Fingers crossed for Oxley Jo

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

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Kempsey Carolina
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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

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


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

Wiruna Lucky
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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


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

Where the ticks go
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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

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

Leaf buffet

I realise I'm staring at Oxley Jo too long because she starts to eep at me weakly which, roughly translated, means "rack off" in Koala.

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I've doffed my teamleader training cap today. I pretty much understand what's required from a process point of view (although I reckon I'd have to get in at 4am to give myself enough time to decipher the leaf before the morning shift starts). I know how to check the boards and make up formula. What I lack is experience at the koalaface, the bagging and picking up of said koalas. It'd be really handy for me to go on a rescue to get the no-dress-rehearsal experience of trying to nab a koala for admission to the hospital.

Fortunately (for the koalas, but not for my nabbing skills), there are fewer koalas on the ground getting themselves into strife. Mating season has ended (although tell that to the horny lads in ICU) and we're into the cooler months, meaning koalas spend even more time doing essential koala activities like sleeping, eating, weeing, pooping and more sleeping. Presumably, after the frisky summer months, there are many pinkies and joeys being incubated in their mums' pouches, ready to make their appearances in the spring.

Cheyne reports to Amanda that Walcha Barbie has taken a turn for the worse in the last 24 hours. I take a peek at her unit and she's asleep in her basket on the floor, not on her gunyah. Cheyne asks Amanda to pulverise some leaf, presumably to mix in with her formula, to ensure she's getting enough nutrients. She was doing so well these last few weeks, despite her injured arm. I think Cheyne even took her home with her last weekend to ensure she had round-the-clock care.

Ocean Therese
From koalawrangler's gallery.

My name is on the board for yard 10 so I grab Tractive Golfer's food pot and leave the dayroom. Amanda is breaking off nicholii leaves and depositing them into a dish. "Making a salad?", I enquire wittily. "Yep, hold the feta and olives", retorts Amanda.

The first thing I notice about yard 10 is that Ocean Therese is missing! She was slated for transfer to the Walkabout Wildlife Sanctuary's koala refuge and it's finally happened. Her absent yard is a sorry sight indeed; you could always count on Therese to lunge her furry little face towards you in a (seemingly) welcoming way. She would beseechingly lean into you when on the lookout for food; but, upon realising it wouldn't be forthcoming, would curl up and return to sleep. She'd really developed her climbing skills since being in yard 10a, something she had to improve before she could be shipped out to her new home.

Morrish Steven
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Only Tractive Golfer, Oxley Jo, Lookout Harry and the new transfers from ICU -- Morrish Steven and Innes Tony -- remain in yard 10. Golfer's down on his gunyah snoozing, but takes some interest in the profferred syringe. Unlike Therese, Golfer acts like he can take it or leave it, like the whole feeding process is something superfluous that we handlers do for our own amusement. He's a leaf man through and through, as will soon be made apparent.

Vanessa joins me in yard 10 and we talk about the reduction of numbers. She's sad to have missed Sandfly Jye. He became quite a favourite with the vollies for his insistent scampering behaviour.

The Wednesday maintenance crew have worked their magic -- there are now individual hoses in each smaller yard: no more traipsing down with the interminably long hose and the mad dash back to turn it off in between leaf sprays.

Morrish Steven
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Vanessa starts on Lookout Harry's yard while I head down to visit Morrish Steven. He's fast asleep and begrungingly flickers awake as I potter around his yard. I've decided that he's quite the yawner. When a koala yawns you realise how infrequently you see the inside of their mouths. They're usually closed or barely open while the back teeth pulverise their leaf. The only other time they open their mouths is when they're eeping in annoyance or discomfort. You can almost hear the sound I'm talking about, it's rendered so palpably in Birthday Girl's expression in the shot below. Obviously O'Briens Fiona had gotten too close to Birthday Girl for her liking:


O'Briens Fiona tees off Birthday Girl
From koalawrangler's gallery.
So yawning is a rare opportunity to see how gummy their mouths are. Steven looks almost human when he does it; and right now he's got an audience of tourists snapping away at him. Rightly so; he's a handsome marsupial. He's less "grabby" out here in the yard, but he shares Therese's penchant for head lunging. He's curious and wants to know why you're in here and what's in it for him.

