From chocolate koalas to the real thing

I've been overseas for a couple of weeks so the closest I've come to koalas has been the chocolate-filled kind we scoffed plenty of in Japan. The biscuits were ubiquitous at train station shops so we stocked up on them for long rides on shinkansen. One time I couldn't see them at the counter so I flapped my hands at my ears while saying "koala" in my best Japanese accent. Amazingly, the lady knew exactly what I meant. Saying "koala" alone would probably have sufficed, but then I wouldn't have given all those other people on the train platform a demonstration of a koalawrangler on holiday. (The bikkies are called Koala's March, by the way,and each packet contains up to 17 different koala designs. Importantly, they donate part of their profits to the Australian Koala Foundation).

Koala biscuits
From koalawrangler’s gallery.

Now I'm back at the Koala Hospital with the real, inedible kind of koala, and I realise how much I've missed them! There have been visits from old koala patients since I've been gone, some positive, some not so positive: Newport Bridge Gloria, one of the koalas successfully treated under the Sydney University drug trials, was picked up wandering around an auto parts place near the highway. She was checked out and returned to a safe, more koala-friendly place. Calwalla Bill was also brought in for a check-up. He's the one who gave one of the vollies a swipe in ICU when he was last in. He's one of those koalas with a slightly grubby-coloured bottom. The hospital sometimes gets calls about about him from savvy Port Macquarie residents who know a bit about wet-bottom and think they've come across a new sufferer. He turned out to be fine and was sent on his way.

Other koalas revisiting us didn't fare so well. Innes Wonga, who had a gammy knee like our current resident Livingstone Clover, was found limping and died on arrival, as did Koalasaurus Inches. Little Cathie John, one of the joeys being raised by her dedicated homecare Mum also passed away. Before I went away, Judy told me that he had developed an infection and was being seen to by the vet. When I saw that his name was off the homecare board, I feared that he might not have pulled through. A part of the problem was that never quite There are more optimistic stories too: Oxley Sooney came in with a limp, was treated and released. Hastings Teal was admitted and then relocated to a safer area.

Candelo Cool
From broken_puzzle's gallery.

Candelo Cool's still with us. She had a return to ICU for a bit because of heavy rains (where Emma caught her lounging around on her gunyah!), but now she's back outside in the sunshine in yard 10. Ocean Golfer, the other Golfer's (Tractive) masculine competition, is still recovering in yard 10.

The flamboyantly named one-eyed Herschel Grady is the current wet-bottom in ICU. Barton Glen is in ICU with conjunctivitis. There's also Jonas Absalom Blinky who has conjunctivitis and who tumbled into a residential swimming pool.

Of course, the highlight of the hospital right now is Anna Bay Sooty who has newfound celebrity status. When Sooty came to us, she was placed in an outdoor aviary where she proved to be very skittish. She shied away from human contact, usually burying herself in her leaf when handlers were cleaning her unit. We soon discovered that Sooty was hiding more than herself away; she was also hiding a rather special secret. She was carrying a pinkie, the name given to an unfurred joey that lives in its mother’s pouch until it matures and is ready to face the world.

Anna Bay Sooty with poking joey paw
From koalawrangler’s gallery.

Sooty gradually got more used to being in hospital care, submitting to special eye ointments and medication that the hospital staff were using to treat Sooty’s eye complaint. Sometimes one way of treating conjunctivitis in koalas is to operate to remove the third eyelid. There is a special risk attached to this when the koala is carrying a pinkie since the anaesthetic used in the operation may cause the mother to reject the baby. If Sooty rejected her pinkie from the pouch, there is a chance it could die. The hospital is lucky enough to have a humidicrib which can be used to keep pinkies warm in the event of this, but this is no substitute for its own mother’s pouch. And I have it on good authority (Cheyne)that koala pinkies are very difficult to hand-raise.

Luckily, the pinkie remained where it was. Soon, hospital staff were delighted to see the size of Sooty’s pouch increasing and even some movement beneath her fur. Today, we were lucky enough to see a miniature koala hand poking out!

