Showing posts with label Morrish Steven. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Morrish Steven. Show all posts

Thursday, 20 September 2007

Pacific Highway Vina

I feel a bit lethargic as I lock my car and head towards the hospital entrance, but in yard 2, Ocean Jane's fluffy round ears are peeking over her leaf pots and the sight immediately turns my mood around.

I can also see Perks Chris over behind her. He's soaking up the sun and waiting for his leaf. Emma and Jarod are moving around the main yard by the clothes line full of the wash-cloths we use to wipe the koalas little faces after feeding.

On my way inside, I say hi to Carol in the shop. Pete's the teamleader as usual and Judy's supervising today. I check the board to see whose yards I've got, then head out to start on Livingstone Clover. Jarod's in with Kempsey and I pass him her feed-pot. She's nestled in her leaf, not snuffling around on the ground as she was the other day. She's got a bit of a cold or infection at the moment. I noticed her nose was a bit snotty on Thursday, and they're giving her antibiotics at the moment to deal with that. She's one of our precious permanent residents we vollies give five-star care.

Mr Clover is down on his gunyah eating yesterday's leaf. Amanda released him back into his yard on Thursday, which you can see on this video:


Clover was found limping across a busy road when he was admitted. He had an infection in his left knee, possibly as a result of an earlier motor vehicle accident. Consequently, he hobbles around a bit. He's destined to be transferred to Australian Walkabout Wildlife Sanctuary since his disability would inhibit his survival in the wild. In all other respects, he's a healthy male so he'll hopefully be able to contibute to the koala numbers over there. A few days before the transfer was due to take place, he took a tumble from his tree in the rehab climbing yard and was taken into ICU for observation. Now he's fit as a flea, and always has a good appetite for his leaf.

I see Chris and Jim pull up in the leaf/rescue truck and Jim jumps out with a koala basket in tow. In the treatment room, it's Chris who looks like he needs treatment: he's clutching a towel around his hand and there's blood spatter on his jeans. He got in the way of the koala's mouth. King Norm (the koala) is fine; just needs relocating. Meanwhile, Chris wonders if he needs stitches. Koalas are rarely very aggressive, but when provoked can deliver a nasty scratch or bite.

Back in the yard, I sort out Clover's recycle and cut his fresh leaf. Somewhere between rescuing and releasing, Chris has managed to bring in today's leaf supply as well. Clover made sure he gave it a right good sniff to decide which were the choicest leaves:


I head in to ICU to see whether they need help in there. Peter grabs the dirt trowel I'm holding and replaces it with a feed pot. There's a new admission who was brought in on Thursday night. She's a small female called Pacific Highway Vina. She was hit by a motor vehicle on the great highway that travels Australia's east coast. Cheyne got called out to collect her at midnight and it was touch and go for a while whether she should be euthanased. She suffered a fractured jaw and injuries to her rump and arm.

Judy took her into home care on Friday night. Often very sick koalas or joeys are packed into baskets with a rolled up towel between their arms that stands in for the tree. But Vina was a feisty one and wouldn't stay in put, which is often a sign that they have the gumption to pull through. She wasn't interested in my feeding her so I asked Judy to step in since she's had more experience with her. Vina's jaw makes it hard for her to chew leaf so it's vital she takes in formula to keep her strength up.

While Judy's coaxing Vina to feed, I set about preparing her leaf and cleaning her unit. There's not a lot of poop, due to her low leaf consumption, but I roll what up what there is in her newspaper floor cover. I get a flashlike memory of playing pass-the-parcel, only generally with sweets and little toys, rather than koala poo pellets(!).

Jim's looking after Lighthouse Barry who is a big old man koala suffering from what looks like conjunctivitus in his left eye. Apparently there's no eye there though, only an infection on the outside, which is being treated with a cream.