Morrish Steven
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I collect some of yesterday's recycle leaf from outside the leaf shed and make up a new recycle pot for Steven. He rushes towards me on his gunyah as I bring the bouquet in. He treats it like fresh leaf and tucks straight in. He seems to stop and stare at me at one point, even pausing his leaf-munching to look intently. Either that or his eyes are simply glazed over with leaf pleasure and I have ceased to exist.

Vanessa has made quick work of Harry's and Tony's yards. Tony has adopted Sandfly Jye's former high perch. He doesn't seem to sleep much; he's always on lookout. You can tell he doesn't move much from there because all the leaf tips within easy nibbling distance of the perch have been chewed down to the stalks. I would wager there's a concentration of poo right under that tree fork and nowhere else.

Innes Tony
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Vanessa finishes Tractive Golfer's area and I start on Oxley Jo's. I have to remove her recycle pot which leaves her looking like a bump on a log. She's straddling her forked branch with both paws like a stilt-walker. The pads on lower paws clutch the branch, looking almost froglike. I realise I'm staring at her too long because she starts to eep at me weakly which, roughly translated, means "rack off" in koala (see Birthday Girl, above). I quickly create a towering recycle pot to return Jo to her leafy privacy.

There's some recycle leaf left on the rack down near Morrish Steven's yard. Suddenly Tractive Golfer appears out of the nowhere and starts nibbling at the overhanging leaf. Despite his scoliosis, he manages to shimmy up the wooden leg and onto the leaf rack and settles in for a buffet of leftovers.


Tractive Golfer
From koalawrangler's gallery.
The new leaf is ready and we start the production line of replenishing the yards. To complicate matters, Tractive Golfer decides he's more interested in our fresh leaf and we have to completely remove all the leaf from the rack and beckon Golfer towards his own gunyah so that he'll let us prepare the others' leaf.


Tractive Golfer
From koalawrangler's gallery.
There're always lorikeets fluttering around this tree in yard 10. Today they're especially noisy. I realise that the protruding knot in the tree above the leaf racks had filled with water and the birds were using it as a bath. One disappears into it, emerge with drenched feathers, shake itself and preen. Then another shows up and does the same thing. Then one squawks and they squabble with each other. I reckon one of them must have jumped the queue.


Bathing lorikeets
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Click here to view the rest of today's koala hospital snaps.

FiFi Houdini's final escape

Barb pops her head in the yard and tells me not to start on Links Lorna's yard. Today's the day she's being released. You go, girl!

Links Lorna
From koalawrangler's gallery.

It's good to be back in the koala saddle again, after missing my usual Thursday shift yesterday. Being Good Friday, we're down a few vollies; plus there's a few rescues and releases to take away the human resources from the usual servicing of the yard. Barb reckons it's shaping up to be one of those fridays. The kind where you plan to finish at 10, and then you're there admitting new koalas until lunchtime.

Judy is telling Mary about the latest on Walcha Barbie. She's developed a problem ingesting her leaf. She's hungry but not able to keep the food down. They're going to start pulverising her leaf so that she can eat. Judy's talking about Barbie like she's right here in the room. It's then I realise that she is -- she's basketed on the dayroom table, quiet as a mouse.

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I'm in yard 10 today with Ashley, although he's likely to be called away on a rescue. First off, I feed Tractive Golfer, who's on his gunyah and snuggled into yesterday's leaf. Jo starts making her rounds in yard 10, checking on the koalas' progress. I ask her about little Oxley Jo, the princess of yard 10, since it looks to me like her wet bottom has 'dried up' a little. Jo says she's spent a little longer on the trials than usual. She wasn't responding initially, but has just turned a corner, delivering a negative result for Chlamydia on the test they do. Jo attempted to explain the test to me, which would give CSI a run for its money. Something to do with gel and chain reactions. I cross my fingers for her that her treatment continues to be a success; she's such a darling.

Jo also tells me something that hadn't occurred to me: the koala admissions quieten down in the winter months. It's out of mating season so they're not taking the same risks roaming from place to place.

Tractive Golfer
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I start to sort out Tractive Golfer's leaf and then Ocean Therese. Golfer makes it easy for me, climbing up a nearby tree leaving his pots free to change. Therese reaches out to me in case I have formula. She's still slated for relocation to a wildlife sanctuary, but apparently the transfer requires both Department of Agriculture and NSW Parks & Wildlife approval. Suits me fine; I'll be sad to see her go. She's such a gentle girl. I give her head a little stroke before I go. Barb pops her head in the yard and tells me not to start on Links Lorna's yard. Today's the day she's being released. You go, girl!