Anna Bay Sooty's joey
From broken_puzzle's gallery.
Over the last few weeks, visitors and vollies alike have been treated to the incomparable joy of seeing the now furred joey’s little face protruding from its mother’s pouch blinking up at the delighted, smiling human faces. It’s a joy having see this young one graduate from hidden pinkie to visible joey in such a seemingly short time. (The joey looks like it's wearing a fur-lined anorak in this photo, like Kenny from South Park!)


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

Diary of a koala-feeding platform

The koala in the bag weighs a tonne, but I hold him out before me like the precious cargo he is. I have a momentary fantasy about being a swagman with a purloined jumbuck in my tucker bag.

O'Briens Fiona
From koalawrangler's gallery.

It's regular koalawrangling duties today, not teamleader training, so I start at 8am with the usual Friday crowd. Barb's friend Colleen is here and we are teamed together in yard 9. I'm glad about this since I'll get to see what antics our Fiona gets up to today.

I hear that Innes Wonga slated for release so his arthritic leg must have healed. There's a flurry of activity as vollies grab their respective feeding pots and head out to their assigned yards. Lucky Wiruna's and Birthday Girl's pot food is mixed up, but not O'Briens Fiona's or Bonny Fire's. Barb tells us that the latter two are still up trees. I tell her about yesterday's shenanigans with Fiona; I have a hunch she'll be down in no time once she sees the others being fed. Using my newfound formula-mixing skills, I quickly whip up her double dose (they're trying to fatten her up since she was underweight when re-admitted). I also grab a towel on the way through ICU; I'm determined not to be a koala's pin-cushion today.

In the yard, we locate Wiruna Lucky and Birthday Girl without too much trouble. Birthday Girl isn't on her usual gunyah, but she's much bigger than either Fiona or Bonny so I'm sure it's her. Lucky is distinguished by a splotchy pink nose, so is easy to spot. Colleen takes Lucky, donning some yellow washing-up gloves before she starts. She's obviously taken one look at those koala talons and doesn't want to risk a scratching. I take Birthday Girl, who eats gratefully.

O'Briens Fiona
From koalawrangler's gallery.

With a few syringe-fuls to go, I spot some fuzzy movement out of the corner of my eye. It's Fiona descending her tree as if by clockwork. In no time, she's bounding over to where I stand feeding Birthday Girl. Obviously, I can't crouch (to discourage Fiona from climbing me) and feed Birthday Girl at the same time. O'Briens Fiona is insistent; she wants her breakfast, and she plans on being irritating until she gets it. I give in to Fiona's urgency and ask Colleen if she'll finish feeding Birthday Girl after Lucky.

Grabbing Fiona's pot and a towel, I walk over where there's some raised astroturf under a gunyah, thinking it will be more comfortable than the crouched position I assumed yesterday. I sit down and cover my arm with a towel, expecting Fiona to sit beside me like any normal koala. But, no. My body is no impediment to Fiona's hunger and her wiley ways. She walks straight onto my lap like I'm a horizontal tree with some tasty swamp mahogany leaf in my fingers. I quickly stick the syringe in her mouth and she starts sucking away. Her claws are resting on my chest and I'm grateful for my smock as an added layer of protection. I may have avoided becoming a koala pin-cushion today, but I'm certainly a koala-feeding platform.

Fiona's sitting on my lap and I'm thankful the towel's under her in case she decides to pee. She's so light, she feels no heavier than my cat. I hold no illusions about this being an intimate moment between us. Her brown eyes are glassy and I know I'm nothing more than a tree trunk with with food on offer to her. I have to pause to refill the syringe and Fiona reaches for frantically for it, brooking no delay. I also feel that this is somehow wrong; I should be avoiding human contact with her as she's a wild animal. I generally don't touch the koalas at all, even to pat them on the back, since I'm aware that what might feel inexpressibly soft to us can be a form of invasion to them. But the feed is under way and I resolve to finish it before extricating myself.

Once the pot is dry, I lean to the side and Fiona slips off neatly onto the dirt. She shimmies up the nearest tree and assumes the position for the rest of the day...until the afternoon feed, that is. Bonny Fire shows no sign of coming down so we set about the yard duties. There's two recycle pots, which we replenish with the best of yesterday's leaf and place next to Lucky and Birthday Girl so that they have shelter while they sleep.

