Oxley Westi's surprise visit

Oxley Westi and joey Oxley Holly
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I've been busy spreading a rumour concerning the possibility that one of our yard 9 resident koalas, Bonny Fire, *might be* "with pinkie" (i.e., carrying an unfurred joey in her pouch). If the truth be known, the rumour mill started with the hospital supervisor, Cheyne, who can smell pouch grease at 50 paces. "Pouch grease" is the secretion that sterilises the pouch and keeps the unfurred pinkie moist (it's a little like brown sorbelene).

However excited we all were at the prospect of a new little baby Bonny, it must be said that another pregnancy probably would have taken too much out of her. Bonny's in retirement mode now: the kids have all left home, she's made the sea-change, and now she wants to put her feet up for a bit, potter in the garden, play a little bowls, do a bit of volunteer work. Bonny's last "accidental" joey (when a male patient from another yard broke into yard 9), Bonny Ash, was taxing enough for her (and it simply ruined her weekly Mah-jong night having a joey tagging along). She's not a young koala anymore. So another change-of-life baby would have probably been the last straw for Bonny. (Seriously though, koalas don't go through a "change of life"; they can breed right through their adult lives).

So it was disappointing that there wasn't going to be the pitter-patter of little clawed feet around yard 9; but, you know what they say: a pinkie may go out the door, but a joey comes back through the window. (Well, they *don't* say that, but it works for the purposes of this story).

Oxley Westi, back in March 2007
From broken_puzzle's gallery.

Back in February 2007, not long after I started at the hospital, I blogged about a koala called Oxley Westi here. When she was admitted, she was quite distinctive in that her eyes were "exopthalmic", meaning the eyeballs protruded abnormally. You can see earlier photos of Westi here here, when her eyes were in better shape.

A veterinary opthalmologist came in to look at Westi's eyes but could not be certain of the cause. We applied a special cream three times a day and this produced some improvement.

Westi also had another more pleasing medical condition: she was "up the pouch" (now that Cheyne has appropriated my neologism "with pinkie", I've been forced to invent another term in the vein of "up the duff"). Yes, on the whiteboard it clearly said "pinkie in pouch", although there was some debate at the time whether this was definitely the case. And we thought we would probably never know for sure. Westi stayed with us a few months and then was released; her eyesight not great, but adequate to perform her everyday activities.


Oxley Holly
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Eleven months later, which brings us to a week ago, motorists reported a koala walking along the busy Oxley Highway with a joey on her back. It was Oxley Westi! She *did* have a pinkie and it had become a joey which we gave the name Oxley Holly. Holly was in great shape. At 2.4kg, she was much too big for the pouch and certainly old enough to be away from her mother. Here is some video of Holly climbing aboard her mum's back as they eat leaf together.


Unfortunately Westi was not doing as well as her daughter. Although her body condition was good, her eyes had become much, much worse. They had clouded over significantly and were protruding even more than they had the year before. It was clear that she was blind. There was nothing we could do for Westi now. She was examined by a veterinary ophthalmologist who came up especially from Sydney to advise us, but the decision was made for Westi to euthanased to put an end to the pain her eyes must have been causing her. At least Westi was able to leave a tiny bit of herself behind in the guise of little Holly.

The same can be said of Bangalay Millie, a female koala with advanced wet bottom who was sent to the great gumtree in the sky last week. From her necropsy it was clear that she had carried a joey at some point; it's gladdening to know that Millie also contributed to the great circle of koala life (to paraphrase a Lion King metaphor).

Holly spent a little time in her own intensive care unit (here she is being released there for the first time), where she was joined by another joey with a rather unique story. William Krystal was a joey found on William Street in downtown Port Macquarie. The gentleman who discovered her was, shall we say, "tired and emotional" after an evening at the pub. When he came across an abandoned joey, he cuddled her for about two hours before bringing her to the koala hospital. Krystal was completely fine (although we generally discourage human contact for the joey's own good). We were just glad that the chap had not come across an older koala who might not have been so accommodating to his affectionate ways (then we discourage human contact for the human's own good).

