Showing posts with label Kempsey Carolina. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kempsey Carolina. Show all posts

Saturday, 10 April 2010

Fluffy earmuffs and Kempsey Carolina's doppelgänger

I spent a bit of time with Oxley Carl last Sunday. He’s been moved to an outside yard after a week or so in ICU. He's old and debilitated and his ears reflect this. Healthy koalas usually have big, round, perky ears. Poor Carl’s ears drooped so flat against his head, he looked a bit like he was wearing fluffy earmuffs.


When koalas are placed in the outside yards, they automatically look a lot happier. Perhaps it’s the way that the sunlight dapples their fur. I wonder if koalas also absorb vitamin D from the sun, which helps ward off depression in humans? In any case, he was a lot more receptive to taking his nutritional supplement, eagerly grabbing at my hand. He managed to unburden of me of the syringe at one point. It must be a Carl thing. The last koala to do that was Nowendoc Carl, another syringe-grabber. It’s amazing how dexterous a koala’s hand is, even with all those claws. Like a stenographer who can still manage to type 80 words per minute despite having inch-long fingernails. I suppose on koalas they are made to select their preferred leaf with surgical accuracy.


He drank every drop of his formula and then proceeded to lick the pot and then moved on to lapping the water from his leaf pot! It’s behaviour they noticed when he was in ICU and have been monitoring. According to the Hospital Supervisor, the fact that Carl is also piddling a lot can mean that his kidneys are failing :( Although, on a positive note, his blood tests have not shown renal failure yet. Koalas often do not show poor blood results till they are really crook, so here's hoping.



I dropped into the Koala Hospital again during the week to look in at the progress in a few of the furry patients.

Hamlyn Daniel, the koala rescued from my street, looks like a new man! Before Easter, his nose was in poor shape. His left nostril was split through to his mouth and hung in an ungainly fashion. It meant that you could really hear him chewing in an amplified way when he ate.

They wanted to wait until his schnoz dried out a bit before surgery. When I saw him a few days ago, Daniel looked a million dollars, as you can see from these before/after pictures. Before too long he should be transferred to an outside yard to continue his rehabilitation. Then, I should expect to see him nibbling eucalyptus in a tree very near our place in the near future.

On that note, I recently noticed that the leaves on a beautiful big gum tree in our street have turned brown. It might be autumn, but as eucalyptus trees are not deciduous, ALL eucalypts are evergreen, so any eucalypt that loses its leaves is one sick tree It could be because it is not getting any water or the opposite – it’s in super soggy ground and the roots are drowning.

So I knew the tree was probably dying, I was just not sure why. I spoke to Milicia, the Hospital’s ecological consultant, about the possibility of its getting examined by a tree doctor. After investigating, it turned out that the tree had been hit by lightning – not once but twice! It was well and truly dead. It’s going to be removed by the council, but the Hospital will arrange to plant a sapling in its place.

Emerald Downs Barbara has already been moved to an outside recovery yard. Appropriately, it’s yard 5, which was occupied for some years by long-time resident, Kempsey Carolina. Kempsey was also blind but had her right eye removed, not her left - so Barbara could be Kempsey's mirror image! I’m not sure yet of Barbara’s recovery status: whether she’ll become the ‘new’ Kempsey, as it were, or whether the eyesight in her right eye will improve enough for her to be released. Certainly, yard 5 must have had some good Feng Shui because Kempsey spent some long, happy years there.

I'm also delighted to report that the whimsically named Waterlily Sweetpea has been released!


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

Wednesday, 9 January 2008

Ocean Joseph and Hamlyn Bev

Well, today had the makings of a regular Thursday, after the yuletide madness of Christmas and Boxing Day.

I got assigned Kempsey Carolina and Ocean Joseph today. Both get a feed so I headed off to visit my friend Kempsey, who quickly drew a crowd as she slurped up her formula.

The leaf was already cut and laid out so I made short shrift of her yard, decking it out with plenty of Swamp Mahogany and Tallowwood.

I've only once before cleaned Ocean Joseph's yard before and he wasn't terribly interested in my feeding him. He's lying lengthwise on the gunyah, taking the pressure off the nasty bottom wounds he incurred in his second car accident in the space of months. Joyce looked after him in home care for a little while before he took up residence in the recently refurbished yard 8 (Perks Chris's former yard).

Ocean Joseph
Ocean Joseph
From koalawrangler's gallery.

He's one of those koalas that doesn't seek out the food pot--unlike Kempsey who licks at the air between mouthfuls. Joseph just lays there placidly while I gently squeeze the syringe between his lips. When he gets a taste of the formula, he decides he quite likes it, but he doesn't offer too much encouragement. He had big brown eyes and a calm expression common to the big males.

Joy, the hospital supervisor on today's shift, pops in to smear cream on his behind -- it can't be comfortable to sit on. His gunyah is covered in towels to soften his seat and to absorb any leakage from the wound.