Speaking of removals, I see that Warrego Martin is gone from his usual yard. I knew he was in the post-treatment monitoring phase, but it's still a surprise to see he's been released. Like I expect a phone call advising he's to be released today: did I want to come in to the hospital and see him off? Perhaps a cake and streamers? :) Warrego Martin was one of the koalas I first encountered in ICU. He's come through his system of treatment and is well enough to re-enter the koala community as a healthy male. You can see his photostream here.

I've taken some of yesterday's leftover leaf from outside the leaf shed to use as shelter for Oxley Jo's and Sandfly Jye's recycle pots. There's some good sweeping nicholii to give them some added shade. Some visitors are snapping away at Oxley Jo, but she turns my way when I enter her yard. The new leaf is here already, even before I've made a good go at the yards in yard 10. I quickly replenish Jo's leaf and in the process knock Sandfly Jye's feed pot off the leaf rack. I make up another pot in the dayroom.

Lookout Harry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Ashley's back from the rescue and goes in to feed Jye. He then makes a good dent in the rest yard 10. Lookout Harry makes off up his tree as Ashley cleans. I notice that Harry still has a small leaf branch attached to his bottom; it looks like he's sprouted roots. Ashley whips through three or four of the yards, stripping out one pot of old leaf in each until he's called away for another rescue. The rescue from this morning was Orr Palmerston, a former patient, who needs to be re-released since he's okay.

Barb comes in with a bag and asks if I want to give bagging a go. It's been a while and I should keep up the practise. It's time to go...Linksy Lorna! Lorna is sitting peaceably on her gunyah; she's become much less of a stress-monkey. I remember when she was first in ICU and she would utter an eep! when anyone came near her. Barb tells me to pop the bag over her head and she starts eep again, but not in alarm; it sounds more like indignation. With Barb's help, she's in the bag and halfway to freedom. Yeah!

Oceanview Terry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I carry on with the other yards. It's good to see Oceanview Terry out here. He was in the aviaries for quite a while; it's always great to see koalas graduate to that next level of freedom, a step closer to recovery and release. As they all do, he's perched as high as he can get on his gunyah, overseeing the yard. When I replenish his leaf, he doesn't even move position, preferring instead to stretch lazily towards whatever leaf he can get from his forked tower.

Judy comes in to see if I need any help. Following Ashley's system, I've been replacing the leaf but not sweeping the yards, leaving that till last. Judy graciously assents to being the poop-sweeper for Jo, Harry and Jye. She then gives Links Lorna's old unit a good clean, blasting the gunyah clean with water.

There's still a unit to do in ICU. Chris, Tracy and I chip in, then I go and fold some towels in the yard. Back in the dayroom, I flick through the dayroom to see when Warrego Martin was released. There's been a lot of movement with admissions and releases. Cathie Sampson, the older koala I've been tending to quite a bit lately, was put to rest. His prognosis was not positive, so I'm glad he's out of any discomfort now.

O'briens Fiona
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

I'd seen earlier that O'Briens Fiona was no longer in the aviaries, which made me think that the cheeky FiFi Houdini must have been released. Sadly though, it turns out that she had put to sleep. She was an aged koala and had already demonstrated her difficulty surviving in the wild after release, judging by her weight loss upon her readmission. She had been sitting low in her tree and was underweight.

How I will miss her! She had such a vivid personality and a frisky way about her. She would bound up to us wranglers, eagerly demanding formula and foisting herself upon anyone who was a potential feeder. Yet this endearing facility was actually debilitating to her; her inexplicable hyperactivity was not merely unkoala-like, I'm guessing that it also contributed to her weight loss. Koalas are docile and sleep 20 hours a day for a reason. She was expending more energy than she could take in. I couldn't help but shed a tear when I read the news, but I'm glad that Fiona has made her final escape to that elusive gumtree in the sky where she's relaxed and feasting on leaf and formula!

Hindman Foxie
From koalawrangler's gallery.

There's another new koala from the Newcastle area, Anna Bay Sooty. She has notes on her, warning us handlers to give her a wide berth as she is particularly nervous and wary of human attention. She also has a pinkie in her pouch. A baby on that way. It makes things seem hopeful for the koalas.

