover in ethanol, write name of koala, yard no., and whether found on koala or ground on chart, then write the allocated number on the phial lid. Some researcher has got a serious collection of pickled ticks to go through.

Back in the aviaries, Jackie has finished with Links Lorna (the eeping one from ICU). I'm done with Jo except for removing the tick, which Peter says he'll do when she's settled down. He's managed to retie Nancy's towel as she's taken to climbing up the wire again. He's pegged up some towels to the open grate on the side of Nancy's aviary since she seems so upset at the moment. I recall what Cheyne said about covering distressed koalas after a rescue: what they don't see, won't alarm them.

I head off about 12pm. Driving home, my eyes scan every tree. It's a thing I find myself doing now -- looking for koalas. I see a lot of dead critters -- squashed lizards and bowled over wild chooks mostly. I actually pulled to a screaming halt just before our driveway last week because a lizard was scuttling across the road. The lizards give themselves half a chance, but the chooks are mad -- they bolt out of nowhere in front of your car and across the street (if they're lucky). A hundred why-did-the-chicken-cross-the-road jokes come to mind... Anyway, I also find myself staring closely at the forks in the branches now that I know tree branches so intimately. I tick off in my mind where I'd cut the branch to produce the optimal leaf...yes, I've crossed over to...the koala side!

I give myself a thorough going-over when I got home. It freaked me out finding those ticks so easily on Oxley Jo. I empty my pocket and find string there from one of the wet-bottom units.

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