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.

Morrish Steven

On the way out I'm joined by Jim who tells me "I got chased by Sandfly Jye today". Tell me about it. One of the other vollies got Jim on video doing circuits around the gunyah with Jye in hot pursuit. If the guy wins Funniest Home Videos, Jim reckons he's entitled to at least half.

Morrish Steven
From koalawrangler's gallery.

It's a dark, grey day today, after a dark and stormy night (as Snoopy says in Peanuts). It rained for a good 45 minutes during the night so the grounds are all wet; the aviaries sodden; and I can only imagine that there are some dripping koalas up in yard 10.

I start the day in ICU, something I haven't done in a long time. This is the koala cutting edge -- all the newest arrivals wind up in these indoor cubicles where they're closely monitored. Morrish Steven and Lake Private are new inmates. Anna Bay Miles, Jupiter Cheryl and Innes Tony are still there. Innes Tony is a wet bottom, now with affected kidneys.

Tozer Tom has been brought back inside from yard 10. He kept knocking over his umbrella so they removed it, but he was getting drenched being out there without cover. He's asleep when I go in with his food. I draw up a stool and start talking to him gently. I tentatively push the syringe through the leaf towards his mouth and he starts to drink. I wonder whether he is really awake; every time I pause to refill the syringe, he bows his head and nods off.

I set out to start on the non-wet-bottom units before the wet-bottom ones. Lake Private has climbed down to the lower beam on his gunyah to get to his leaf. I decide to leave him to it and start down the other end.

Morrish Steven, a newcomer, looks at me with interest as I enter his unit. He's got a shiny grey tick on his left hind leg, right where his upper claws are dangling. I don't want to risk a swipe if I go to pluck it off front-on. Hopefully, he'll turn into his leaf more and provide me with a better opportunity. He's clearly been climbing up and down his gunyah, since there is a lot of bark shavings on the ground and the gunyah looks dishevelled.

Both of his leaf pots look like they've been trampled. Most of the branches are snapped and dangling over the edge of the leaf pot, out of reach. I collect the best leaf and trim it back and water it, before refilling his pot. He starts chewing the leaf eagerly like it's fresh. That will tide him over until the new stuff arrives. For some reason, there's no water or dirt, which I also fix. Steven turns towards the old-fresh leaf and I act fast: it takes two firm tugs to release the tick. It's not a full one, by any means, so it fits into one of the small phial in the dayroom.

Jupiter Cheryl
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Next I service Jupiter Cheryl's unit. She's perched in the middle of her gunyah, just looking out. Emma and Danae are working on the other units. I pop my head in Anna Bay Miles' unit. He's not a well koala. He keeps gnawing at his own knee. I'm not sue what that signifies. He's still around, which is good; but, I'm not sure for how long.

Anna Bay Miles
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I head outside to see if John needs help in the aviaries. He's still got Ellenborough Nancy to do. I'm drawn to her for some reason; she's a challenge. It all goes well this morning. I replace her towel down one end and am able to pat her bottom to shift her down the other end. She then decides to climb down and range around the floor. She doesn't seem too interested in me, although I keep an eye on her. I swiftly tie down the other towel in time for her to return to the gunyah. The floor is sodden after the rain; her newspaper is dripping wet and full of poop. I scoop it all up and lay new paper down thickly.

When the new leaf arrives, I help John finish the aviaries. Sweet little Condon Geoff tucks into the tallowwood leaf immediately. He's out here on post-treatment observation. Hopefully that means he'll be released soon.

Siren Gem
From koalawrangler's gallery.

The girls have finished the ICU by this time. Emma has managed to catch Siren Gem down from his tree and is feeding him his formula. I sneak a little pat while he's distracted with feeding, before heading home.

On the way out I'm joined by Jim who tells me "I got chased by Sandfly Jye today". Tell me about it. One of the other vollies got Jim on video doing circuits around the gunyah with Jye in hot pursuit. If the guy wins Funniest Home Videos, Jim reckons he's entitled to at least half.