Carol's in the treatment room feeding today's newcomer, Hindman Foxie. She was last in the hospital some six or seven years ago. Her left eye is completely clouded over; I'm not sure if this is permanent or curable. She's also got a joey in her pouch! Foxie's taking in the liquid Carol's feeding her. She's now in good hands.

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

Wet koalas, wet koalawranglers

I'm talking to one visitor about koalas with wet-bottom, but she suddently breaks off the conversation to report, "SorrySorry, at first I thought it was a leaf but, actually, you have a praying mantis on your head".

Lookout Harry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

It poured rain all night, accompanied by a wild wind that disconcerted the cat. She cried out several times during the night and demanded comforting. During these wakeful moments I wondered whether the koalas were okay during the blustery night.

I woke early and got to the hospital at 7.45. Strangely, Peter, the Sunday team leader wasn't there yet. I walked around the grounds and all koalas seemed well, albeit a little damp. Sandfly Jye and Birthday Girl were the only two koalas who were completely awake. Still no sign of Peter which was really peculiar. Jo, another volunteer, arrived and she gave Pete a buzz on his mobile. "Oh", I heard her say. "Daylight saving's ended". That's right, the clocks went back during the early hours of this morning. It wasn't now 8am, it was 7am! D'oh.

Shamefaced, I ask Peter if there's anything useful I can do to fill in the next hour, like rinse the feedpots of their anti-bac. He says, sure, and I can make up today's feed as well. I feel well practised after closely watching Amanda mixing up the feed, and then preparing it myself last Thursday. It's complicated though -- different dosages, different types of formula, some are administered by vollies, some by vets. So I talk to myself throughout the process, wetting face-washers to go under each filled pot. There's a black lump in the sink which, when I tweeze it out with my fingers, I recognise as being a tick. It might have fallen off one of yesterday's vollies.

Sandfly Jye
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Emma and I are assigned to yard 10. It's started raining again and I'm relieved to have my plastic poncho. Emma starts to feed Ocean Therese and I head in to feed Sandfly Jye. He's perched on his gunyah among the leaf fronds and accepts the first syringe of formula. He jerks his arm towards me, not in a swipe, but probably to grip onto me as he would while eating leaf. It becomes awkward to feed him this way as my arms are bare, so I give up until a little later when he's more in the mood to feed.

By now, Emma is feeding Tractive Golfer who is sitting on the edge of his gunyah where he's getting rained on. She's got no wet-weather gear and is getting wetter by the minute. I start to rake out Ocean Therese's yard -- she's also drenched but outside her the shelter of her leaf, hugging a tree. A rainjacket-clad Andrea comes through to do her rounds. I try to feed Jye some more. He's moved up to the highest fork of the gunyah, shirking the shelter of the overhanging branches of leaf. This time, he drinks more readily and lets me finish the pot.

Sandfly Jye
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

As I set out to sweep his yard, he jumps down to the lower beam and leans towards me. He's a funny one in terms of instigating human contact, chasing me around his gunyah the other day. I don't know if it's possible for him to jump on me...well, I know it's quite possible, I just don't know if he'd do it. I give him a wide berth and he scales down to the ground. At first he runs towards me, so I squat down to his level while I scrub out one of this leaf pots. I'm able to stand up and go about my cleaning and he generally leaves me alone; occasionally I feel a claw on my sock, but that's about it. He's bounding around his yard, scampering through puddles, not noticing the rain.


Sandfly Jye
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.
Lookout Harry and Warrego Martin are next. I swing Harry's umbrella around to shield him better from the rain. I empty one of his pots, revealing a cache of koala pellets in the fork of the beams once the leaf has shifted. Harry's face is encircled by leaf. Martin is cozy under his umbrella -- the only koala in the yard who's managed to stay completely dry. As I rake around his yard, he decides I've encroached his personal space and heads north...up to the spokes of his umbrella.

