Leaf buffet

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

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

Ocean Therese
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Morrish Steven
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

Morrish Steven
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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


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

Morrish Steven
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Innes Tony
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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


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


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


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

Taking Nancy home

There has been a catalogue of koala machismo in the ICU, from dirt-tipping and horny grunting sounds to the pawing/chasing/foot-nibbling by that lothario Morrish Steven towards Emma, one of the other vollies. Now I'm convinced he's Jim Morrison's koala reincarnation.

Ellenborough Nancy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I scan the whiteboard to get a quick feel for the lay of the land: who's moved, who's been shipped out. I see a note next to Ocean Therese's name. Her transfer to the Walkabout Wildlife Sanctuary at Calga (near Gosford) has been approved. No! I knew it was coming but how I will miss that fuzzy little face around here! I see from their website that she will have an ex-Koala Hospital companion in a fellow called Keith the koala, formerly known as Parklands Keith. He looks a nice chap, a bit like Wiruna Lucky (if that's his picture on the homepage). I can see a trip to Gosford some time in the future to visit our Therese.

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

Ocean Roy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

Joey mess
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

Lake Private
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Morrish Steven, mid-yawn
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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


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

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


Ellenborough Nancy in her new home
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Click here to view more of today's koala hospital snaps.

Foxie lady

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

Ocean Therese
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Morrish Steven
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

FiFi Houdini's final escape

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

Links Lorna
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Tractive Golfer
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

Lookout Harry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Oceanview Terry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

O'briens Fiona
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

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

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

Hindman Foxie
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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
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
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
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 A	Exhibit B
ICU: 25 Jan	Aviaries: 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
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.

Wet koalas, wet koalawranglers

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

Lookout Harry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

Sandfly Jye
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Sandfly Jye
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

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


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

Warrego Martin
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Ocean Therese
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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