Emma's in with Pacific Sam who's a 'repeat offender'. This is the third time he's been in the hospital that Emma knows about, and I remember his second visit from my early days of a wrangling. He's got a skin condition on his shoulder called hyperkeratosis, which is just a thickening of the skin tissue in a certain spot. It looks like he's been scratching at it which is why that suspected he'd been attacked my a dog, but fortunately this was not the case. It reminds me of the fate of poor Morrish Steven, one of the great successes of the uni drug trials. He was cured of his Chlamydia only to be brought in DOA some months later after a dog attack.

According to the daybook, another koala, Chisholm Yalkara, met the same fate. On a positive note, Ocean Flyer who had been brought in after falling from a power pole, has lived to fly another day and was released during the week. Also, sweet little Oxley Kizza, the sweet-faced koala who had reminded me so much of dearly departed Oxley Jo, was released during the week, as was Brindabella Sophie. A suspect growth showed up on Sophie's ultrasound which didn't bode well, but for once we were glad to be wrong--she was given the all-clear by our vet and set on her way.

I start tidying up a bit outside in the yard as Judy goes in to give Kempsey her medication. Judy has looked after a few joeys in her time and I lament to her the dearth of joeys in the place. Of course, it's really a good thing that joeys are being cared for by their mothers and not needing to come into our care, but I still get wistful looking at yard 6 where there have always been joeys since I began wrangling here over six months ago.

Breeding season is almost upon us now, which may mean more joeys coming through. There is a koala called Roto Abigail who lives in the grounds outside the hospital. Abigail has a joey who's big enough to ride on her back. Apparently, on Friday, several of the vollies were in thrall to the antics of a wild male pursuing Abigail over the treetops. It's situations like this where joeys can get separated from their mother. The vollies were holding out towels ready to catch either mother or joey should she fall, but fortunately this didn't happen as Abigail managed to evade her marsupial lothario.

Click here and here to view more of this week's koala hospital snaps.

Thursday, 31 May 2007

All quiet on the koala front

It's the promise of joey love that draws me to Kimmy's yard. At that moment, Peter enters yard 9 bearing leaf. He joins me over where Kimmy is holding court. She's crept as far as she can up a low fork in order to lean in towards us Oxley Jo-fashion, like a cocktail olive on a toothpick.
I've been popping into the hospital over the last few days, not to wrangle, but to catch up with different hospital folk. Compared to when I started here back in January, it's a different place. For the first time in my experience, the units in ICU are completely empty! Strolling through the ICU hallway, I see some old names still up on the individual whiteboards; they seem like a catalogue of times gone by -- Innes Tony, Ocean Therese, Kennedy Easy, Morrish Steven, Candelo Cool; and some new names, the quick turnarounds that are quickly diagnosed and (hopefully) released -- Garden Wellie, Hart Jumper, Change Gunyah...oh wait a minute, that's probably not a koala name :)

Actually, the whole of the ICU is having a spring (make that, winter) clean. All the gunyahs (the wooden beams the koalas sit on) have been removed pending replacement. I also hear that the whole place is to have a fresh lick of paint too.

Links VTR was released in earlier in the week, by his own "mum", Barb, the lady who raised him from no more than a stocking-filler to the robust little fellow that delighted everyone who cast their eye on him. Anna Bay Miles has also been returned to his melaleuca-laden home of Anna Bay. Anna Bay Sooty is in an outside yard instead of an aviary. Morrish Steven was released and Candelo Cool has been moved up to join Tractive Golfer in yard 10.

It may seem like the koala hospital is grinding to a halt -- far from it. Winter is the time for catching up with the tasks that simply don't get a look-in during the face-paced, full-house of mating season. There's working on new displays, updating the details of koalas available for adoption, yard maintenance, detailed cleaning, improving our processes, etc.

Ocean Kimmy is still putting on weight (no doubt since she doesn't have to share her tucker with Linksy!). Kempsey, Bonny and Birthday Girl are the same, but Wiruna Lucky has developed the curious habit of storing mulched up leaf in the side of her cheek, giving the impression of a swollen face. Apparently, it's not uncommon in older koalas. If we notice it, we're to massage the leaf down and she should swallow it right away. Funny koala!