Joseph nibbles at a bit of the new leaf before deciding it's all too much and decides to settle down for a snooze.

In the joey yard next door, Settlers Inn Casey is awake and having a bit of a scratch. According to the day-room whiteboard, she's been given a squirt of tick repellent of the exactly the same variety we give our dog. Because she seldom comes down, we don't get an opportunity to check her over for ticks, and it's the young koalas that can get anaemic if they get too many on them.

Casey is a wild child. She was an abandoned joey that had been fending for herself fairly well out in the bush, but was brought in to the hospital when she was sighted. We usually like to have joeys' weight up around 3.5kg before they are released, so she's staying with us to grow and fatten up. I remember when she first came in; she was like a child raised by wolves -- so small and cute-looking, yet pulling away and scratching like a banshee. "I'm big and tough, and can take care of myself!", she seemed to be saying.

Right now, she's looking down on me like I'm a small grub of no consequence. Speaking of grubs, just then three or four kookaburras camped out across several trees start howling at once. One has a large lizard in its mouth and the others aren't happy about it. It's so loud we can barely speak over the din. Tricia in yard 9 starts mock-laughing out loud, joining in.

Everyone's finishing up their yards when we get a call from Hazel, who runs the hospital kiosk. There's a suspected wet bottom koala in the tree outside her house. She needs some vollies to come over with rescue poles to get the koala down.

She lives in a leafy, meandering part of Port Macquarie. There are numerous koala crossing signs and all the streets we pass conjure up names of previous koala patients that hail from this area: Nulla Sam, Hamlyn Jack, Chisholm Dave, Cattlebrook John...

There are a host of folk waiting our arrival out in the street. Amanda and I get to work erecting our poles, while Hazel and another chap get the bags at the ready. The koala is a small one with a tag in her right ear, so we know she's a female and a former hospital patient. Amanda and I move in with our poles; it's a bit like we're jointly wielding a pair of giant chopsticks to pluck out a dumpling. Except that we don't ever touch her with the poles; the cloth hanging from them is used to entice her down the tree. She's currently sleeping so we have to wave a cloth in her face to wake her. It's a dream rescue -- she makes her way down the tree with our guidance and straight into the bag.

I hold her in the bag on my lap as we head back to the hospital. She hardly weighs anything at all.

Back at the hospital, Joy herself has gone out on a rescue so Amanda and I do our best to fill in the new koala's admission paperwork. I check her ear -- 967, no wait, 496...I was reading it upside down. D'oh. It's hard to wiggle the tag around on the ear of a live wild animal in a bag. Really it is.

We look her up in the book: it's Hamlyn Bev, an abandoned joey who was admitted to the hospital in May 2006 weighing only 1kg. She was home-cared then transferred to the hospital to grow before she was released in September last year.

I weigh the bag on the scales: 5.7kg, but after subtracting the weight of the bag, that makes her only 4.8kg, not big. Amanda finds a green form and we start completing it with details about her observable symptoms in preparation from Joy to examine her on her return. Amanda mixes up some hydrating liquid and we attempt to feed her. She's also got a few ticks on her that we remove.

Hamlyn Bev
Hamlyn Bev
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Hamlyn Bev
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Just then, Joy gets back with another koala she's rescued, not a previous admission, but with a very advanced wet bottom. We call her Bangalay Millie. She's going off to the vets for an ultrasound this afternoon which will tell us what's what.

Joy has a look at Bev and we all agree that Amanda and I should give up any fantasy we had to become vets. We'd both thought her tongue was a little yellow; Joy said it was quite normal. However, her right eye was slighly cloudy. Joy also notes that she's got a swollen gland under her arm and a very distended belly, the kind you see in malnourished children, which is clearly giving her some discomfort. Her fur condition iss good but her musculature was slack and she felt scrawny to touch. We watch her walk around the treatment room to see how she carries herself. She doesn't appear to have any mobility issues, other than being quite lethargic.

Poor little sausage! She's off to the vet for an ultrasound too. Fingers crossed.

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

Thursday, 21 June 2007

No Clover allowed on Golfer's turf

It's a case of marsupial West Side Story except instead of the Jets and the Sharks, it's the Koalas and...well...the Koalas.
Brrr! It's a chilly old morning here in Koalaville. All the koalawranglers arrived rugged up in long trousers, fleecy tops and scarves. Even Cheyne has forgone her customary shorts for more winter-friendly attire. It's times like these you've got to envy those among us with built-in fur coats.

I see that the koala money boxes are still stacked on the dayroom table so busy myself with scattering them around the yards. On my way through yard 9, Bonny is up her usual tree while Birthday Girl looks at me beseechingly for her tucker. Wiruna Lucky hasn't been playing nicely with the other girls, so they've given her a yard to herself--9a, the former joey lovenest. She's perched up in the tree and illuminated by yellow morning light. She looks enormous in the yard that has been joey territory for so long. Ocean Kim has recently joined Lake Christmas in the traditional joey yard (yard 6).