Ocean Kim
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Kimmy and Linksy in yard 9A are down from their trees and snuffling about in yesterday's Nichollii, their favourite leaf. We rake their yard, but leave the leaf until the fresh stuff arrives. There's little to do until the leaf-collector cometh, so we head to the day-room for a cuppa.

Jo emerges with a bag and asks if I'll bag Sandfly Jye. My teamleader/handling training continues. Jye is seated on a high fork in his gunyah and I'm wishing I were a foot taller as I fling the bag over his head. He resists, predictably. This time I've got a hold of his forearms as I've seen the other handlers do. I tell this to Jo and she instructs "well, pull him off". Jo's standing back letting me do it all; there's no point it wimping out and letting the more experienced one help. It's a bit like pulling staples out with your fingers; he's stuck to the wood like glue. Somehow or other I manage to get him off and enclosed in the bag. During the whole process, I'm murmuring a litany of soothing words, trying to stave off the koala's fear. It's funny how you do some things automatically. I hand the koala bagful over to Jo. I asked jokingly if she thought the verbal encouragement helped. "Well, it helped you anyway", she says.

I return to the day-room, triumphant. Soon enough, Jo reemerges from the treatment room toting a heavy bag. They've finished with Jye; can I return him? He weighs a tonne, but I hold him out before me like the precious cargo he is. I have a momentary fantasy about being a swagman with a purloined jumbuck in my tucker bag. I gently lower Jye to the ground of his unit and open the mouth of the bag to let him find his way back. He ambles out, slightly disoriented, and seeks out his gunyah for comfort.

When the leaf does arrive, there is a strange leaf I haven't seen before. The bark is papery and black, and the branches zigzag at crazy angles. It sports fluffy yellow flowers like bottlebrush and has the most intense lemony-camphor smell of any eucalypt I've come across. Danae views it suspiciously, but Barb assures us that the koalas love to eat the flowers. It's a melaleuca, which gives me bittersweet memories of poor Melaleuca Alfie.


Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.
The joeys in yard 9A, bound down from their tree and tuck into their leaf. Barb comes out to check on Links VTR. She has a word to me about O'Briens Fiona. Next time she does the crawling act I should just pick her up and plonk her on a gunyah to feed; we don't want koalas trying to crawl over people in the street looking for formula once they're released... Now that I'm more adept at handling them, it's probably something I could feel comfortable doing. Ask me to pick up a koala last week and it would have been a different story.

Barb makes off with Links VTR in her arms in order to weigh him. He's perched over her shoulder looking at at the world just like my cat does. When he returns, we learn that he's just under 3.5kg. They won't release him until he gets more comfortable with climbing. Barb explains that Links just doesn't display the usual koala desire of wanting to be high up in a tree. He would prefer to be down low where there's the eucalyptus version of a Sizzler salad bar. He's even developing a bit of a paunch.

Barb & Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.

As Barb returns him to the tree, she places her hand under his bottom and tells him in a mock-berating tone to climb up the tree, not down. Linksy reaches out his bent little nose and sniffs her. I know it's not an affectionate gesture, but it really looks like one from our human vantage point.

With the leaf pots all replenished, I rake up the excess and dump it at the leaf skip. Jo is passing by on her way to yard 10 with another empty bag, this one destined for Oxley Jo. Do I want to bag her? I'll just have to give up on Oxley Jo wanting to be my best friend. She's a little easier than Jye to bag since she's so small, like a big joey. Jo stands in front of her to distract her while I sneak up on her behind with a bag. I pop it over her head and she starts to eep wildly in protest. I feel for her wrists again and try to wrench them as gently as possible from the gunyah. I recall that if you pull them slightly apart, the koala has to let go. She sort of drops into the bag at this point, and I let the bag ease to the ground. Her bottom is wriggling out the mouth of the bag and I scramble to close it around her.