Koalas might look like cuddly bears, but let the koala-cuddler beware (caveat koala huggor)! They possess scimitar claws that don't retract, meaning they can deliver nasty gashes whether they mean to or not. Just the other day, Barb was holding Oxley Holly, who gave a little start, inadvertently gave Barb a good scratch on the nose. As one of our special home-carers, Barb is used to a bit unintentional joey biffo. Pressing a tissue to her injury, she assured me: "it wouldn't be the first time, Sam, and it won't be the last".

Although at over 2kg Holly and Krystal are large enough to be separated from their mothers, we like to let the joeys continue to grow in a safe environment where they can also improve their climbing skills. So both joeys joined Settlers Inn Casey in yard 6 where they have a large spreading gum to practise climbing in.

In other koala news, we're a bit concerned that Ocean Joseph's not weeing. Cheyne tried dangling him by his arms the other day (which he looked like he rather enjoyed), in an effort to encourage a dribble, but to no avail. She fears that there might be a problem with his kidneys being backed up after his accident.

Moruya Judith
From koalawrangler's gallery.

We also got called out to a house in Moruya Drive. A koala was up someone's orange tree: not a good place for a koala. Their backyard was surrounded on all sides by other backyards with dogs: definitely not a good place for a koala. Being in a orange tree had its advantages and disadvantages for us rescuers. Having very dense branches meant the koala could not spring out away from branch to branch as they often do; but this also meant it was difficult to for us to get up under the branches to get to the koala. Barb had the "scare" poles, designed to encourage the koala to move down the tree. I was wedged underneath it with a bag. After quite a bit of scurrying back and forth (and stamping all over the residents' ornamental garden), I managed to use the bag to lift the koala's arms from the tree. I backed away and out into the open with said koala and somehow lowered her to the ground and, with Barb's help, got the bag over her. Although my heart was racing and my legs were shaking, it was a textbook rescue.

Kennedy Easy - released
From broken_puzzle's gallery.

The koala didn't have an ear tag, meaning she had never been a hospital patient before (woo hoo!) and she wasn't going to become one now either. Her eyes looked clear and her bum looked clean and white – seemingly wet bottom-free! This was merely a relocation, the koala doesn't get an official name. But I've dubbed her Moruya Judith that's what she *would* have been called had she been admitted. We drove around the corner to a lovely bushy corner with plenty of eucalyptus where we let her go.

Some good news: Kennedy Easy has been released, which was captured on film by my fellow koalawrangler, Emma.

Click here to see more photos of this week's koala patients at the Koala Hospital, Port Macquarie.

Easy like Sunday morning

Tightening two strings with both hands around the middle of the gunyah, I suddenly fancy I'm lacing a corset...albeit a skinny terry-toweling corset on a long wooden beam that has a koala attached to it. Hmmm, what would Freud say?

Kennedy Easy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I had written in the daybook that I wouldn't be in today. Then I wound up back in Port after a briefer-than-expected trip to Sydney, so I arrived at the hospital "unannounced", as it were.

I drop off my newspapers and notice a few new names on the mini whiteboards in ICU. One darling girl is Kennedy Easy who was found in a yard with a dog! She's not snuggled into her leaf as most of the other ICU patients are, but peering out into the corridor, and at me as I walk past. She looks quite peaceful. They've only got her in for observation. Right now though, she's observing me.

Pete says I'm to help Cheryle in yard 9. I've met Cheryle a few times before; I used to wonder if she was somehow 'related' to Jupiter Cheryl (eg, was involved in her rescue), but they spell their names differently :)

Cheryle's just coming out of the babies' yard with a bunch of leaf. The babies (Linksy and Kimmy) are frolicking around on the their gunyah, wide-eyed, and looking for fresh leaf. Cheryle has already done most of the recycle in the main yard. It's just a question of feeding and sweeping now.

Bonny Fire is up her tree. There's a little bit of concern as she hasn't been coming down much lately to be fed. She's one of the older girls, so it's important for her to be fed her supplement. Pete also wants to check on the thing they spied between one of her toes last Sunday. Perhaps it wasn't a tick after all, but a funny sort of skin tag.

