Where's Barry?

The first thing I notice upon returning to my blog is that the t-shirt I'm wearing in the masthead photo is very very blue. I had a fit of housewife brilliance the other week and decided the only way to get the brown dirt and green eucalyptus stains out of said shirt was to soak it in bleach. I promptly forgot about it and - hey presto! - I found myself with one pale lilac shirt, with glimmers of blue here and there. Sort of a batik effect. And wouldnt' you know it, the stains did not shift at all. Now, if anything, they're just more prominent because the shirt is now lighter.

But enough about me!

I worked the morning shift today and was allocated to yard 10 where I've been for the last few Sundays.

Peering into Westhaven Barry's yard, it's a case of "Where's Barry?". He's not on the gunyah that I can see, nor up his little tree, nor scurrying about the yard. Often when you can't see them, they're parked directly behind the gate, a bit like a small furry footman. But not this time. I ventured into the yard to inspect the gunayh in case he's tucked into (or, tucking into, more like) a spray of leaf.

Then I look up. Barry's ornamenting the centre of his umbrella. It's the perfect tree, with equally spaced branches that make it easy to climb and wedge yourself in.



Here's the video:


So Matt didn't get fed his nutritional formula today, since he couldn't be asked to come down. And I did ask him. Over and over. I reckon that observing the yard volunteers at the Koala Hospital mustn't be that dissimilar to watching patients ouside a mental health facility: we potter around our yards, picking up twigs and poop and nattering away to our allocated koala - a long involved albeit very one-sided conversation. Like watching someone you think might have 'a few kangaroos loose in the top paddock', only to realise that they're chattering away on a bluetooth headset.

Then there's young Kennedy Tristan. I remember the day he came in. It was November and he'd been hit by not one but two cars. He looked awful, with blood coming from his eyes.



But he made a rapid recovery and has been under observation in yard 10 for several weeks now. He has his own tree so that he maintains his climbing strength. He doesn't come down all that often, so he generally misses out on his formula. Today, though, he came down and was looking about himself rather insistently.

I made up some formula and went into his yard. And the chase was on! He scampered down from the gunyah and ran around the yard after me. I genuinely feared that if I slowed down, he might try to climb me. Finally, he jumped back onto his tree and I started drawing some formula up into the syringe. Apparently, I wasn't fast enough, however, as Tristan started hooting the traditional male bellow. It was remarkable seeing him do it up close. I managed to catch the tail end of it on video. It always sounds disembodied, like it's coming from somewhere else.



Then when I came to feeding him, he was soooo pushy. I couldn't get it in him fast enough; half of it ended up on his chin and shoulder:



After he finished, he took off up the tree again, leaving me feeling, well, a little used actually :)

Inside the hospital there was a bit of action going on. The supervisor was in, as well as some of the teamleader heavyweights, which is unusual for a Sunday. It turns out that they were off to Point Plomer where there have been bushfires this last week. Today was the first time wildlife rescuers were allowed onto the fireground, so Cheyne, Amanda, Judy and Peter were rigging themselves up in fireproof overalls and heading out there.

Barb was in to grab some leaf for her two homecare joeys. She's been rearing little orphaned Jimmy Barnes, who is only about 9 months old (ie three months out of the pouch). Settlement Point Bea has also been home with Barb these least two weeks as she'd been losing weight.

I asked Barb if she ever puts the two joeys together. Usually, she said, Bea was out in her own aviary, but owning to the hot weather she had brought her inside a few times and put her in front of the fan. Bea is about 2 years old now, and unlike other juvenile koalas of her age, she is happy to sit in a towel-lined basket with her front hands over the lip of the basket Kilroy-was-here style, just staring at Barb. This points to how NOT like a 'normal' koala she is. We suspect brain damage owing to her fall to the oyster rocks, which is what brought her into us in the first place.

Barb said when she put Jimmy in with Bea, he started 'eee'ing and squealing. He didn't like it. Barb reckons it's just that Jimmy's not interested in any older-lady cougar koalas!

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

Peter Garrett meets Birthday Girl

The Honorable Peter Garrett, Federal Minister for the Environment, visited the Koala Hospital today. He pledged his support for the addition of koalas to the threatened species list.

First he met with Barb who told him about hand-rearing the joey, Settlement Point Bea:

Peter Garrett discusses koala pap with Barb and Settlement Point Bea
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Earlier I had caught young Bea enjoying her lunchtime snack on film, here:



Then the Hon. Mr Garrett met with our 22-year-old pride and joy, Birthday Girl:

Peter Garrett meets Birthday Girl
From koalawrangler's gallery.

...and then shared a bit of choccy cake with Cheyne and Bob:

Peter Garrett talks koalas with Cheyne and Bob
From koalawrangler's gallery.

In other news, the gorgeous Oxley Highway Matt, he of the broken pelvis from yesterday's post, decided he was much better today and escaped his yard. He was located first thing this morning, pottering around the leaf shed (obviously wondering when breakfast was arriving).

Oxley Highway Matt
From koalawrangler's gallery.

He's been relocated one yard over where there is a nice tree for him to climb, complete with "trainer wheels" (i.e. a pole extending directly from the gunyah to the tree). Once his pelvis is fully healed, he'll be released back to the real world.

Click here to view more photos of Peter Garrett's visit to the koala hospital today.

"Waiter, there's a koala in my oysters!"

I do rather enjoy the visual of Barb decked out in her winter woolies at 8 o'clock of a night with a frisky young joey scampering about her...