Wiruna Lucky
Wiruna Lucky
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Amanda is still reading leaf in yard 5. She returns to the dayroom after her rounds and begins allocating yards. Kerstin's up in yard 10 where only Candelo Cool and Tractive Golfer reside; Brooke's in yard 9, Paul's in yards 5 and 6 and I'm in 3 and 4. Jarrod is helping Geoff with some maintenance work in ICU. The walls in ICU have all received a fresh lick of paint. The bright eggshell blue is quite a change after the previously dour grey.

Jackie is tending to her two charges in ICU: Sandhill Col, a koala brought in with Chlamydia in both eyes. When he turns from yesterday's leaf, he peers out at me through eyes that are angry red. He's slated for surgery tomorrow, so we'll see how he fares. Another inmate is Cattlebrook John. I remember his name. He was brought in back in February with symptoms of lethargy. I remember Barb conjecturing at the time that he might have been hit by a car. He spent a few days in ICU and things didn't look too hopeful. Then, miraculously, he seemed to perk up and was released. It's thought that a motor vehicle accident is to blame for his admission this time as well. He appears to be concussed, but he also has an infection which we're waiting on bloods to confirm.

I've got Anna Bay Sooty and Livingstone Clover to look after out in the yards. Neither gets any formula, so it's straight onto poop and leaf detail. I start on Clover who's currently up the tree in yard 4. I attended the hospital's 3pm walk-and-talk on Sunday, so was able to catch up on a little bit of history about Clover from Barb.

Clover was brought in suffering from a gammy knee and after his initial stint in ICU was moved to the circular yard in yard 10. You'd think that and old man like Tractive Golfer who suffers from a few mobility problems himself would be sympathetic to the likes of poor old Clover. But no. Golfer has the run of the place in yard 10 and is generally not too bothered when other koalas are assigned to the smaller yards adjacent to his. He also tends to ignore it when koalas are placed in the circular yard within yard 10. That is, as long as they are FEMALE koalas. Golfer was none too pleased about the presence of Clover. Males koalas can be quite bullish about their home range and like to be king of their little stretch of "jungle".

Golfer even decided he wanted to explain the home-range rules to Clover in person: one morning the handlers found Golfer IN Clover's yard. Despite suffering from rather pronounced spinal curvature (thanks to his scoliosis), Golfer managed to scale the metal fence into Clover's yard and was giving him a bit of a hard time about being the new kid on the block in Golfer's turf. It's a case of marsupial West Side Story except instead of the Jets and the Sharks, it's the Koalas and...well...the Koalas.

The powers that be decided the best for Clover's recuperation would be to get him off Golfer's radar. Despite shipping Clover out, Golfer still broke his way into Clover's old yard this morning. Amanda found him in there wandering about, no doubt ensuring there were no more interlopers.

So Clover's yard's an easy one to clean, with Clover sleeping peacefully on high. Amanda asks me to look after Kempsey too. She's pacing up and down her gunyah wanting her formula, so I duck into the dayroom to get her food. Feeding her draws a crowd of interested visitors. I lure her down the visitor-friendly end with the smell of formula. She laps it up in her methodically dribbly way.

Kempsey Carolina
Kempsey Carolina
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I carry on and prepare her leaf. Kempsey's hungry today. I put her full pots in place and Kempsey weaves in and out of the branches looking for the choicest leaf. She starts backing her way down the gunyah until it looks like she's going to slip of the end. I put my cupped hands gently around her white bottom just as she taks a step too far... She works it out though and changes out of reverse gear. For a blind koala, she's pretty savvy.

Anna Bay Sooty
Anna Bay Sooty
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Kerstin's finished in yard 10 and comes in to see if she can help out. I've cleaned Clover's yard; all the remains is to replenish his fresh leaf which she's happy to do. I continue on with Anna Bay Sooty who's been asleep all morning. I notice a large brown patch on her hind quarters. I wonder if it's a bit of joey poking out of her pouch? I catch Cheyne in the yard and she suggests it could be "her pap coming through". Pap is a type of koala poo that the mother produces for the baby koala to eat, much like colostrum in humans. It contains all the right ingredients for preparing the joey's gut for its impending eucalyptus diet.

We go into Sooty's yard to inspect more closely, but it turns out to be nothing more than a brown patch of fur that I hadn't noticed before. Cheyne says it's characteristic of darker-furred koalas to have such patches. They also tend to have brown claws; they go hand in hand, a bit like brown hair/brown eyes in humans.

Well, it may not have been a sign of the forthcoming joey, but Sooty's pouch has certainly grown hefty in the last few weeks. As I move her leaf pots around and she moves to accommodate them, I can see the hanging roundness of her belly. It's a shame, but we won't get to see Sooty's little one. Sooty's ready to be released in the next week or two, and that's not to be delayed by a certain koalawrangler's desire to see a freshly hatched joey in the flesh.