Warrego Martin
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Emma has looked after the koalas at the other end of yard 10: Links Lorna and Ocean Roy. We're now both drenched, despite our rain ponchos. We head inside for a cuppa and to dry off. Jim ducks his head into the day-room to ask if there's a trick to moving a koala off his towel. Jim's in ICU, warm and dry. I tease him that there are benefits to arriving late. He's replaced one of the towels on Anna Bay Miles's gunyah, but the koala is facing away from the direction Jim wants him to go and refusing to budge. I recall that Miles likes Melaleuca blosssoms so I head out to the leaf shed and try to hunt some out. I return with a branch. Miles nibbles the blossom enthusiastically, but won't be lured away. I suggest to Jim that he just leaves him; it's more distressing to force a koala to move that doesn't want to. He'll move when he's ready.

Danae is finished in the yards too, so she, Emma and I pitch in to help finish the units in ICU before the fresh leaf arrives. Emma takes Jupiter Cheryl, Danae takes Morrish Steven, and I take Calwalla Bill. His unit is wonderfully dry and quite clean. He hasn't kicked over his dirt or water, like many of the ICU koalas do; but, after I sweep away his paper and poop, he continues to drop pellets like airborne missiles, the same as on Friday.

Ocean Therese
From koalawrangler's gallery.

The leaf arrives and we re-don our ponchos and head back to the swamp of yard 10. We're realy drenched now, despite the wet-weather gear. Ocean Therese is still wrapped around her tree out in the rain, even though I replenish her leaf. Her fur looks soggy; I can squeeze it between my fingers and watch the rivulets run off. I could probably wring her out. She seems unpeturbed.

We do our best to give the koalas tall branches that droop to provide plenty of shelter. I struggle to stock Sandfly Jye's highest pot as I get asked a few questions by the tourists. I'm talking to one visitor about koalas with wet-bottom, but she suddently breaks off the conversation to report, "Sorry, at first I thought it was a leaf but, actually, you have a praying mantis on your head". I calmly call to Emma to get it off me. She doesn't want to touch it and flicks it off with a bunch of leaf.

The praying mantis that was in my hair!
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

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

Et tu, koalawrangler?

When I return to Sandfly Jye to continue fixing his leaf, he's on the ground. Nothing strange about that, except as soon as he sees me, he bolts straight towards me. What is it with stampeding koalas today? Could it be the Ides of March?

Sandfly Jye
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Amanda has assigned her and me to yard 10, along with John, the inside vollie who's now working at the koala-face. John and I head up to yard 10, feed pots in hand. Jo is just departing after doing her poop and leaf rounds. I explain to John the all-important rule always to wait until a uni researcher has given the all-clear in yard 10, ICU or the aviaries.

Tractive is up a tree, but Therese is down so John starts feeding her. There are a number of new residents in yard 10 since I was last here. Lookout Harry from the aviaries has moved into Macquarie Peter's old unit. Sandfly Jye, the piggy-nosed koala whose intensive care unit I mopped out last Thursday, is next to Warrego Martin. Ocean Roy is coming up from ICU so we're to set up a new unit on the other side of Jye. Tozer Tom has been moved back into ICU pending release.

I put out the collection boxes earlier, but wasn't sure that I'd put them in the best places. Amanda suggests one of the boxes from yard 9 should come up to yard 10. I head down there to retrieve it and see that the vollies there are feeding two of the koalas. One of them pleads with me to feed O'Briens Fiona. I go to ask where she is, when I see her on the ground at one of the girls' feet. The other koalas have been fed ahead of her and she's not pleased. I pick up her feed pot and she bounds towards me like a puppy...a puppy with huge, curved talon-like claws... I've fed her before, but only ever on a gunyah; this ground thing is new. She's so pushy. I crouch down and start gently syphoning the formula into her mouth, but she keeps flailing her arms towards me. It's not enough that the syringe is in her mouth; she's got to be holding onto something. It makes sense: when they eat, they are usually yanking leaf towards them, or at least holding onto a tree.

One flailing arm finally finds purchase in my bare forearm. She's not clawing to hurt me, so I'm not worried; he just wants me in her grip. To her, I'm basically a food supply. The claws don't draw blood; only pinch a little. The main trouble is that it's my feeding arm and I need to keep refilling the syringe. I get one of the ladies to hold the feed pot while I lean into Fiona to release her grip. The claws don't retract so the only way to pull free is not to pull, but to push gently towards them. I dash into the ICU, grab a towel and return. Fiona has ambled off and is harrassing another vollie. I draw her over with the syringe and, with a towel now covering my arm, continue to feed her. She is insistent about the food, like she's famished. Once it's gone, however, she bounds off up a tree and is gone. Eats, shoots and leaves.