Lucky is wandering around the edge of the yard, near the corner she seems to favour: near the graves of Perch Miracle and Cloud, two of the hospital's most cherished permanent-resident koalas. Cheryle grabs Lucky's feedpot and heads her way, calling out to her gently so as not to scare her. I head for Birthday Girl's gunyah and try to locate her in the foliage. She's deeply buried under an arched sweep of leaf, so I crouch beneath it to share the sanctuary of her cubby hole. As she looks up at me, her grey face is speckled golden brown from the sun filtering through the leaves. She takes the syringe gently, with none of the urgency of the younger koalas. She knows her meal's a sure thing.

Cheryle carries on with the recycle while I rake the poop on the astroturf. There are one or two runnier patches, which is unusual for koala poo. Cheryle says that Lucky seems to be suffering from a bit of diarrhoea.

With the main yards raked, I set off to sweep out the babies' yard. All I can see is an impossibly white bottom poking through the leafy gunyah.



Then she sits up and takes notice -- why, it's Ocean Kim!


It's hard to clean in a yard with the most gorgeous koala specimens so nearby. They're kids and their hungry and they know we generally come bearing food. They're I wander around the gunyah to see what Linksy's up to. He's making a good meal of yesterday's remaining nicholii.


Links VTR
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I wrench myself free of the joeys' grasp (of cuteness) to replenish the numerous water bowls around the main part of the yard. Lucky Wiruna is still on the ground but is making her way over to the gunyah. Surprisingly, Birthday Girl has switched gunyahs -- from her usual one near the joeys, over to the main gunyah configuration that Lucky and Bonny typically share. When I tell Cheryle about it, she's surprised (and impressed!) that Birthday Girl still has the agility to climb. She's an old koala and suffers from arthritis.

Ellenborough Nancy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

We're now waiting for fresh leaf so I wander over to yard 10 where Jim and Emma are. I'm keen to see how Ellenborough Nancy is settling in at her new digs in Links Lorna's old yard. (I also wonder how little Eepy is doing out in the wild). Ocean Therese is sleeping curled up on her gunyah, Tractive Golfer is chewing at yesterday's leaf. Oxley Jo is snuggled up in her leaf as well. Emma is feeding Sandfly Jye and Jim is cleaning Ocean Roy's pots. I ask how the new third pot is going. We installed these (with sticky tape!) last Sunday. Apparently, some have slipped down a little, but generally they are doing their job of providing a extra shelter on these less shady yards. An additional problem which we didn't anticipate during our feasibility study and cost-benefit analysis (ie two minutes' of conversation last Sunday) is the poop factor. We knew that the fixed pots could not be removed for thorough cleaning; they would have to be squirted clean with a hose. We also didn't count on the koalas using the third pot as an ersatz tree trunk and pooping into them. Jim wants to try to obtain some more metal pot brackets and afix them to the gunyah properly.

Ocean Roy
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I look in on Ellenborough Nancy. I'm glad they gave the room upgrade to Nancy. She's a koala who would really appreciate the shift from the aviaries to here. It's wonderful to see her outside in the sun and out of the shadows. She looks different; her eye, to my untrained one, looks completely cured, compared to the weepy left eye she came in with. I glance over to Ocean Roy. He suddenly demonstrates one of those unexpected leaps that koalas are capable of -- about two metres straight off his gunyah to the ground. It takes Jim and me by surprise. Roy's just doing a perimeter check of his yard. I yoo-hoo him at him and he looks up, bleached white by the sun.

Calwalla Bill
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

The leaf arrives and we quickly replenish the outside yards before starting inside in ICU. I've got Calwalla Bill, the koala who swiped at Helen the other week. I'm not going to be complacent about doing his unit; I'll keep out of his way and hopefully he'll keep out of mine. He's down the left of his gunyah so I replace the towel at the right, leaving a long string dangling at in the middle in preparation for the next towel. I give him some lovely wet leaf down the right end and he ambles down towards it, unfortunately positioning himself right in the centre of the gunyah.