There are some serious mating-style noises emanating from ICU. The maintenance team are in there tinkering down the sink end of the corridor. Every once in a while Cattlebrook John lets loose with their unique growling sound, a koala-style foghorn.

In the dayroom, I flick through the daybook and see there's been a few comings and goings. Emerald Oz was briefly admitted and then released, having been reported on a fence with barking bull terriers. Hassall Coal was also on a fence, this time in a yard with two Staffordshire terriors. She was relocated to a safer area. There was also Airport Keena, a juvenile found up in the rafters of a freight hanger at the airport who was also relocated.

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

Friday, 11 May 2007

Fingers crossed for Oxley Jo

Kimmy, like Lake Christmas, is a treetop-dweller who only honours us with a visit to earth when she's feeling peckish. She's looking her usual fetching fluffy self. Emma notices a tick under her chin and plucks it off. Kimmy grizzles a bit, much like a recalcitrant child having its hair combed.
"Guess who I saw yesterday?", is the first thing I say to Pete when I arrive. I tell him about our excursion to Ellenborough to check on Ellenborough Nancy. I'm pleased when Pete says that her still being in the same tree is a good sign. She must like it there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ocean Kim
Ocean Kim
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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

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

Bellevue Bill's tick
Bellevue Bill's tick
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, 29 April 2007

Introducing the new and improved Anna Bay Miles

With the new leaf in place, I may as well not even exist; I'm koala non grata. So perhaps what Cheyne's been saying all along really is true: Linksy doesn't actually love me for myself, but only for my eucalyptus! How crushing to be so used and brutally tossed aside by one so adorable. Linksy, you heart-breaker, love-taker.
I see from the noticeboard that Walcha Barbie has been moved from Barb's place to ICU. I go in to check on how she's settled in. There's a pot of leaf on the floor as well as in the usual bracket up higher. Despite her bandaged arm, she's just climbed up onto her gunyah from the ground. She looks just a like a bandaged bear; in fact, she could be a model for the koala on the official Koala Hospital T-shirt.

Across the hallway, I see that Morrish Steven has given his gunyah the disgruntled rockstar treatment again. He's managed to tear both towels off the middle of his gunyah, exposing the bare -- if a little gnawed -- wood. Innes Tony's empty unit suggests he's been shipped out or worse, but there's no word about that in the daybook. It turns how he's graduated to yard 10. Yay! Another koala on the road to recovery. I wonder how he's been enjoying the rain?

The boys (Jarrod & Paul) have put in a request to do yard 10, so I'm assigned the few front yards -- 3, 4 & 5. Kempsey is sleeping when I enter with her food. I remove the leaf pot nearest to her to give the tourists at the fence a gander while I feed her. She's getting better at it (or I am), less dribbles out although she's still got it all over her chin by the time she's done.

Links VTR
Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.

While I'm feeding, I hear a scampering noise behind me. It's Linksy! He's perched on the tree in his yard, looking longingly towards Kempsey and me (and, more importantly, the food pot). I'm conscious of his interest the whole time I'm syphoning formula into Kempsey's mouth. Every time I turn to look behind me, there's Linksy, salivating, with an "I'll have what she's having" expression on his little face. Eventually he loses interest and ascends the tree to a higher branch; or he's being nonchalant -- we'll see what he's like as soon as fresh leaf is on offer.

Links VTR
Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.

The leaf is ready to go early this morning so the yards get serviced according to the book; that is, I can finish feeding, raking, feeding, and leafing Kempsey's yard completely before proceeding to the next. While I'm at the leaf rack preparing today's branches, Links is overseeing my progress from his tree lookout. He seems almost ecstatic to see that it's finally his turn. He hightails it down the tree, peering towards me with interest. It's a race to get the leaf in the pot fast enough before Linksy is upon me, chomping apparatus at the ready.

With the new leaf in place, I may as well not even exist; I'm koala non grata. So perhaps what Cheyne's been saying all along really is true: Linksy doesn't actually love me for myself, but only for my eucalyptus! How crushing to be so used and brutally tossed aside by one so adorable. Linksy, you heart-breaker, love-taker. No longer of any use to him, he parks his tush on the gunyah and settles in for a good graze. I stare dejectedly at him for a few minutes, before shuffling away to the compost to empty Little Lord Linksleroy's poo bucket. At least I still have that honour. Sniff.

At the poo bin, I meet Chris who's involved in bush regeneration to ensure there will be plenty of koala food for years to come. He explains that, with a bit of chemical help, the koala poo breaks down nicely into soil and is returned to the earth to help grow more eucalypts. What a great little ecosystem.

Next is the latest hospital success story, Anna Bay Miles. I'd noticed that Emma had been taking some great snaps of Anna Bay Miles, since he'd been moved outside. You'd never know to look at his left eye that he'd every had conjunctivitis. There's also a healthy grey colour seeping back into his fur. It was nice to spend some time with him today.