Links Lorna
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I return to yard 10 with the collection box and make my apologies to Amanda. I head down to start on Links Lorna who looks remarkably relaxed, nestled in her leaf like a furry cabbage. She squints at me dozily, and doesn't even eep at me once. I rake around her yard, replace her water, and then empty the leaf at the other end of the gunyah. Next, I start on Sandfly Jye. He has such an unique little face with is always-flared nostrils framed in pink. He sits calmly on his gunyah without a peep.

Uni vet Jo arrives to do her medicating rounds. This time she's armed with a towel-covered stick to distract Oxley Jo. The stick ups the ante from simply having a madwoman yelling standing in front of Oxley Jo yelling "la la la"; Jo now needs instrumental distraction. When I return to Sandfly Jye to continue fixing his leaf, he's on the ground. Nothing strange about that, except as soon as he sees me, he bolts straight towards me. What is it with stampeding koalas today? First Fiona now Jye. Could it be the Ides of March? Snagglepus-like, I exit stage left, grabbing the rake off the ground just in time to put between Jye and myself. I'm certain that if I don't, he may climb me!

As I rush out of the yard with Jye in hot pursuit, Jo and Amanda are heading my way and explain Jye's behaviour. Jo has to give him some oral medication, so she decides it's best to bag him and plant him on the leaf rack to administer it. Amanda tells Jo that I'm trying to get experience handling the koalas. Jo waves the bag at me and I open the gate like it's a lion's den.

Jo gives me some pointers. You can't be tentative: you throw the bag over confidently and follow through. It's the quick and the dead in the fast-paced world of koala-bagging. Tentative is exactly how I feel. Jye is back on his gunyah now. Under Jo's guidance, I fling the bag over his head. The complication is that they're never just sitting there; they're firmly gripping a fork of wood. So this goes in the bag too and the koala is not about to let go. Instead, the koala is doing everything it can to nose its way out of the bag. Furthermore, with the bag over the koala, you lose track of which bit of the koala is where. Jo is giving me instructions like "grab his wrists" and most of it is going in one ear and out the other. Somehow, finally, it's done. One koala, bagged.

Ocean Roy arrives from ICU and is plonked in his new yard. He appears to like his umbrella. I carry on cleaning Jye's yard while he's otherwise occupied on the leaf rack. If a koala needs to be fed and they're not very used to feeding, it's easier to bag them and then only let the head of the koala out of the bag to feed. They tend to take the formula uncomplainingly in that position. Jo has to take another koala back to the treatment room and suggests I give the bagging a go. It's Lookout Harry this time. He's up high on his perch and have trouble with this one, although it all works in the end, with Jo's help. Jo says you get the hang of it after you've bagged 20 or so koalas...


Amanda & Sandfly Jye
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Even after his feed, Jye still won't stop chasing me around his yard. He starts running and then I start running, and then pretty soon we're doing laps around his gunyah. Amanda is next door and keeps saying "just crouch down, he won't do anything and he'll stop running". I find this hard to believe so she comes in and demonstrates. Sure enough, as soon as she crouches down, Jye comes to a halt and just sits and looks in front of her. It's just not what I expected to happen. Amanda looks so at ease, you can tell she's been doing this for three years.

Tractive Golfer
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Just as John is preparing Lookout Harry's leaf, I see Tractive Golfer backing down his tree. He shambles over towards us and predictably starts chewing on the leaf overhanging the leaf rack. He even climbs a leg of the leaf rack and noses around the under the leaf from there. Using a branch as a lure, I draw Golfer away towards his own leaf. It's a tried-and-true method I was Yasmin use so successfully in the past. He follows happily enough and settles onto his gunyah for a good feed.

The new leaf arrives and we start to replenish the pots. Links Lorna, formerly so calm, decides she's not giving up her leafy cushioning without a peep or two. I gently try to dislodge her from her spot and she eeps her disgruntlement. Amanda has given me a little more formula to feed Sandfly Jye. We reckon he might still be a bit hungry since some of his mixture spilt while he was being fed on the leaf rack. I also saw him sitting on the ground of his yard, which made me think Imight have tuckered him out. He's interested in the food for a while as I dribble it into his mouth; then he starts moving his head away.