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

Ellenborough Nancy: real wild child

Jo emerges, momentarily beaten by Nancy's loopiness, and announces "I'm gonna have to bag her".

Bellevue Bill
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I'm working with Danae in the aviaries this morning. She's been here twice a day, every day, for a week now, so she's an old hand. The aviaries occupy their own small yard which is reached by a gate near the leaf shed. If a koala somehow got out of an aviary while we were cleaning it, the animal would have to negotiate the gate before reaching the outside world. Saying that, I reckon O'Briens Fiona could probably manage to scale it...she's a wiley thing!

Danae has already emptied one of Bellevue Bill's leaf pots. Danae has started feeding Bellevue Bill who seems to enjoy it, although he keeps an eye on me throughout the feed. Cheyne, the hospital supervisor, comes in to do her rounds, clipboard in hand. Before volunteers touch leaf in the aviaries (as well as the smaller yards in yard 10), each one has to be checked and "read" for the details that the koalas themselves can't tell us about their recovery. I go to start cleaning Oceanview Terry's aviary when Jo's voice sounds over the fence "wait! wait! I still need to check the aviaries".

I didn't realise that BOTH the supervisor and a member of the Sydney Uni team needs to examine the koalas' units and yards. Until then, I thought that Cheyne's doing the rounds was enough; but apparently they look for different things. One check they both do every morning is to "read the leaf". This means scrutinising the leaf bunches to see how much each koala has eaten and which type of eucalyptus. This serves at least two purposes: to ensure that the leaf collectors are gathering the kind of leaf the koalas are eating, and to gauge whether the koala is demonstrating a healthy appetite. They also look at how much poo is on the ground ("reading the poo", I suppose) as this contributes to the overall picture of the koala's health. The uni researchers also take poo samples from each koala for testing. Jo is armed with little zip-lock baggies for the purpose. I'm still holding a bunch of leaf from Terry's unit and she makes a quick survey of the bundle and jots down some notes on a clipboard.

We're now free to carry on cleaning. Oceanview Terry is fast asleep under an arc of leaf so I empty the other pot, roll up the damp newspaper and replenish his dirt and water. There's no towel to change so it's a quick turnaround. There are some French tourists visiting the hospital so Danae pauses to give them some info about the hospital in their native tongue. The French is punctuated by the odd English word or expression. I hear "wet bottom" a couple of times, describing the ailment commonly suffered by koalas affected by Chlamydia. I wonder why Danae wouldn't have translated the term into French somehow, maybe derrière mouillé?

The new leaf is still not ready so I brave Ellenborough Nancy's aviary. She's sitting quietly down on end of her gunyah, so I gradually cut the old towel off the other end and sneak the clean towel on. With other koalas you can gently prod them to vacate the dirty end in order to replace the towel there. Not with Nancy. She's too much of a wild-thing. I keep thinking she must have been named after that other wild-child, Nancy Spungen, girlfriend to Sid Vicious of Sex Pistols fame.

Nancy decides she's going to climb down to the ground. I work as fast as I can to tie on the towel to the rest of the gunyah. I unravel the second new towel and wonder if she'll snatch at it like a rag to a bull as she did last time. Fortunately she's more interested in leaning up against the door and peering outside. All the while I'm tying the new towel on, I'm shooting her glances; her extra-wildness makes her unpredictable so she's not a koala you want to turn your back on.


Ellenborough Nancy
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Jo turns up again, with more medication for the koalas. Both the boys take treat her entrance with stoicism. Danae and I hold our breath as Jo goes in to medicate Nancy. Nancy's aviary faces the joey yard, so we can't see what's going on in there from outside. Jo emerges, momentarily beaten by Nancy's loopiness, and announces "I'm gonna have to bag her": bagging a koala for treatment often lessens their distress. She returns with said bag (each outdoor koala has their own dedicated bag kept in a named compartment in the treatment room) and slips Nancy inside. We can still see her wriggling about under the canvas.