Birthday Girl
Birthday Girl
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Now it's the Sunday shift; Jim and Paul are in yard 10 today, while Barb and John are doing the smaller outside yards. I'm in yard 9 on my own today. Ocean Kim is a sleeping grey lump in the tree over in yard 9a. She looks like she's a sleep.There's only two koalas left in this main yard: Bonny Fire is up a tree (although I hear that she makes more of an appearance since Lucky's moved over to yard 10; there's obviously some cohabitation issues going on there); and Birthday Girl is uncharacteristically planted down on the main gunyah looking at me with interest. She's usually the permanent fixture on the standalone gunyah nearer to yard 9a, but today she has the main gunyah all to herself. I start feeding her and she submits to the process willingly.

Birthday Girl's a large koala for a female; she's curled in the intersection of the beams with her not inconsiderable furry bottom protruding. Some of her fur is damp in places. She reaches towards me but without much effort or enthusiasm. She's arthritic, plus she's probably learned that breakfast is a sure thing. After the feed, she curls in on herself and goes to sleep.

Birthday Girl
Birthday Girl
From koalawrangler's gallery.

It's actually nice doing this yard alone; it's got a different configuration to the other yards so it requires some coordinating that's useful to do things at your own pace. There are six pots of leaf: two for recycle and four for fresh. As I prepare the recycled leaf -- separating the best of yesterday's leaf from the chewed or trampled, to replenish the red-striped recycle pots -- I look towards yard 9a and meet eyes with Ocean Kim. She's awake in her high tree fork and is surveying my actions at the leaf-rack with interest. When she sees me looking at her, she dislodges herself from her forky lokout and picks her way down the tree to the gunyah.

It's the promise of joey love that draws me to Kimmy's yard. At that moment, Peter enters yard 9 bearing leaf. He joins me over where Kimmy is holding court. She's crept as far as she can up a low fork in order to lean in towards us Oxley Jo-fashion, like a cocktail olive on a toothpick.

"Ugly little thing, isn't she?" I joke to Peter. Not. She's insanely cute. She's actually just about the most gorgeous piece of koala fluff you're ever likely to meet. Her ears are huge, round and have long tufts of fur radiating from them, making her resemble something of a mousketeer. Kimmy has a cluster of hairs poking out at odd angles that constitute her eyebrows and endow her with a quizzical expression.

What attests most to her joey purity is how very white her bottom is. It's like a little piece of sheepskin flecked with grey at the edges. We're given front-row seats to said bottom as Kimmy soon loses interest in us, turns tail and returns to her gunyah to see what yesterday's nicholii tastes like.

I return to the leaf-rack and finish off Bonny's and BG's leaf. Bonny's still high in her tree so it looks like she'll miss out on her brekky. I return to my leaf-cutting and finish the main yard before preparing leaf for Kimmy, who tucks in with her usual joey abandon, summoning a small audience of visitors to snap away at her cuteness.

Jupiter Cheryl and Barb
Barb checking Jupiter Cheryl for ticks
From koalawrangler's gallery.

After finishing my yard, I duck in to visit who's recently been readmitted. She was found wandering a significant distance from where she was released. She seemed disoriented and was no doubt exhausted from her travels and from the number of ticks they found on her. She's in for observation and will soon be released again. Barb's found 8 ticks on her today alone.

Anna Bay Sooty is in the yard next door. I haven't seen her in the light before, since she spent her first few weeks with us in one of the aviaries. Jim and I both enter Sooty's yard to chat with Barb about her. Sooty used to be very timid but has come out of her shell somewhat. You can see that she has a slightly protuding tummy where she's carrying a pinkie in her pouch. There was a possibility that her body might reject the pinkie after her recent eye surgery to have her third eyelid removed, following her treatment for conjunctivitis. That risk appears to have passed now fortunately. It would great if she is still in the hospital when her joey makes an appearance!

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

Thursday, 10 May 2007

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.
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.

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.

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.

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 & Birthday Girl
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.

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.