Back in the day-room, I flick through the post-mortem reports. I see that it was necessary to euthanase poor Crestwood Dampier, the adult male that Barb was looking after. It was determined that his lack of movement in the hindquarters was actually paralysis. He wouldn't have stood a chance of surviving in the wild. It was more humane to send him to that great gumtree in the sky.

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

Distracting Jo

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

Lookout Harry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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

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

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


Anna Bay Miles
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

Feeding Fiona, Wonga & Kempsey

Now onto Kempsey. She gives me that searching, sightless look she has when I enter the yard. She's a big drooler; it's almost impossible to feed her without some of it dribbling onto her leaf or onto her.

Siren Gem
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I start my shift as I usually do on a Thursday, by dropping my weekend papers into the paper box at the end of the ICU corridor. I recall this time last week when Amanda and Andrea were racing around trying to capture the prodigal O'Briens Fiona. Amanda asks me to put out the money-boxes. These are four koala-shaped pieces of wood, painted in koala colours, with a coin-slot in its tummy and a padlocked money-box at the back. They are strung up around the inside of the yards for the tourists to make donations in. The other day there were three $50 notes. It tends to be the overseas tourists who make these kind of donations; not Australians, funnily enough. It's probably the exchange rate.

This Thursday morning, there's a new person on shift: Danae, an international volunteer from France. She's going to work closely with Amanda today to learn the ropes. First off, we all join Amanda in the yard outside the leaf shed for a leaf refresher course. She gives us each a branch of recycle leaf from the leaf shed and goes through the leaf basics. The branch stem needs to be as long as the leaf pot and an inch or so more. All the smaller branches and leaves below this level must be stripped or cut off to produce a clear stem.

Tricia has yard 9 to herself today, with a little assistance from Amanda and Danae who are also to do the joeys; Paul, Ashley and Jarrod are in yard 10 and I'm doing the one-koala yards: Innes Wonga, O'Briens Fiona and Kempsey Carolina. Jarrod is also assigned to the near-absent Henry in yard 4.


There are a few tourists around so I start feeding O'Briens Fiona. I feel familiar with her after the feed on Sunday. She leans out towards me and drinks most of the formula without a problem...until she decides to turn around and wander off down the gunyah into her leaf. I follow her around the gunyah and try to entice her with more formula from a couple of different angles until she finishes the pot and I can start raking her yard.

I always have 'leaf bruises' on my arms these days -- one or two greeny discolorations about the size of a 50c-piece caused by toting heavy branches to and fro. I don't usually feel them digging in, but the bruises are later proof. Right now, I have a massive bruise on my arm above the elbow -- this one from getting in the car awkwardly with bags of shopping and bashing into the doorframe. One of the tourists who was was watching me feed Fiona asks in hushed tones whether it's a "koala bite"! "Oh no", I quickly insist. I've never been bitten nor scratched...but then I haven't had the guts to handle them too much yet. I try to stay out the koalas' ways if at all possible. They would rather be up a tree in the wild than in hospital so they don't want humans all over them.

Next is Innes Wonga in the yard next door. He's been looking over at me feeding Fiona, waiting his turn patiently. He's a simple feed; drinks it all down and goes back to sleep in his leaf. I prepare both Fiona's and Wonga's recycle pots and wash the others in preparation for the new leaf.

Now onto Kempsey. She gives me that searching, sightless look she has when I enter the yard. She's a big drooler; it's almost impossible to feed her without some of it dribbling onto her leaf or onto her. She's used to having her mouth and chin sponged with a wet washer though, unlike the others who tend to pull away like you've slapped them. It's better than leaving the formula to dry on their fur, however, as they don't like that either. Fussy little blighters.

From Kempsey's yard, I notice that Siren Gem is climbing down his tree to the gunyah. I saw some food for him in the dayroom so I call out to Amanda that Gem is down, if she wants to feed him. Amanda has just been helping Andrea with Melaleuca Alfie, the one with the injured genitals. They need to be bathed every day; the less glamorous part of the job, unlike joey-feeding which must surely be the highlight.

Amanda returns with Gem's formula. She gives Danae a go. Everytime Gem starts to suck the formula, he reaches his little paw out to cling onto Danae's hand. The joey syringe is much more slender than the ones we use on the adult koalas. At one point, he's got his little claws around it and is tilting it upwards from his mouth like an old fashioned cigarette-holder.