*singing* "Bea-cause bea-cause bea-cause bea-cause bea-cauuuusssse...bea-cause of the wonderful things she does!"

Do I appear to be lost in a Wizard of Oz reverie (coupled with confused spelling)? No! It's just that I'm in a state of mild u-phoria, make that b-phoria, after an audience with the Koala Hospital's tiniest charge, the bea-utiful Settlement Point Bea.

I haven't been into the hospital for a while and, well, it was as busy as Horton Street on a Saturday morning (actually I don't even think Horton Street ever gets as busy as the Koala Hospital was today). Susan from National Geographic was there taking new footage and toting her video camera/boom mike contraption (you can read about her last visit here); Geoff was busy showing around some Friends of the Koala Hospital; and Barb had come in to pick up some fresh leaf tips for her little homecare joey, Settlement Point Bea.

I'd not met Bea before - the closest I'd come was to her was fixing a santa hat on one of her photos for the Koala Hospital Christmas card. In the flesh, she didn't look quite real...such a little creature yet one with a will of her own.

Bea's association with the Koala Hospital started with a call on 10 October. I must have been in that day because I recall the caller's words well, "a koala has just had a baby...".

This was not likely - in truth, the 'baby' is about the size of a peanut when it is born. This tiny unfurred 'pinkie' then crawls its way up through its mother's fur to the pouch where it spends the next few months suckling and growing and thinking very little about the outside world.

What the caller probably saw was this very small joey making an unscheduled move out of the pouch, as suggested by the caller's second statement: "...and the baby has fallen onto some rocks!".

Rescuers from the Koala Hospital were immediately dispatched.

Little Bea, a small female joey weighing only 445g, had indeed fallen from her mother's pouch and tumbled 10 metres onto some oyster-covered rocks. Fortunately, though, a layer of dried seagrass cushioned the joey's fall. According to our vet, the bones in a young joey are still growing making them less brittle. So luckily Bea only sustained a scratch near her nose which has nowhealed.

Since that day, Bea has been in homecare with Barb, one of the Hospital's regular foster mothers. Bea spends almost all her time in a reconstructed pouch. First, Bea grips onto a sheepskin roll (an ingeniously recycled car seat cover), which simulates the feel of the koala's mother's dense fur. She is then wrapped in a small square of flannelette sheet, and nestled inside a larger flannelette 'pocket'. This koala pocket sits in a washing basket on top of a comfy cushion that is first covered in protective plastic, then in another layer of flannelette sheeting. A baby blanket on top of it all keeps Bea tucked into 'bed'.

(Apologies for the blurry pics - all I had on hand was my mobile phone camera! Notice what's going on in the bottom right photo: Bea was fascinated with the boom mike, probably thought it was a long-lost relative!)
Bea stays cozily inside her flannelette pouch most of the day and night, except when it's feed time or play time. Barb had come into the hospital to get Bea a sprig of fresh nicholii leaf - her favourite. There is always a small bundle of leaf tips inside the basket where Bea can easily reach them.

Before Bea could attempt to eat leaf, we had to ensure that her gut contained the right flora to allow her digestive system to break down the eucalyptus leaf that is the koala's primary diet. The way joeys obtain this flora naturally is by eating their mother's pap - a special type of poo. Although Bea's mother was sighted in trees near where Bea was rescued, she could not be caught; this was unfortunate since she had visible 'wet bottom' (clinical signs of chlamydia), and needed treatment.

The only reason Bea is able to eat leaf at all is because we were able to source pap from a koala that died. At least one koala's death permitted little Bea to survive and flourish.

But leaf is not all Bea eats. She still take nutritional supplements from a syringe. barb was pleased to say that her nightly feeds have now decreased. Bea's basket sits on a chair by Barb's bed and she takes food at 10.30pm, 2am and then at 5am ... allowing foster Mum and Dad a bit of shut-eye between feeds at night. Apparently Barb knows when koala bub wants feeding by the rustling and gentle 'eh eh' noises coming from the pouch. This way, Bea also lets Barb know when she's wet her bedding and is ready for a pouch change!

An early point of concern had been Bea's fur colour; healthy koalas in NSW are generally grey in colour. Bea's fur tends towards brown - which can be a sign of deterioration and may have been result of her mother's being unwell due to wet bottom. She also caused some worry in the early days when she was only gaining about 30g a week. However, at 5.5 months old, Bea is doing well and is improving all the time. In the last week, however, she's gained 100g. She now weighs almost 700g.

Bea has designated 8pm every night as 'playtime'. I suppose it could be worse - playtime could be at 3am... Bea's idea of play is to crawl right out of her artificial pouch and up onto mother Barb, where she nips at Barb's eyebrows and nibbles the side of her nose. Indeed, Bea decided to give us all an example of this behaviour in the Hospital day room today. Barb was surprised by how full of bea-ns Bea was, despite the number of people around. She said she's not a particularly social creature. Unlike other joeys Barb's reared, Bea is a generally not a people-person. "She won't be a 'cuddly bear'", as Barb puts it. She prefers a bite to a kiss and cuddle, which is just how a koala should be.

As well as being a bit early for playtime, Barb was keen to settle Bea back into her pouch. You see, Barb wasn't wearing her special playtime outfit. And what was that, I was keen to know? A thick winter dressing gown that Barb dons, even in the verge of Summer; anything to protect delicate human skin from those pincer-sharp claws. I do rather enjoy the visual of Barb decked out in her winter woolies at 8 o'clock of a night with a frisky young joey scampering about her...