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
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
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
Bathing lorikeets
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

Monday, 30 April 2007

Taking Nancy home

There has been a catalogue of koala machismo in the ICU, from dirt-tipping and horny grunting sounds to the pawing/chasing/foot-nibbling by that lothario Morrish Steven towards Emma, one of the other vollies. Now I'm convinced he's Jim Morrison's koala reincarnation.
I scan the whiteboard to get a quick feel for the lay of the land: who's moved, who's been shipped out. I see a note next to Ocean Therese's name. Her transfer to the Walkabout Wildlife Sanctuary at Calga (near Gosford) has been approved. No! I knew it was coming but how I will miss that fuzzy little face around here! I see from their website that she will have an ex-Koala Hospital companion in a fellow called Keith the koala, formerly known as Parklands Keith. He looks a nice chap, a bit like Wiruna Lucky (if that's his picture on the homepage). I can see a trip to Gosford some time in the future to visit our Therese.

There are FOUR koalas being released today! Three uni koalas from yard 10 -- Ellenborough Nancy, Ocean Roy and Oceanview Terry; as well as one KPS koala from ICU, Lake Private. Wow! I'm so glad for them. I remember when it was almost a full house in here a couple of months ago; now that mating season is over and we're heading into Winter, the koala traffic is due to slow down.

I'm not assigned to yard 10 today, but I decide to head up there to say goodbye to Therese, Roy, Nancy and Terry. When I get up there, Therese is asleep and curled into a grey ball. Innes Tony, however, new transferee to yard 10, is wide awake and looking handsome on his lofty perch (in Sandfly Jye's old spot). It's like I'm seeing Tony in a whole new light -- literally. Whenever koalas are transferred from the ICU or aviaries into the yards, they take on a more vivid aspect. They're also generally further along in their recuperation so, coupled with the warm morning light, they positively beam when they're out here. Today is a bit grey and rain is threatening, but Tony looks proud of his new digs. Ocean Roy is on the lookout for any activity from the yard.

I've been assigned the joeys and ICU. Being assigned the joeys doesn't necessarily mean ever seeing the joeys (except as fuzzy grey blobs clinging to their treetops). Today is not different; there's no sign of them, just their mess: the telltale evidence of their nocturnal leaf party. The choice tips are gnawed off the branches, the twigs are snapped in their stampede to fresh leaf, and the ground is covered in poo and half-chewed leaves. It's the koala equivalent of a bunch of kids leaving empty chip packets and half-drunk cans of cola on the floor of the rumpus room.

Indeed, it's like they're in training for the carry-on that we've been witnessing in the ICU lately. By yesterday morning, Morrish Steven had completely stripped the towels from his gunyah and torn the bark from the wood underneath. I'm reliably informed that Calwalla Bill and Lake Private did the same. Cheyne says she's been observing this behaviour in the ICU for a few days now and has finally put two and two together. For the last week or so, these boys have been sharing ICU with Oxley Nina, a girl koala... Three males sharing a confined space with one female means they've got something to prove about koala manhood.

If they were deer, they'd be locking antlers; if they were birds, they'd be puffing out their chest feathers; if they were gorillas, they'd be beating their chests; if they were stockbrokers, they'd be bragging about their big share portfolios. Yes, these boy koalas have been showing off to impress Nina. Big time. All this room-trashing behaviour is about proving to Oxley Nina which one of them is the big koala on campus. (Do they know she's *lowering my voice* with child?!). There has been a catalogue of koala machismo in the ICU, from dirt-tipping and horny grunting sounds to the pawing/chasing/foot-nibbling by that lothario Morrish Steven towards Emma, one of the other vollies. Now I'm convinced he's Jim Morrison's koala reincarnation.

Since Nina was released, and it's boys-only in ICU, they've returned to their usual ball-scratching nonchalance. (It's true, they do that a lot). I look in on Morrish Steven and his unit is pristine; so is Bill's and Private's.