Jo says I've done a good job. The main thing is not to drop the koala! Check! I think I'd probably throw myself under a falling koala before I'd let that happen. She also says that you can have all the koala-bagging experience in the world, but a bagging can still go wrong. I should take heart at this.

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.

Lurking

It's funny how much of an outsider I feel, standing on the other side of the wire wearing clean clothes and without my koala smock and customary haze Aeroguard.

Ross retrieving Warrego Martin
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Today I'm volunteering at Roto House, a restored 19th century homestead on the same grounds as the koala hospital. I can't resist popping in to the koala hospital to see how the koalas are. I'm immediately bowled over by the The heady eucalyptus odour that hits me as soon as I get out of the car. It's humid today. I already feel inadequately dressed and out of place with my non-koalawrangling clothes on.

I see Peter and Geoff in yard 3 replacing a gunyah (not the koalas Macquarie Peter and Condon Geoff, but the human, wrangler variety). Apparently it was infested with ants. O'Briens Fiona has been temporarily shifted to yard 1 while they install the new beam. I ask Peter what else is new. They managed to recapture Bellevue Bill who was AWOL up a tree in yard 10. He's now in ICU again. I also ask whether Fiona has been behaving herself. The answer is "no": they found her next door in Innes Wonga's yard that morning! She's a wiley critter! Fiona is fine, but Wonga needs a Bex and a lie-down.

I walk over to yard 10. Ross is there. He says it's his last day (again) as he's starting a job. He'll miss the koalas. I'm chatting to him over Warrego Martin's yard, but there's no sign of the koala. Ross points upward. Martin has crawled up the umbrella and is sitting in the spokes like it's an elaborate tree-fork. Ross gently removes the umbrella from its slot and tilts it to the ground. Martin clings on regardless then finally crawls free.

It's funny how much of an outsider I feel, standing on the other side of the wire wearing clean clothes and without my koala smock and customary haze of Aeroguard. I peer down towards yard 9 and see a koala roaming around on the ground. I wander down for a closer look. It's Wiruna Lucky again. She's wandering around the graves of Perch Miracle and Cloud that occupy a corner of the yard. The gothic romantic in me wonders if she's paying some sort of ritual tribute. Emma's suggestion is that she's lonely now that the Old Girls' network has diminished. Ocean Therese, a long-term inhabitant of yard 9 only recently moved to yard 10a. Of course, it can't be that: koalas are lone creatures, but it's hard not to imprint their behaviour with our own values.


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

Innes Wonga

Kempsey is perched out in the middle of her gunyah looking rather exposed without any leaf around her. The recycled pot is down one end and she's sitting in the middle of the beam like a fuzzy, squat tightrope walker.

Innes Wonga
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Peter asked me to come in today, Sunday. I haven't worked Sunday mornings before and I find it has a different vibe to other days. Since I've become a 'regular' (one of the koalarati, perhaps?), I find myself getting things done in record time (assuming I don't have ticks to mark up, which involves lots of doubletracking to and from the dayroom).

Cheryle, who I met at koala rescue training, is allocated to yard 9; Emma whose koala pics I discovered on Flickr is working in the ICU.

There's a guy called Ian doing Kempsey Carolina and the joeys. I've got Innes Wonga and Henry (who's way up his tree). I haven't fed Wonga before, he's the fellow with the arthritic left knee. Anne identifies with Wonga's ailment; she's got an arthritic left knee too.

Wonga must be enjoying her food because they're is a TONNE of poop around her gunyah. I recall Ros having trouble feeding him the other day, but today he drinks it all up like a good little bear. I rake and scoop poop in Wonga's and Henry's yards and make up a new recycled pot from their previous day's leaf. I check in to see how joeys are faring -- they're up in the tree but on adjacent branches so perhaps they've made up after their spat on Friday.

Macquarie Peter From koalawrangler's gallery.

Macquarie Peter From koalawrangler's gallery.