Unlike Lord Linksy, Miles slept through the leaf preparations for the other two yards. His food pot was in the treatment room as it has some medicine added by the hospital supervisor. Cheyne was pleased to report that his formula dose has been reduced by half and he no longer requires the nutritional gel supplement he's been on since arrival. He's starting to flesh out nicely, better filling the frame of the adult male that he is.

I have to coax Miles awake, but when he comes to, he's very interested in the food. I'm astonished by the creamy grey colour of his facial fur and the glossy blackness of his nose. Like most koalas, he has a fuzzy pink chin and a pink tongue that darts in and out of his mouth while he feeds. He is an insistent feeder now, gripping the wide part of the syringe in his teeth (which is a no-no). I do my best to only dip the slim end of the syringe in his mouth, but it's like he wants to chew the whole thing up. He also dribbles some of back up, which I try to catch in the pot. Some of it lands on my hand; it's warm from his mouth. Didn't Miles attend Cheyne's koala-feeding class? hey, wait a minute, he was actually the "demonstration koala" who fed so compliantly! What's happened!?) Despite flouting all the feeding rules, it's great to see him being so pushy now, after his former passivity.

As soon as the food's finished, Miles returns to his sleeping cocoon-shape. Unfortunately, I still need to disrupt him a little in order to replenish his leaf pots. He's wedged himself between a pot and a gunyah beam; I have to dislodge the pot from behind his back, but he manages to remain in his curled up position. Replacing the pot is another story; this elicits a little grunt as he shuffles off down the other end of the gunyah for some peace and quiet.

He goes to climb through the other leaf pot, now filled with towering fresh leaf. In doing so, he puts his wait on a branch which promptly snaps. Miles loses his balance and dangles precariously, hanging onto the gunyah with his curved claws. His round bottom is swinging before me as he endeavours to clamber back on the gunyah. I cup my hands around it and give him a little supportive heave-ho until he finds purchase back on the gunyah. Funny little acrobat.

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

Sunday, 1 April 2007

Joey paparazzi

I can't watch this precarious manoeuvring. It looks so unsteady, yet it's really no different to how a koala behaves in a tree, a fluffy ball swinging from branch to branch like monkey. Waggling his bottom from side to side, he reaches the other edge of the roof and returns safely to his gunyah. I feel like I've just watched a private performance of Koala du Soleil.
Koala sign on Pacific Drive
Koala sign on Pacific Drive
From koalawrangler's gallery.

It's a gorgeous day today in koalaville, unlike this time last week when the koalas and the koalawranglers all ended up like a drowned rats. It's the Ironman Triathlon today so my road's closed. This means walking 25 minutes to where I parked my car last night. It's a beautiful day for a walk so I don't mind.

There are two new bods at the hospital today: Scottish Chris and American Tracy, international vollies newly arrived from Scotland. It's a good thing they're here as we're down a couple of people. They're trailing after John in the aviaries, learning the ropes. The fewer numbers means I've got Cathie Sampson, Oxley Westi, Kempsey Carolina and the joeys in yard 6. Only Kempsey gets fed, so I begin with her. She defies the recent feeding refresher training we had: she keeps moving the syringe to the front of her mouth where she can get a hold of it with her teeth. I manoeuvre in out of the way to prevent her fanging it too much and snapping off the tip. There's minimal spillage today. Tracy comes into the yard to feel how soft Kempsey's fur is. Like Ocean Therese, Kempsey condones a good pat and a scratch; something you wouldn't want to try on the more koala-like koalas, say, Ellenborough Nancy or Calwalla Bill.


Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.
As I'm trimming Kempsey's recycled leaf, Chris (one of the leaf-collectors) pops by. He asks if Kempsey liked the <insert exotic leaf name here> he got her yesterday. It was something like a spotty, lemon-scented, stringy-barked peppermint gum...either way, it made me realise how truly narrow my leafing skills are. Chris speaks 'leaf' fluently, while for me it's still a second language.

John takes Chris and Tracy into the joeys' yard, probably to show them the routine in a regular yard, before they get stuck into the aviaries. I see that Emma has arrived and pop into yard 9 to say hi. She's feeding Lucky Wiruna. I go and check on the babies. Links VTR is on his gunyah but scales down to greet me, peering up at me at the gate. "Leaf please!".

Cathie Sampson
Cathie Sampson
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Over in Cathie Sampson's yard, he's surprisingly frisky. He makes his way down to his gunyah's cross-beams and jumps to the ground as I'm scrubbing out one of his leaf pots. He's not like O'Briens Fiona who comes begging for formula, or like Sandfly Jye who'll chase you round the yard. He's just snuffling around the yard because he's unable to locate fresh leaf. He pauses to look up at me, does a perimeter check, then returns to his gunyah. But he doesn't stop there: he climbs one of the inner supports of his shelter out to its far edge, shimmying horizontally, while backwards and upside down. I can't watch this precarious manoeuvring. It looks so unsteady, yet it's really no different to how a koala behaves in a tree, a fluffy ball swinging from branch to branch like monkey. You'd also never believe that fragile tree forks could support them at 60 metres, but they do. Waggling his bottom from side to side, he reaches the other edge of the roof and returns safely to his gunyah. I feel like I've just watched a private performance of Koala du Soleil.