It's Lake Private's last morning with us before his release, so he gets a special goodbye feed. His last supper in captivity. I've never actually fed Private before and it's funny how koalas vary in their feeding manners. He's eager but gentle at the same time. I have a little trouble with the syringe (the black stopper keeps coming off in the tube and I have to replace it). Private waits patiently between squirts. All the while I'm feeding, Private is squeezing out poo pellets like a production line. Wow, now that's feeling at ease in your surroundings. I'm not sure how I should feel about it. Suddenly, he jolts away from the syringe as though something unexpected has happened; I look down -- now he's peeing. He's been taken surprise by his own peeing mechanism. We both wait until he finishes peeing and recommence feeding. Ah, to be an animal and have no responsibility for personal hygiene or social norms.

Since Private's being released today, I don't need to clean his unit until he's gone. Instead I start on Calwalla Bill. There are no issues, despite the "strike out" warning on his door. He moves when I need him to, following the leaf pot to where I've moved it down the clean end of the gunyah. I can see that Morrish Steven is much mellower as well. I have to feed Steven as well and he is notable for his good behaviour: no grabbing. He still reaches out towards me when there's a break in the formula flow, but it's not the swipey urgency I've seen him demonstrate before. I notice that he's given his syringe quite a serve in the past though. The nib is scarred where he's gnawed at it on his back teeth. But he's gotten better at feeding now; he doesn't try to draw the syringe into his mouth like he used to. I can hear him slurping the liquid in and then stopping to swallow. I stop the flow each time I hear him do that. After feeding, Steven is completely mellow, even cracking a yawn before settling down for snooze.

I have a brief chat with Peter while I'm out cutting leaf. He's heading to Ellenborough to release Ellenborough Nancy. I would dearly love to accompany him since I've never been on a release before. I've also had a bit to do with Nancy while she's been in here. I was convinced she didn't like me for a while, after she took a swipe at me one day in the aviaries. I've since learned not to take such behaviour to heart. (That's right: Linksy doesn't really love me and Ellenborough Nancy doesn't really hate me; we're just leaf purveyors or annoyances to them. It's nothing personal!) Because Nancy heralds from a very rural part of the Hastings (unlike Port where koalas and humans tend to cohabit), she struggled more than most with the confines necessary for her treatment. It was satisfying to see her moved from an enclosed aviary to an outside yard, now I'd like to see her returned to her real home in the wilds of Ellenborough.

I watch as Judy brings Nancy into the treatment room in a bag. You know it's her by the way she's squirming under the canvas. She's not a koala to take any kind of confinement lightly. Judy wants to give her a final weigh-in before her release, but Nancy won't settle in the bag. When she's put on the scales her head pokes out the top and the handlers have to do their best to contain her just long enough to get the reading. Judy removes her from the bag, bearing her towards her basket in the customary fashion by her forearms; all the while, Nancy's twisting her back legs wildly trying to catch her capturer with claws. Ellenborough Nancy is a basket-case to the very end. The sooner we get this wild thing back to her wilds, the better!

I ask Tracy and Chris if they wouldn't mind cleaning out the final unit in ICU -- Walcha Barbie's -- so that I can head off with Pete. They're happy to, so we head off to Ellenborough with Nancy soundless in her covered basket on the backseat. It's a 57km drive to Ellenborough. Up the Oxley Highway, the urbanisation of Port quickly retreats and we find ourselves amid towering trees. It's alternately sprinkling and raining steadily. Fortunately, Nancy's been getting used to the rain so the transition won't be as great for her as for, say, Lake Private, who's been warmly ensconced in an inside unit while at the hospital.

I've got a map drawn up my Cheyne showing where Nancy was originally found, which was near the Ellenborough police station. Pete and I wonder about how she was brought in; Pete conjectures that perhaps a copper rang it in. I imagine it went down something like this:

"Hello, koala hospital? We've got a really ornery koala here in the lock-up..."

If her antics in the avaries are anything to go by, I can imagine her rattling her metal cup along the bars with the best of them.

Ellenborough Reserve
Ellenborough Nancy's new backyard
From koalawrangler's gallery.