I manage to secure the new towel on the left side now, but can't finish the job with Bill's butt right above my head (where I need to tie the final knot). I concentrate on the rest of his gunyah -- sweeping up newspaper, mopping the floor (darting looks at him all the while) and relaying the paper. I may as well not exist for all the attention I'm getting from Bill -- he's gobbling up his new leaf. Finally, he shuffles in a bit further and I can tie of the loose strings. Tightening two strings with both hands around the middle of the gunyah, I suddenly fancy I'm lacing a corset...albeit a skinny terry-toweling corset on a long wooden beam that has a koala attached to it. Hmmm, what would Freud say?

Oxley Nina
From brokenpuzzle's gallery.

Peter and Emma are both working on Oxley Nina (a newcomer)'s gunyah. She was brought in after a motor vehicle accident (her nose and chin look a little grazed). It's suspected that she may be harbouring a joey in her pouch. Like many koalas, she's not interested in moving around her gunyah to allow fresh towelling to be laid down -- not even moving in the direction of new leaf. It becomes a team effort -- just as Emma lures Nina northwards up the fork bisecting her gunyah, I wack the towel down which Peter then adroitly ties on.

In the dayroom having the post-shift cuppa, I check out some of the changes afoot since I was last in. I'm saddened to discover that Nulla Sam's swelling was the result of an infected dog bite. Koalas are non-aggressive and non-treatening animals, making them vulnerable to such attacks...and therefore undeservingly so! I also notice that Bellevue Bill's prognosis is now listed as poor -- his kidneys have become affected. Bill is such a sweet boy, and young(ish). I'll keep my fingers crossed for him.

More optimistically, I see that there have been a few releases: Hindman Foxie (who has a joey in her pouch) and Oxley Westi (the one with the protruding eyes). A koala has been admitted and released in the days since I last worked at the hospital. Her name is Dunbogan Tracy (after one of the international vollies here) and she looks like such a cutie! You can also read what Tracy and Chris had to say about her here.

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.

Bye-bye Burraneer Henry *sniff*

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

Cathie Sampson
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Oxley Westi
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

Burraneer Henry
From koalawrangler's gallery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

National Koalagraphic

We're getting a bit of blue gum lately. I call it Skippy leaf -- according to my dusty mind records, it's exactly the kind of leaf that Sonny Hammond used to blow against to summon Skippy the bush kangaroo to the (usually improbable) rescue in the eponymously titled TV show.

Links Lorna
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I get in at 7am again today, Thursday. I'm continuing my teamleader training with Amanda. The concreters are at work pouring slabs around the edge of yards 1a, 2, 3, 4, 5 and part of yard 9. Just in time for the koala hospital open day on Saturday 7 April 2007.

Amanda has already checked that all koalas are present and accounted for inside in ICU. Like last time, she draws up a matrix with the acronym for each leaf type in columns across the top and the name of each outside koala down the side. Teamleaders only read leaf for those koalas directly in the care of the hospital, not the ones being monitored by the uni researchers. We then head out to the yards and attempt to determine which leaf is flavour of the month and which isn't.

The different types of leaf flummoxed me when I first began at the hospital. Several weeks of cutting and stripping branches on every shift has produced a gradual familiarity. Now I'm astounded by my growing ability to recognise different eucalypt types. I can pretty much tell apart Tallowwood, Nicholii, Melaleuca, Swamp Mahogany and Blue Gum. Swamp Mahogany is always a koala favourite -- for the koalas around here anyway; a koala from a different part of Australia would probably eat a different array of leaf, depending upon what is available in their home area.

We're getting a bit of blue gum lately. I call it Skippy leaf -- according to my dusty mind records, it's exactly the kind of leaf that Sonny Hammond used to blow against to summon Skippy the bush kangaroo to the (usually improbable) rescue in the eponymously titled TV show. Skippy was the after-school staple from my childhood. (You can see the scintillating opening credits to this iconic piece of kitsch 1960s Australiana here.)

I should qualify that I can generally pick the different leaf as long as each is in a nice single branch, but not necessarily when they're cut up and bunched together in the pot. It's a bit like being able to recognise whole heads of lettuce -- cos, iceberg, mignonette, romano....and then having to 'read' said leaves from within a mesclun salad. And 'reading' the leaf is what we have to do.