With Nancy gone, I dive into her unit, keen to take advantage of its being koala-free. I quickly sweep up her wet newspaper, finding a couple of ticks in the process, which I pocket for later processing. I'm only just starting to lay the dry newspaper when Barb appears with the Nancy bag. "Oh no, already?", I lament. She laughs. Barb lets Nancy ease herself out of the bag at her own pace and climb back on the gunyah. She's clearly subdued after her trip to the treatment room; I give her plenty of space, finishing the cleaning and leaving quietly.

I should qualify that beneath my mock characterisations of Nancy as a scary beast is my desire to see her recuperate and be released; I really can't wait till she's back amid those soaring gums of Ellenborough where she belongs. You can see the improvement in Ellenborough Nancy's infected left eye in only a few weeks. Glad to see her treatment's doing her some good.

Two weeks ago Ellenborough Nancy From koalawrangler's gallery.

Now Ellenborough Nancy From koalawrangler's gallery.

We learn that the fresh leaf is ready so set about replenishing the leaf pots. Back in the day-room I write up and bottle Nancy's ticks. I hear that there's been a motor vehicle accident near the corner of Ocean and Pacific Drive. Peter sets off on the rescue. With the aviaries done, Danae and I see what we can do to help in the ICU. Barb allocates Danae Innes Tony in unit 1 and me Condon Geoff in unit 4. Helen and Anne are next door with Ocean Roy.

Condon Geoff is the koala who would wedge himself in the space above the door of his unit in ICU. When he graduated to yard 10, he pushed over his umbrella in his smaller yard and took off up a tree in the main part of yard 10. He's back in the units where the staff can keep an eye on him. He's far up the end of his gunyah nearest the door when I enter so I set about doing the towel at the other end. I don't want to shift him more than necessary so I go out to prepare his leaf to make it an easy swap job.

Barb tells me in hushed tones that we shouldn't touch Golf Starr's unit. Her illness is too far progressed for her to recover. Instead, she will be going to that great gumtree in the sky. I remember how upsetting I found it when I first started at the hosptial and learned that little Dunbogan Val was not going to make it through the night. It still saddens me becoming so close to these animals, caring for them, and then facing the inevitable situation that some will never make it outside the hospital. But that is the nature of a hospital. I console myself that they pass away painlessly and with dignity. In addition, it's good to know that the researchers are learning something from each koala they treat which contributes to their knowledge of koala dissease. Ultimately, this benefits the koala population as a whole.

I return to Geoff and place a newly wetted bunch of leaf down the end with the clean towel. I gently lift the bunch he's hiding behind at the other end. He eeps briefly so I leave him be and go to wash and fill the other pot. When I return, he's still sitting there in the open when there's a perfectly delicious new bunch of leaf awaiting him down the other end. He's obviously a koala of habit and is attached to his usual spot. His back is facing the opposite direction to where I want him to go. My mere presence in the unit is causing his ears to flick. It's such a subtle gesture, but I now know how to read some of the signs of their fear or discomfort. The "conversation" between koala and human is rarely overblown.


Condon Geoff
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Rather than touch him, I gently tug at the old towel beneath him. Again he eeps his refusal. Finally, he gets the hint and ambles down the other end to the fresh leaf. Within seconds, I can hear him chomping away, now oblivious to my presence, how he got there probably forgotten. With Geoff fully occupied, I can now mop and paper the floor without resistance.

On my way out, I peer into the treatment room to see Cheyne examining the new admission. Barb is also feeding a koala in a basket. Peter comes outside to join us at the window. He's covered in scratches from the rescue. He explains that the koala with Barb is Crestwood Dampier, a koala with damaged hindquarters that she is caring for at home. He's a big boy, not like the little joeys she normally looks after.

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

I eep therefore I pee

I croon at Oxley Jo a bit to settle her. I notice that she's started to pee, whether out of nervousness or simple koala casualness: I need to pee, therefore I pee.

Ocean Therese & Sam
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Jim and I arrive at the same time so Peter sends us both up to do yard 10. He tells us he's "read" the leaf. We both miss what he's said at first; I keep thinking "red", what's red? Oh, read.