As we approach Long Flat, the trees start to really soar and there's mist hanging down from the mountains like cobwebs. Clouds obscure the peaks. It's beginning to rain more heavily, but we're here now with a koala who's freedom is in sight.

Pete carries her basket towards a huge nicholii tree, a perennial koala favourite. We decide, however, that the trunk is a bit broad. Nancy's been used to gripping a narrow gunyah so we want to give her something a little easier to climb on her first day out. We move around the edge of the reserve, nearer a great density of trees and find the perfect tree. Pete strips off any loose bark that might get in her way. The tree's not too wide and has a low fork for Nancy's to nestle into. Here's how it went down:

Peter with Ellenborough Nancy in her release basketEllenborough NancyEllenborough NancyEllenborough NancyEllenborough Nancy
Ellenborough NancyEllenborough NancyEllenborough NancyEllenborough NancyEllenborough Nancy

It took her a few seconds to come to grips with her new surroundings (remember: she'd been in the dark in the back of a car for the last 45 minutes). Then, instead of climbing the tree we'd prepared earlier, she takes off out of the basket, scampers across the path and takes off up another tree. The's a tricky sheet of dangling bark she has to negotiate her way around, but we can see her arm muscles working. Watching her dig in with her claws reminds me somewhat of a rock-climber securing each precarious step with a spikey boot in the rockface. She looks like an old hand at it and I stand and watch her careful progress, ignoring the increasing rain. Nancy stops and peers down at me and Pete every once in a while. It's like she's saying, "Can I really stay here?".

By the time, we head back to the car, she's extraordinarily high up and perched in a sturdy tree fork. I'm shocked by how small she looks in her new, majestic and endless surrounds. She's like a tiny speck in the wilderness, which she's once more an organic part of. Good luck to you, Ellenborough Nancy!

Ellenborough Nancy
Ellenborough Nancy in her new home
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

Sunday, 8 April 2007

Foxie lady

Jo asks us who we think should be moved into Lorna's old yard from the inside units or the aviaries. It's like trying to decide who should be upgraded from a standard room to a suite.

Ocean Therese
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I couldn't keep my eyes open last night after the action-packed koala hospital open day. Despite hitting the sack at 8.30pm, I still managed to oversleep this morning. I've given Pete a call to let him know I'll be a bit late.

Emma's in yard 3 when I arrive. Things aren't quite back to normal in the dayroom yet. There're umbrellas and display boards stacked near the tables that had been scattered around the hospital forecourt the day before. The koalas are all where they should be -- and that's the main thing! My name's not on the board against a particular yard or unit. John's got the aviaries as usual. Jim's out in the leaf skip; not by it, in it. He's trying to stamp down the overflowing leaf, making heavy footsteps in a circular path around the skip. I shout out, "they're not grapes you know". This is as witty as I get at 8.15am on a Sunday.

Tracy's in yard 9 feeding Birthday Girl. Peter and Chris are contemplating Bonny Fire. I greet Pete with the question, "so what's my punishment?" (for being late). I'm allocated to ICU (no punishment at all). I ask him if it's okay to help Jim out first in yard 10 before starting on ICU together. Chris calls me over to look at Bonny's foot. They reckon she's got a tick between her toes. Pete's gone to find some tweezers. Bonny's not pleased with the close attention we've been paying her and starts to scoot up the pole connecting her gunyah to a nearby tree. Chris shows he's been learning some koala lore by gently pushing on her forehead to keep her in place while we both have a closer look. I reckon it's got to be a tick too.

I grab some of the good orange leaf cutters and head into yard 10. Jim's already raked Golfer's area and made up his recycle pot. I start on Ocean Therese. She's down from her tree and wrapped around a fork on her gunyah. She leans towards me as I enter, nosing the air. I can't feed her or touch her. She's being dehumanised for her impending transfer; although this is a contradiction in terms for Therese who's probably even more human-friendly than Kempsey Carolina (which is saying something). Compared to the other wild koalas we get at the hospital, she's like a living Gonzo or Fozzie Bear, more fuzzy animated creature than animal. They say she might have incurred brain damage from her car accident last year, which might account for her gentle docility.