When we head into yard 10, there is koala on Tractive Golfer's gunyah and it's not Tractive Golfer! Yard 10 is a large open yard with a small circular yard within it that houses Ocean Therese. There are also about six smaller yards that run along the periphery of yard 10; these yards contain some of the koalas being monitored by Sydney uni researchers.

Tractive Golfer, one of the hospital's long-term residents, has free run in the main area of yard 10. He has scoliosis, producing a distinctively misshapen spine, whereas this unfamiliar koala is small, has normal spine curvature, and female -- judging by the tag in her right ear. Wait a minute! It's that tricksy O'Briens Fiona a.k.a. FiFi Houdini! Before I start wondering by what rare feats of magic she got from yard 9 (her most recent stomping ground) to yard 10, Amanda explains that, according to the whiteboard, Fiona's just been moved into the circular enclosure in yard 10 with Ocean Therese. She's obviously managed to scale her enclosure to make it into the main part of yard 10 (so still safely captive within the hospital). There she is sitting there happily chomping on Golfer's leaf.

There's a fine line to be trod between confining the koalas securely, but still enabling them the open-air environment they covet as wild animals. Most of the time, this balance works beautifully: the koalas enjoy both a secure outside existence in the yards while they still receive the best possible treatment and care. In Fiona's case, she seems to be a born roamer, and like her famous namesake Harry Houdini, is an expert at escapology.


Amanda & O'Briens Fiona
From koalawrangler's gallery.
By now Fiona has made her way to the ground and is coming towards us, ever after that elusive formula. Amanda mutters that she wishes she had a towel so that she could pick her up and redeposit her in her correct yard. "How 'bout my smock?". I whip off my koalawrangler smock and it works a treat. All koalas present and accounted for in their correct yards.

With the leaf checks done, I scatter the collection boxes around the yards. The morning troupe is trickling in. Vanessa and I are doing yard 10 together today. There's a couple of photographers here from National Geographic who are snapping away as we work. They're especially interested in the feeds. I go in to feed Sandfly Jye and wonder how my hair looks (like is there a huge green insect in it like the other day?). I'm mostly carrying on with my work as usual, except that I feel a little self-conscious cracking off superfluous stems at the leaf-rack with a photographer clicking away right in front of me. Now I know how the koalas feel when I'm on shift. Should I "vogue" or something?

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

When I carry the wet leaf into Oxley Jo's yard, the photographer's compadre interrupts and asks if I can enter at less than a breakneck speed. And can I walk around the gunyah the long way. Okay, shurrrrr. I wonder what captions will appear under these photos. They dutifully copy down our names and the names of the koalas. I wonder if I'll be listed as "Oxley Jo" or "Links Lorna" by mistake.

Cheyne is giving "how to feed" refresher training to all the shifts this week. The first koala I ever fed was Kempsey Carolina. Her feeding style is pretty unique and I had to make it up with every new koala since, so it's good to understand the right way to do it. Cheyne has Anna Bay Miles to demonstrate on. The two most important things appear to be how much of the syringe you place in the koala's mouth and how fast you squirt. Only the skinny tip of the syringe should enter the koala's mouth, even though they may try to draw the wide part of the syringe in. Sometimes they chew on the end too; this makes sense since chewing is the natural way for them to eat, not slurping on a plastic tube. However, letting the koala chew on the syringe increases the likelihood that they'll bite a bit off -- not good. Although they will often try to pull the syringe to the front, it's place to slot the syringe tip along the edge of the koala's mouth between the front and back teeth. Their left-hand side is usually best since most people are right-handed and therefore feed from that side.

The other important aspect of feeding is not to force the formula out too quickly. No-one wants liquid syphoned into their mouths like a firehose -- including koalas. Drinking the formulat should be a pleasurable experience -- they should be allowed to enjoy it!