I suggest to Peter that I might go and help Jim in yard 10; it's got six koalas now which is too much for one person. Jim welcomes the help. He says when he arrived the koalas seemed sleepy, like they'd had a big night. I notice they've all got big outdoor umbrellas over their gunyahs to give them additional shelter. They koalas all look damp as it rained heavily in the night and the umbrellas aren't waterproof. They all appear to have woken up now, except Links Lorna who's burrowed into her leaf. Warrego Martin and Macquarie Peter are quite frisky, jumping off their gunyahs and prowling around the perimeters of their yards.

Chris arrives with the leaf so I go to prepare Wonga and Henry's bundles. There's always a rush for the good cutters -- I prefer the smaller ones with the orange handles as they're easier to wield. I'm becoming a dab hand at leaf cutting now.

Once I've finished with Wonga and Henry I notice that Poor Kempsey is perched out in the middle of her gunyah looking rather exposed without any leaf around her. The recycled pot is down one end and she's sitting in the middle of the beam like a fuzzy, squat tightrope walker. I generally try to leave the pot closest to the koala intact so as to disrupt them as little as possible. So, I decide to replenish Kempsey's leaf and then go back to yard 10 to help Jim. I fix Therese's leaf and then head into ICU. There are three types of leaf today; Chris is going back to get a fourth. The koalas need a bit of choice as this is the usual way they feed -- seeking out different types of desirable leaf.

Innes Tony
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Chris's second leaf trip is delayed when Chris and Ellen are dispatched on a rescue go out on rescue. When they return, they've brought a big male in a bag. He was found at the corner of Major Innes and Ruins Way. They call him Innes Tony. He barks.

I talk to Barb who's in the treatment room. Her little Steffi has now developed massive bruising on her entire front, no doubt from her fall. Judy tells me about her little joey, Cathie John, who has wet bottom, which is rare in joeys. The vet says he might have contracted it from the mother's pap, which is unusual.

We talk about koala intelligence and agree that they are intelligent about the things they need to be. Unfortunately, koalas don't see dogs as a threat. That must be why they accept us humans around them. It takes a lot for them to lash out.

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

Joeyfest: Links VTR & Ocean Kim

I murmur my little cajoling words -- "possum", "sausage", "precious pie" -- to persuade Links VTR that I'm not trying to blast him off the gunyah with a hose.

Ocean Kim & Barb
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Back on the Friday shift, I walk into the day-room and greet Peter. Barb strolls in casually, a joey clinging to her shoulder like a human baby. It's Ocean Kim who's been having tick trouble lately and has been doing a shift in ICU. You can tell Barb has mothered a few joeys -- the way she walks about the room with Kim cradled comfortably in her arms testifies to years of koala-whispering. She's one of the handlers who does joey home-care. A dirty job but someone's got to do it.

Barb is gently berating Kim for naughtily trying to climb up onto her roof. There's been some changes. Burraneer Henry has moved in with the other joey, Links VTR, in yard 4. Earlier, Ocean Kim had been transferred from ICU to Burraneer Henry's old spot, yard 1A, the joey showcase; but Barb has just found her scaling the tarp and there are fears she might try to escape. She's (supposedly) one of the wild joeys and is used to hanging out in the high trees, regally surveying her audience whenever one gathers beneath her.

Barb sits at the dayroom table and feeds Kim with a syringe. She jokes to Cheyne that she should really be paddling Kim's bottom for being such a naughty koala, but instead she's apparently rewarding such behaviour with a feed of formula. (By the way, I'm certain Barb would no sooner paddle a joey's bottom than cut her own arm off.)

I decide that I could stand by and gush at little Kim all day, but I really should begin my duties. I'm assigned all the joeys today. No feeding unfortunately, but I still get to see them at close-range. Anne says, "so, you've got all the orphans today?". Links is now sharing with Henry, who is barely visible at the top of the yard's gum tree. Barb has already replaced Links' recycled leaf with a bunch of Nicholli -- she knows their favourite leaf, just a like a mother would.