She climbs down from her gunyah and approaches me. I'm not worried she'll climb me like Sandfly Jye might try to do. It feels like she must want to be near, but, as Cheyne always says, it's more likely that to Therese I'm just a walking purveyor of leaf or formula. So I try not to touch her, which is almost impossible as she's virtually walking into me. Then she sits back on her haunches, not pushy like O'Briens Fiona used to be. She just lets me do what I need to, raking up her poo and clearing one pot of leaf.

A lot of poop and dried leaves appear to have gathered near the edges of her yard. I start to arrange it into a few smaller piles. As I sweep one up into the dustpan, I I catch a glint of aubergine among the poo pellets. Is it a tick? I shake the pan so as to sort through the oval objects better, momentarily feeling like I'm panning for gold -- trying to find that glossy tick among the dull droppings. No luck, it all goes into the poo strainer near the hospital's back entrance.

Ocean Roy
Ocean Roy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

As Jim starts on Ocean Roy, he asks me what happened to Links Lorna. It's nice to be able to say she's been released. Jim confesses he's a little sad; she was a bit of a favourite for him. I know just what he means. You develop feelings of fondness for these animals even if those feelings are never reciprocated. The more you're with them, the more you become aware of their different behaviours and vulnerabilities that we then anthropomorphise into "personalities". Then it's not just any koala that's freed, it's a specific koala that you cherish particular memories of. We wranglers are not veterinary experts; we're people with pets and kids and (usually) non-medical day-jobs. So we're non-scientific about our responses to being around koalas so regularly. I can't work this closely with particular animals for weeks on end without feeling a poignant sense of loss when they're gone. Lorna will always be "Eepy" to me, because of her characteristic you're getting to close warning noise which sounded just like eep.

Jim's finishing Oceanview Terry's yard so I start on Sandfly Jye's. Jye immediately jumps down from his perch and races towards me, something he's becoming known for. I'm more familiar with his antics now so I don't even crouch down. He stands beside me as I rake, until suddenly I feel his claws on my lower leg. Hmmm. Best not stick around and see what happens next. Peter brings in the food for Golfer and Jye. So Jye's probably eager to be fed. I try to feed him while he's on the ground, but he's grabby so it's not working. I leave the unit and wait until he's bored with roaming and regains his high fork. He usually feeds best (in my experience) when he's above you; even on the gunyah beam he tends to grab, which makes feeding a bit hazardous. Up on his perch, he takes the food complacently, poking his pink tongue out rhythmically; it's the same colour as his flared pink nostrils. Jim says Jye also prefers to feed from his left-hand side and he's right. Probably cos most of the wranglers would be right-handed.


Morrish Steven
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.
Jye's more subdued now so I can finish raking his yard. Jim's finished Ocean Roy and Links Lorna's unit is empty since her release, so we've done all we can until the leaf arrives. We head in to ICU. I start Lake Private, Jim is in with Innes Tony, Chris is next door with Anna Bay Miles, Ian's in with Calwalla Bill and Emma is trying to fend off Morrish Steven, in vain. Steven is known for being "grabby". He's not striking out, he just likes to reach out for you when you're near. Not sure what he wants exactly; it's probably just his way of expressing that he'd like some fresh leaf, please! Today he's even scampering around the ground and, according to Emma, biting at her knees.

Luckily Lake Private is quite placid. He's a wet-bottom so he gets a new towel, but the hardest thing is persuading him to move down to the fresh-towel end of the gunyah. He does so lingeringly and in reverse. When the leaf arrives I see that Chris has brought in Melaleuca and there's a bundle with a flourishing bunch of blossoms. I mention this to Chris, knowing how much Anna Bay Miles likes them. Miles is doing much better now; I recall Robyn saying that they didn't think he would make it. Perhaps it's the melaleuca! I wonder if Anna Bay Sooty loves it as well?