Oxley Westi
Oxley Westi
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I decide to get Sampson his leaf first, before Kempsey, and even before I clean Oxley Westi's yard. Anything to keep Sampson gunyah-bound. Westi is also mobile. I see a fuzzy blur out of the corner of my eye as I pass through her yard with Sampson's wet leaf. She doesn't make for the gate though. I quickly rake up Westi's prodigious scattering of poop, cut her leaf and return to Kempsey. Both girls have been waiting patiently. I also cut leaf for the joeys before ducking my head into the aviaries. Barb's hubby, Geoff tugs on the back of my smock as he passes me at the leaf rack: "you're supposed to wet the leaf", referring to how wet and muddy my smock is. It's a gift.

There is a new occupant in the aviaries, FiFi Houdini, otherwise known as O'Briens Fiona. She didn't last three days in the yard 10 enclosure. Ocean Therese wasn't a calming enough influence on her: Fiona kept making her way into the main part of yard 10 (and making off with Tractive Golfer's leaf). To prevent her hurting herself or escaping the hospital altogether, she's now been placed in an aviary. She's being "dehumanised", so no handling or formula; hopefully, she'll be released soon. We're terribly fond of her though; her wiley ways and delightfully pushy personality have made her a favourite. I remember when I first encountered her back in ICU. The FiFi Houdini paw-hooking manoeuvre has not changed:

Exhibit AExhibit B
O'Briens FionaO'Briens Fiona
ICU: 25 JanAviaries: 1 April

She's still getting the best of care. Once I prepare her new leaf, she returns to her gunyah and settles in for a feed. I notice a shiny, round object at the far corner of her aviary amongst the poo pellets. As I suspect, it's a nice full tick. I pocket it to process later. Tracy is standing outside Ellenborough Nancy's aviary while John cleans it. With macabre delight, I call her over to reveal my find. It's a part of koalawrangling you just have to get used to. Her reactions are just as mine were when I first encountered a well-indulged tick: squeamish discomfort.

Together we consider it in my palm; its struggling legs indicating it's still alive after vampirically feasting on poor little O'Briens Fiona. I return the wriggling thing to my pocket and finish sweeping her poop and laying down paper. She's settled back in her leaf now, calmly watching me as I work around her.

On a trip to the leaf rack, I see Robyn entering yard 9 with a towel. She's collecting Ocean Kim, the female joey from yard 9A, to pop her on the scales in the treatment room. The koalas are weighed from time to time to ensure they are not losing weight (or are gaining it, if that's the objective). As Robyn approaches, Kimmy aloft on her shoulder, Emma and I whip out our cameras. "Paparazzi", I mutter.

Ocean Kim
Ocean Kim
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Kimmy has her paw splayed on Robyn's back like a set of furry fingers. At such close range, I also notice that Kimmy has a single white eyebrow jutting out from above her right eye. Together with her impossibly fluffy ears, it makes her look wacky and dishevelled in the cutest way. She moves her head from side to side, likes she's curious about her vantage point from this newly mobile tree. Barb is there and I remark at how much Kimmy resembles her mum, Ocean Therese.

Barb fills me in on Walcha Barbie's progress after Friday's appointment with the vet. They've cleaned up the dead skin on Barbie's arm. Unfortunately they also had to remove one of her fingers due to gangrene, but this shouldn't affect her ability to climb. At least now her arm will continue to heal. Barbie's disposition is energetic; she seems to be well on the way to recovery.

Back in the dayroom, I ask Chris and Tracy whether they can to watch me write up the tick I found. From what I understand of the matter, ticks don't bother koalas like they do dogs and cats. Robyn's washing up the feed pots and explains that ticks can still result in anaemia if a koala gets a lot of them. Emma chimes in that she found 18 ticks in one go on Kempsey Carolina once.

Before I leave, we take a stroll around yard 10 to visiti the koalas up there. Tracy and Chris come along to meet them. Emma joins us to take some photos. Robyn goes into Ocean Therese's yard and gives her a neck scratch. There are plans to move Therese to a wildlife park, since it's unlikely she'd survive in the wild. We'll really miss her eager little face.

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

Monday, 19 March 2007

Furry buddha

As I enter, Condon Geoff is seated behind a veil of uneaten Swamp Mahogany and naked leaf fronds looking like a koala version of Buddha. He stares at me beatifically from his verdant mount as I start to rake up his soggy newspaper and the random smattering of poo, like so many spent shell casings.

Oceanview Terry
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I'm doing a Monday shift for the first time; they thought they'd be down on numbers so they called me in. Koalawrangler to the rescue (not). I'm paired with Jarrod to do yards 4, 5, and 6: Burraneer Henry (who I haven't seen on terra firma in quite a while), Kempsey Carolina and the babies (joeys Siren Gem and Lake Christmas [whom I've also never seen other than as a fuzzy blob on high]).