I haven't really done a yard before on my own, other than the joeys. I'm usually in the aviaries or ICU. I rake around the perimeter and refresh Links' water bowl. Barb emerges still cuddling little Ocean Kim. She's decided that Kim, Links and Henry can share this yard for the time being. Links is munching on the new nichollii leaf as Barb deposits Kim onto the gunyah. Links reaches his paw out and touches Kim as she climbs aboard. They then move together and kiss noses as we stand around gushing at this precious display. They start to share the leaf until Kim wanders off to the end of the gunyah that connects with the yard's tree. Then she's gone -- bounding up to the highest branches. The tree is forked at the top -- Henry is ensconced on the right fork and Kim on the other.

Ocean Kim joins Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Anne is making ready the yard nextdoor for O'Briens Fiona, otherwise known as Fiona Houdini, the wiley escape artist. She's moving Wonga Innes to the yard closest to the exit -- they didn't want to put Fiona there since naturally she will be looking for any way to escape outside the yards. This way, if she does get out, it will be into another yard. Anne tells me a little about Links VTR's background. He used to be in yard 6 with the other joeys, but he fell from a tree during a storm and hurt his nose. Links' nose is disfigured after his tree-freefall. Apparently Cheyne used to have to mop his little schnoz every day. It now sports an indentation since it's partly hollow. Links VTR isn't interested in climbing since his accident. It was hoped that the other joey might set a good example for Linksy, but he remains on the gunyah, even climbing down to just above the ground where he can keep a better eye on me.

Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I do recall Links being much friskier when Anna was here though. I was servicing Kempsey Carolina's yard next door and kept seeing Links darting up the beam that connects his gunyah to the tree. He'd scramble up the beam and then onto the tree only to shimmy down to the ground again. The handlers put soft bags at the bottom of the tree to break his fall should he take another tumble. I remember watching him scale his way to the ground only to sit there for a while, as though he wasn't sure what to do next.

Leaf bundles
From koalawrangler's gallery.

The leaf man is still sorting the leaf so I check with Anne if it's okay to start on the joeys (since one of the koala kommandments is to finish one yard before proceeding to the next). There is a huge kookaburra in the yard; I've seen them before in yard 6, so there must be something there they like to eat (hopefully not koala). There are no joeys to be seen -- they must be up high. They have four pots of leaf for the three of them. I do a good rake around their yard -- you're not supposed to do more than a rake's-width perimeter, but there is koala poop everywhere so I reckon a more thorough sweep can't hurt just this once. I empty the dried leaf and poop in a bucket and look in on Ellenborough Nancy (the extra-wild koala from yesterday who swiped at me). She looks so sad with her weepy left eye. She's much quieter today though, perhaps the towels Peter hung up yesterday have calmed her.

I start preparing the joeys' leaf -- like growing children, they make short work of their leaf each day, and leave their leftovers in a messy state. The branches are all broken and bent like they've been trampled. I separate their new bundle into three and refill the recycled pot with leaf from yesterday. Links must be famished because he leans towards me as I bring the new leaf in. He gets stuck into it straight away, which makes it a little hard to hose the leaf down without wetting him as well. Apparently, koalas don't like getting wet very much. I murmur my little cajoling words -- "possum", "sausage", "precious pie" -- to persuade Links that I'm not trying to blast him off the gunyah with a hose. Barb has also put aside a special branch of Nicholli for Links, Henry and Kim. Their pots are almost bursting so I share a bit of their leaf with the other joeys.

With all the orphans attended to, I check with Barb what needs doing next. I had seen Jo leaving the aviaries with a bagged koala earlier and I have half a mind to suggest that I work on the aviaries, especially if one is in the treatment room; it's far easier to clean a koala's aviary when they're not in residence. It's so crowded in there with human/leaf/koala all competing for space. But I don't, since I prefer working in ICU anyway and Barb says I can continue in there. There are a bunch of new koalas -- Belleview Bill and Ocean Roy. The vets had to treat Condon Geoff, the climber from yesterday, but they left him in the transporting box while his unit is being cleaned by Judy -- he's too much of a flight risk!