I see Barb in the treatment room and ask her how things turned out with Nulla Sam, the one found curled up on the ground. When I saw him yesterday, he was lying, unmoving, in his basket. His eyes were flickering open and closed; he really looked like he wouldn't last the night. Sam's lymph glands were also dramatically swollen. Barb had called the vet in who elected to put him to sleep. I'm pleased to hear that they were able to end his pain.

Next I start on Hindman Foxie. I want to do her unit all in one go since she is carrying a joey and is highly stressed. With the leaf here, I hope to restock her leaf to distract her while I finish cleaning the rest of her unit. Her towel is very clean so I check with Peter whether it's worth changing it. Changing is the more distressing part of the cleaning process since the animal has to be encouraged to move at some point, although we work around the animal as much as possible. Peter looks at the whiteboard and decrees that since she's not a wet-bottom, it's okay to leave it. Perhaps avoiding the stress of a towel change will offset whatever benefit is gained by a clean towel?

Foxie still keeps me in sight the whole time, as much as she can with one blind eye. I've noticed this to be a particular trait of koalas with vision in only one eye: Links Lorna and Ellenborough Nancy. Being partially blind must make them even more sensitive to potential danger.

I try to give her flourishing bunches she can hide in. When she moves down the leafy end, I can see her bulging pouch in all its glory. It's uplifting to see evidence of the koala population replenishing itself, despite everything that is working to deplete it (in particular, chlamydia and urbanisation).

Back in yard 10, Jye is sitting in one corner of his yard in an almost meditative pose. Jo is talking to Peter next door in Links Lorna's old yard. She pops in and expertly lifts him back onto his gunyah, where he returns to his slumber and doesn't move for the rest of the afternoon. Jo asks us who we think should be moved into Lorna's old yard from the inside units or the aviaries. Yard 10 is furthest from the treatment room so it can't be a koala who still needs close monitoring such as Bellevue Bill or Innes Tony. Condon Geoff is soon to be released so he may as well stay in the aviaries. Morrish Steven is too naughty (see above), and beside, he hasn't been here that long. It's like trying to decide who should be upgraded from a standard room to a suite.

Another contender is Ellenborough Nancy. I think she's the perfect choice. As one of the wildest koalas, it would be wonderful to graduate her to a yard that is fully outside. The umbrella will have to go though, in case she tries to use it to escape. This gets Jim and I to thinking. The koalas with only two leaf pots and no umbrella need a third recycle pot simply to provide more shelter for them. It's important to a koala's koalaness to have a spray of leafy branches to nest under. Jye and Oxley Jo both have a third pot with towering branches, but Oceanview Terry, Ocean Roy and Lorna's vacant yard (sans umbrella) do not.

Jim, Peter & Oceanview Terry
Oceanview Terry wonders what Jim and Peter are up to down there
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Jim dons his Bob the Builder cap and retrieves some wide blue tape from his car. Peter tracks down some wire and some new leaf pots. I source the red tape that demarcates the recycle pots. Jim sets about tightening the existing wire on the gunyahs. Lookout Harry takes umbrage at this and gives Jim a swipe; fortunately, he's not hurt. Terry and Roy get new pots taped in place. There are no metal pot brackets so this will have to do. It means that the pots can't be taken down for a proper scrubbing, but they're designed for sheltering-leaf not eating-leaf.

Pete I grab some leftover leaf from the leaf shed and start to fashion new shelters for Terry and Roy. Terry actually treats his new bunch like it's a tree trunk and wraps himself around it, pinned in at the back with a tree fork. It really doesn't look comfortable, but there's still the higher fork climb up to if he wishes.

After my shift, D____'s parents come in to the hospital and I give them a guided tour around the yards. Ocean Kim delights us by clambering down from her leafy perch and tucking into the leaf there. Before we leave, D____'s folks adopt a koala, little Links VTR.

On my way home, I drive down Koala Street and past O'Briens Road. It gives me pause, as I remember funny little O'Briens Fiona, now fattening up in the heavenly treetops.

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

Saturday, 31 March 2007

Bye-bye Burraneer Henry *sniff*

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, 18 March 2007

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
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.