I can't resist popping my head in yard 9 to see if O'Briens Fiona is on the move. As usual, she's scuttling around begging for formula. I ask Geoff if he'd like some made up; I retire to the dayroom and beat up her double-dose of formula. By the time I get to yard 9, she's up a tree again. Fickle Fiona.


Kempsey Carolina
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I set out to feed our Kempsey, the blind permanent resident of yard 5 who never knocks back a feed. She's more dribblepuss than usual today, or maybe I'm just used to feeding koalas these days who are better at keeping it in their mouths. I do everything I can to keep the syringe high in the air, as Amanda first showed me. There's also the little trick of holding the syringe there once it's empty to encourage her to keep swallowing; the minute she lowers her head it all starts to slop out. Drops end up running down her chin, on her fur, on her leaf, on me. I manoeuvre the pot so that it's directly under her chin and this catches some of the run-off. As I fill the syringe, I notice little flecks of green: leaf pulp has mixed itself in with her dribbled formula.

At these close quarters, I find myself looking at Kempsey's eyes. Koala eyes are brown with a black almond-shape set vertically like a cat's. Kempsey's right eye is completely absent; all that remains is a sunken warp in the fur where the eye once was. I remember one of the uni vets telling me that the dead eye is worked out by the body (a case of abjection, if there ever was one); it heals over cleaner than any suture. Kempsey's left eye is intact, but blind. Instead of the almond cat's iris, there is a dun-coloured disc like a brown dilated pupil.

Dribbling aside, Kempsey is a pleasure to feed. She doesn't behave like the other, wild, koalas. She seems to have succumbed readily to her five-star care at the hospital. She accepts back scratches and chin tickles without resistance. Even wiping her face with a wet washer following her feed is a breeze compared to the other patients who usually move their face from side to side to avoid it: imagine the irritated face of a child submitting to having its face wiped by an overzealous mother.

Jarrod has finished in yards 4 and 6, so I duck my head into the aviaries to see if I can lend a hand. There are still three aviaries to do so I elect to clean the non-wet-bottoms, since I'm heading back into the healthy koalas yards again later when the new leaf arrives. Condon Geoff is in an aviary undergoing post-treatment monitoring. It seems that he has been successfully treated and, all going well, will be released soon. I'm especially pleased for him since he was the koala who seemed among the keenest to leave ICU.

Condon Geoff
Oceanview Terry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

As I enter, he's seated behind a veil of uneaten Swamp Mahogany and naked leaf fronds looking like a koala version of Buddha. He stares at me beatifically from his verdant mount as I start to rake up his soggy newspaper and the random smattering of poo, like so many spent shell casings.

I keep out of his way, taking the other leaf pot, emptying it, scrubbing out the leaf scum and refilling it in preparation for the fresh leaf. After the recent rain, the dirt comes up in moist chunks with the trowel. I refill his water bowl and turn to leaf.

Bellevue Bill
Bellevue Bill
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Bellevue Bill gets sight of me from the aviary opposite. He stalks along his gunyah towards me like I have something he's after. Bill gets fed each day by the uni researchers. They're trialling him with some oral medication so perhaps he thinks I might have some tucker for him.

Oceanview Terry
Oceanview Terry
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Next I start on Oceanview Terry. He's down the far end of his gunyah, completely swathed in leaf. He looks like he wants to be alone, so I leave him be and start on his floor. Not having a towel to replace on the gunyah is lot more koala-friendly. You can pretty much keep out of their way. Unexpectedly, Terry decides to break through the leafy veneer and see what I'm up to. He scrambles along the gunyah adeptly like a tightrope walker, restlessly looking for fresh leaf. It must make them anxious, not being able to search out new leaf when they're ready. Still, they get it handed to them on a platter each morning, so that's the next best thing.

I'm crouched on the ground relaying Terry's paper. I look up and he's staring down at me quizzically. I wonder what they make of the daily ablutions we carry out for them. It's a hospital, so they get fresh water, dirt, leaf and floor coverings every day, 365 days a year. I tell him the leaf won't be long now.


Melaleuca
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.
Time for a quick cuppa until Chris comes in and tells us the leaf's ready. He tells anyone who's listening that he's brought in a special lot of melaleuca for Anna Bay Miles. Miles is from Newcastle way, so it's a leaf he particularly likes. Apparently, when they had melaleuca earlier in the week, he wolfed down the bottlebrush-like flowers whole. Anything to build up his strength. I had seen Cheyne feeding him earlier on and mentioned to her that I'd seen him gnawing on his right knee yesterday. She hadn't heard about the behaviour so made a point of noting it down as something to watch for. It could signal some pain in that leg or his teeth.