I start on Warrego Martin's unit, where I can see my own handiwork from yesterday. He's docile and welcoming as ever. I go off to prepare his leaf first so that I can make a presto-chango swap when it comes time to do the towels. My plan works like a charm again -- remove leaf at end without koala and replace towel there; replenish that end with new leaf to coax koala away from dirty towel end and so focus on that end. All the while, Martin is still peeing and pooping so it's a good thing that I leave the clearing of the newpaper until last. There is a tonne of poop in his unit so he's obviously eating a lot; I can hear him chomping on his leaf. It's a such a satisfying sound hearing an animal 'happy' (if that's not projecting too much). Well, helping to meet its basic needs anyway.

After Martin, I start to empty the old leaf into the leaf skip. As you can imagine, there is a lot of leaf to be disposed of in a given day. Every day. Old leaf is first chucked on the ground (as you are working to complete a yard), then it is turfed into a green wheelie bin with the front cut out of it. This is then wheeled to the leaf skip and said leaf hurled into it. The leaf gatherer empties the skip after his leaf collection each morning. Sometimes this means there are two wheelie-bins full of leaf sitting where the skip used to be as well as piles and piles of loose leaf lying where they've been chucked (in the absence of the skip).

Today, the skip's newly emptied and I'm hurling bundles of old leaf into the top of it and thinking how much I used to hate gardening as a kid. Ivy day was the worst. The house I grew up in was literally choked in heavy ivy; the kind with white leaves with green splotches. It grew on the patio railings that surrounded the entire house. Once a year or so, Dad would crank up the chainsaw and hack the ivy back to the bare roots and we kids were enlisted as labour. This consisted of emptying the patio of its towering piles of leaf and branches and depositing the piles into green garbage bags. I remember telling my brother one year that I had a cold so I couldn't bend over to pick up the leaf since it would make my nose run. I've been thinking obout that ivy-clearing today and how much that felt like hollow work; whereas, schlepping the old koala leaf is something I approach with vigour. I find myself returning to this theme often: some activity that I usually dislike is transformed into earthy, soulful work when it is being done for the good of the koalas. Either that or I've just grown up a bit.

I start to help Barb hang out the towels that have just come out of the washing machine, but she orders me inside to have a cup of tea. There may be koalas to attend to but the tea-break is sacrosanct. Carol, who looks after fundraising is laying out mugs as Barb cuts up a custard-filled tea cake. I tell her I may be able to get a mobile phone donated to us that I thought we could auction off at the upcoming open-day in April. She's thrilled by the idea. Cheyne is also going to collect poop in a jar and count the number of "nuggets" (Geoff's term). People can then pay to guess how many bits of koala poop are in the poop jar.

Jo starts to talk about some of the patients. That little lamb Oxley Jo isn't eating her leaf. No! I don't know what that will mean. I ask Jo about her research work. She is doing research on koala disease. I want to ask her if they use the same drugs to treat koala Chlamydia as is used on humans, but the conversation turns to Cloud and the article that appeared on her in the Port Macquarie News on Wednesday. Jules is in and he tells us that Cloud also has an obituary in today's paper.

I go out to check on how O'Briens Fiona is settling in. She's not on her gunyah or anywhere else to be seen. Finally I see her in the corner of her yard. She's snuffling about on the ground, then stands on her hind legs against the fence. She's probably trying to work out how to escape. Fiona Houdini, the master, in action.

O'Briens Fiona plotting her escape
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Anne asks me to clear up Bonny Jude's yard. He's been released today so the yard needs to be fully emptied of leaf etc. I scrub the pots and turn them upside down in their holders to indicate the yard is ready for re-use. I notice Judy carrying a bagged koala towards the aviaries. I tell her I'll help by opening the cage door. It's eepy Links Lorna. Both her wrists are bandaged where they've taken blood. Fortunately, there are canulas in to make drawing the blood they need for analysis less traumatic. It's part of the research to gauge how much of the drug is making it into their bloodstreams. I remember Warrego Martin's wrists were like that when I first met him.

I stop at Oxley Jo's aviary and tell her I want her to start eating her leaf. Perhaps we're just not giving her the variety she likes? Koalas definitely have their favourite kinds; I notice that when I'm discarding the already-munched on leaf taht it is usually the same kind. They leave the other varieties that they're less keen on. Oxley Jo looks at me intently like she half expects me to throw her in a bag. Like I'd do that :)

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