The aviaries are still yet to be done so we all pitch in. Jarrod's almost finished Oceanview Terry and starts on Bellevue Bill next door. So they managed to catch Bill after his taste of freedom in yard 10. Now he looks sullen slouched on the gunyah in his aviary.


I tend to Lookout Harry who always seems to up-end his water and dirt. He eeps a bit when I start to roll up his towel at one end. He settles down when I bring in some fresh leaf. Paul's doing Ellenborough Nancy, which I'm glad about! There's a new koala in the aviaries called Jupiter Cheryl, which brings the number in there to six: more koalas than I've ever seen in that yard. Amanda and Danae clean her aviary and Danae helps Paul with Cathie Samson, the one from Sunday with the diarrhoea. Paul notices a tick inside Samson's ear. He suggests getting Amanda to pull it off, but she thinks it's best to leave it since it's so close to his face and will likely just upset the koala. It will drop off once it's full of blood.

With the aviaries done, I check in with ICU. Ashley and Jackie have them all under control. I tell them I'll mop up the corridor once they're done. Orr Palmerston, a new admission from Sunday, is being moved to an outside yard so his unit only needs fresh leaf; they'll leave the mopping till he's vacated.

I have tea in the dayroom. Amanda is filling in the book with all the details of feeds. I ask her about the name Melaleuca (given to the koala Alfie); she tells me it is a leaf (as well the name of a nearby caravan park). Apparently, it's part of the team-leader's job to check which types of leaf the koalas have eaten overnight so that they can keep a record of the best kind of leaf to get in for them. She shows me a matrix of different varieties and koala names. That's something I haven't grasped yet -- the different leaf varieties -- but it's something I'd like to learn. Amanda wants to train me up as her 2IC so that I would be able to fill in for her as team-leader if she can't come in one Thursday or goes on holidays. This will mean helping with the treatments and getting more familiar with handling the koalas generally. She wants me to shadow her on the next shift so I can do the handling as required and get more comfortable with it. Eek! Or should I say "eep!".

I learn that there's a rescue taking place later. I ask how this can be known in advance. Apparently, there's a bloke with koalas on his land; he wants them removed because they're distracting his cattledogs from their job. If we don't rescue the koalas, he may shoot them.

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

It's the quiet ones you worry about

...being a fruitcake koala means being a real koala -- not tame and used to human contact.

Siren Gem
From koalawrangler's gallery.

It seems that joey Siren Gem is learning bad habits from the older the koalas. I caught him trying to "nose" his way out of his yard on Friday. Maybe he's lonely without that reprobate Woody. Who knows, maybe he's developed Stockholm Syndrome and actually misses him.

Today I'm in the aviaries again. It's a bit deflating having to face Ellenborough Nancy again as she can be difficult to manoeuvre around. Andrea, one of the researchers from Sydney Uni, offers to bag her while I muck out her aviary. I tell her I'll try to manage with her there, but if she pulls any other ninja towel stunts, she's outa there!

I start with Oceanview Terry. He's managed to tip out all the leaf from one pot. I examine it and it seems to comprise mainly slender branches. I set out to prepare him a huge lush set of leaves this morning. Andrea comes through with a bag. She's taking Oxley Jo off to take some blood. I pounce on the opportunity to clean out her aviary sans koala. It's MUCH easier to clean an aviary/unit when there's no koala there; it's so much less stressful for them. Oh, and me.

Lookout Harry's aviary is easy-going; I learned from yesterday that he just needs a bit of leaf to amuse him. Then he lets you go about your business.

I dread finishing the other three: it means Nancy's next. What I really dislike about it, is the feeling that she has an aversion to me. Of course, such a thing isn't possible, but it's hard not to take things personally (like when she swipes at you). I confide in Peter that I really think Nancy doesn't like me; he jokes that Nancy doesn't like anybody. She's made more than one person bleed before. That makes me feel better. Being as wild as Nancy is means that she's as real as a koala gets -- not tame and used to human contact like many of the koalas around Port who've gotten used to people.

When I enter her unit, Nancy's sitting quietly in among her leaf. She is so quiet, it's eerie. I clean her aviary without a sound or a movement from her. It's not a good sign when feral koalas go quiet. It's better when they're a bit loco; it means they haven't given up the fight.

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

Fiona's great escape

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

Bonny Fire
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Siren Gem
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Ocean Kim & Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

Ellenborough Nancy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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


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

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