With the leaf ready to go, we go back to the outside yards. Kempsey is ranging about on her gunyah so I feed her first, followed by the joeys. Next I fill Condon Geoff's empty pot. He gradually moves across to it, but tramples over the old leaf as he goes. I try gingerly to remove the old pot so that I can refill it with new leaf, but he eeps in protest. Okay, be that way. I remove the pot and leave behind the leaf he's sitting on, until he's distracted enough with eating the new leaf for me to whip the old out from under him.

Siren Gem
Siren Gem
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I notice through the fence that Siren Gem is down in yard 6. Yippee! I get to feed him, which I've not done before. I go into the yard and he reaches out to me. He knows I have the potential to provide formula. I nip back to the dayroom and mix it up. He's reaching out for it by the time I get back. In between the syringes, his little tongue bobs in and out. Joeys are so compliant compared to their adult counterparts; having been raised in captivity, they aren't bothered by humans so long as we leave them be...and feed them on demand!

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

Thursday, 1 March 2007

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.

O'Briens Fiona

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.

Lookout Harry

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.

Tuesday, 20 February 2007

When nice joeys turn naughty

Judy deftly plucks him from the gunyah, but Woody puts up a struggle, squeaking and nibbling on her arm. Vina grabs his feet and the two of them make for the staff-room with the naughty joey dangling between them.

Lady Nelson Woody
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I'm doing Tuesday arvo -- another day I've not done before. Vina is team leader and is lovely and welcoming. In fact, she's quite hands-off, which is great now that I know the ropes here better.

I suggest that I go off to yard 10 to water some leaf. I fill Tractive Golfer's and Ocean Therese's leaf pots and wet their leaf. Ocean Therese is high in her tree which is good news: they're trying to get her muscles used to climbing again. I decide not to disturb the sleeping koalas on the front row by watering their leaf yet; it's better to wait until the crowd comes by so that they can see the koalas waking up.

I see that there's a koala in yard 2, the corner yard near the entrance. Back in the staff-room, I'm disappointed to see on the board that it's O'Briens Fiona. She was the feisty one in ICU who was always trying to escape. Fiona was released a short time ago but is back in as she's sadly underweight. She was found low in a tree: that may mean that she's not getting around to the good leaf. They're fattening her up again with formula. It worries me that koalas put back in the wild are struggling to do what comes naturally.

Kempsey Carolina

Vina suggests I feed Kempsey Carolina. She's in a great position near the front of the gunyah facing the crowd. I wait till the guide leads them around to us before I start feeding. Kempsey is leaning out of the gunyah towards me, looking beseechingly for food. She's slopping her feed everywhere as usual so I wipe her fuzzy lip with a washer. Then it's a dash to the kitchen to grab the feeds for yard 9. Wiruna Lucky is in a prime position for the tourists to see her feed.

The group moves on and I start on Bonny Fire who's reaching out her paws to get formula. I notice that Barb is over in the joey yard. She comes in to yard 9 and tells me some very sad news: little Settlement Point Steffi has had to be euthanased. I had a dreadful feeling that might happen, but was holding out hope that it wouldn't. Barb says she was too near death to not put her out of her misery. The poor little angel. Barb goes to check on her other troubled little baby, Links VTR, who is hesitant about climbing after the nasty fall from the tree last year that dented his nose.

I feed Birthday Girl and finish watering the yard. Vina is in the joey yard checking Siren Gem, who was sleeping down on the gunyah for a change, for ticks. I can hear her eeping in protest as Vina frisks her. She's found four ticks already, she tells me.

Suddenly we're joined by Lady Nelson Woody (a male, despite the name). He looks like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, but Woody's the naughty bullyboy joey who was tormenting Siren Gem the other day.

Lady Nelson Woody

No sooner is he down by Gem's side than he starts biting him again. Naughty little monkey! Vina goes to grab Woody to separate them and we call Judy over to witness the naughtiness first hand. Judy decides it's time Woody gets weighed but he takes off up the tree out of reach. Because he can.

Lady Nelson Woody & Siren Gem

Soon enough though, he bounds back down the tree and onto the roof. He's charging about and at one point he looks like he may leap off the edge and onto my head. It's hard to know what he'll do!

It's like he's determined to come down and torment Gem, even if it means being captured for it. Judy deftly plucks him from the gunyah, but Woody puts up a struggle, squeaking and nibbling on her arm. Vina grabs his feet and the two of them make for the staff-room with the naughty joey dangling between them. I ask if they need a bag and whip one off the clothesline as we're passing. They pop him in.

On the scales he's over 4 kilos. He only needs to be 3.5 kilos for release. Judy decides to keep him in an ICU unit overnight for release the next day. I offer to cut up leaf from the leaf shed. Judy says I can use the leaf that was destined for Settlement Point Steffi. How sad!

Outside, I deftly cut up two bunches of leaf and bring them into the unit. Judy deposits Woody into the dark room. He looks quite disoriented. I tell him he's in isolation for being a naughty little koala. An agro-ala.

I learned something new today -- Oxley Westi doesn't have a pinky after all. It's just a fold in her pouch. At least her eyes are improving, even if she's not a mother.

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