I like it in yard 10; there's none of the cramped confines of ICU or the aviaries and it's in the open air. Most of these koalas are favourites of mine too since they were in ICU when I started volunteering here. I've seen them moved out to aviaries and then the yards. Some of them are on the final treatment round before release, like Macquarie Peter whom they set free yesterday. Links Lorna and Warrego Martin have both been taken off their treatment (so no more jabs or formula). The vets will monitor their blood for a while, and if all's well, they'll be released.

We decide that Jim will take Lorna, Martin & Tom; I'll take Ocean Therese, Tractive Golfer and Oxley Jo. Jim goes off to feed Tozer Tom. Golfer is up his tree as is Therese; however, she comes at the sign of food. Today she feeds like a baby; I can hear her gulping down the milk like from a bottle. I wonder if I should pick her up and burp her afterwards. She'd probably let me. She's sitting there so beatifically, her arms wrapped around the tree with such complacency, that I decide to take a few pics of the two of us. She doesn't mind my getting close to her; she's probably the only koala that will allow it. Nothing seems to faze her. Jim takes a pic of the two of us and soon after that Therese heads back up the tree to find a comfy spot to settle in. Photo shoot over.

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

In Jo's yard, she looks at me earnestly as she always does. I need to throw out the leaf from her recycled pot and replenish that with the good leaf from the two newer pots. She's under the middle one so I go to take the recycled one to her right, but she makes a few little eepy protests. I croon at her a bit to settle her. I notice that she's started to pee, whether out of nervousness or simple koala casualness: I need to pee, therefore I pee. I keep away from her while I rake her yard and replace the recycled leaf pot. It is so overflowing with fluffy leaf that her gunyah is positively festooned in greenery. That should tide her over till the fresh stuff arrives.

After I've done my yards, I go and see what's doing elsewhere. I decide to wash up the used formula pots. I notice from the whiteboards that there's a new admission from yesterday: Golf Starr. He was found sitting low in a tree suffering lethargy. I wonder what causes this? Dehydration? Lack of good leaf?

Swapping between yards is not encouraged due to the risk of cross-contamination, but the leaf hasn't arrived and there are units to be cleaned. Melaleuca Alfie is in the treatment room. They must have taken him out to feed him and now they're waiting for his unit to be ready to return him to it. He's getting a bit restless.

Sandfly Jye
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I start on the only remaining unit not yet cleaned: Sandfly Jye's. He has very open nostrils that are ringed in pink skin, making his nose look quite porcine. There is a huge red stain on the towels on his gunyah. I show Peter and the vet and they decree that it is simply tannin from the wood (no doubt drawn out by Jye's urine). They decide to try to feed Jye in the treatment room too, so this gives me a free run at cleaning his unit without him in it; it's always easier sans koala.

The leaf has arrived! I spray my boots well with metholated spirits and wash my hands with soap before heading back to yard 10. It will be quick job replenishing the leaf since everything else is done. Ocean Therese is back down again, this time standing up on her gunyah and chewing some of yesterday's leaf with her paws rested on a higher beam. I stock her up and she returns to her chomping. Jo gets down from her perch and tears over to her water dish. Just as suddenly she bounds away to the fence and does a circuit of her gunyah before scaling the beam and repositioning herself in the fork.

Tractive's leaf is last since he's still up his tree and showing no sign of budging. Everyone else is finishing up as I stroll back to the day-room. I see Emma feeding Bonny Fire so I go in to pay a visit. Wiruna Lucky is right near them, taking a great interest in Bonny's food. Bonny, meanwhile, has lost interest and is ambling off towards the leaf. Emma tells me about a time when Bonny got a bad dose of the runs from eating the formula. They had to hydrate her with straight water for a while.

On my way out I notice that Oxley Westi, the little bulging-eyed koala from ICU, is now outside in yard 1. I like it when they graduate to the outside. It's so much nicer for them. This one has to have its eyes smeared in an ointment morning and night. The cream goes around the eye and on the eyeball itself. It can't be pleasant, but it's working. I can see how much her eyes have improved. The right one seems bulgier than the left.

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 :)

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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.