When I return to yard 10, I glance over to yard 9 and notice that both joeys in 9a are bunched up very high in their tree. Wow! Linksy is really climbing now, like a real koala. I'm happy-sad about it; glad for him that he's koalarising along with dehumanising, but sad that it spells his imminent release. I don't think he weigh enough yet though, so we'll have him for a while longer.

Before I go, Tricia points out Oxley Westi in a lounge pose. They usually let their limbs hang or stretch them out when they're trying to cool down.


Oxley Westi
From koalawrangler's gallery.
Click here to view more of today's koala hospital photos.

I eep therefore I pee

I croon at Oxley Jo a bit to settle her. I notice that she's started to pee, whether out of nervousness or simple koala casualness: I need to pee, therefore I pee.

Ocean Therese & Sam
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Jim and I arrive at the same time so Peter sends us both up to do yard 10. He tells us he's "read" the leaf. We both miss what he's said at first; I keep thinking "red", what's red? Oh, read.

I like it in yard 10; there's none of the cramped confines of ICU or the aviaries and it's in the open air. Most of these koalas are favourites of mine too since they were in ICU when I started volunteering here. I've seen them moved out to aviaries and then the yards. Some of them are on the final treatment round before release, like Macquarie Peter whom they set free yesterday. Links Lorna and Warrego Martin have both been taken off their treatment (so no more jabs or formula). The vets will monitor their blood for a while, and if all's well, they'll be released.

We decide that Jim will take Lorna, Martin & Tom; I'll take Ocean Therese, Tractive Golfer and Oxley Jo. Jim goes off to feed Tozer Tom. Golfer is up his tree as is Therese; however, she comes at the sign of food. Today she feeds like a baby; I can hear her gulping down the milk like from a bottle. I wonder if I should pick her up and burp her afterwards. She'd probably let me. She's sitting there so beatifically, her arms wrapped around the tree with such complacency, that I decide to take a few pics of the two of us. She doesn't mind my getting close to her; she's probably the only koala that will allow it. Nothing seems to faze her. Jim takes a pic of the two of us and soon after that Therese heads back up the tree to find a comfy spot to settle in. Photo shoot over.

Oxley Jo
From koalawrangler's gallery.

In Jo's yard, she looks at me earnestly as she always does. I need to throw out the leaf from her recycled pot and replenish that with the good leaf from the two newer pots. She's under the middle one so I go to take the recycled one to her right, but she makes a few little eepy protests. I croon at her a bit to settle her. I notice that she's started to pee, whether out of nervousness or simple koala casualness: I need to pee, therefore I pee. I keep away from her while I rake her yard and replace the recycled leaf pot. It is so overflowing with fluffy leaf that her gunyah is positively festooned in greenery. That should tide her over till the fresh stuff arrives.

After I've done my yards, I go and see what's doing elsewhere. I decide to wash up the used formula pots. I notice from the whiteboards that there's a new admission from yesterday: Golf Starr. He was found sitting low in a tree suffering lethargy. I wonder what causes this? Dehydration? Lack of good leaf?

Swapping between yards is not encouraged due to the risk of cross-contamination, but the leaf hasn't arrived and there are units to be cleaned. Melaleuca Alfie is in the treatment room. They must have taken him out to feed him and now they're waiting for his unit to be ready to return him to it. He's getting a bit restless.

Sandfly Jye
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I start on the only remaining unit not yet cleaned: Sandfly Jye's. He has very open nostrils that are ringed in pink skin, making his nose look quite porcine. There is a huge red stain on the towels on his gunyah. I show Peter and the vet and they decree that it is simply tannin from the wood (no doubt drawn out by Jye's urine). They decide to try to feed Jye in the treatment room too, so this gives me a free run at cleaning his unit without him in it; it's always easier sans koala.

The leaf has arrived! I spray my boots well with metholated spirits and wash my hands with soap before heading back to yard 10. It will be quick job replenishing the leaf since everything else is done. Ocean Therese is back down again, this time standing up on her gunyah and chewing some of yesterday's leaf with her paws rested on a higher beam. I stock her up and she returns to her chomping. Jo gets down from her perch and tears over to her water dish. Just as suddenly she bounds away to the fence and does a circuit of her gunyah before scaling the beam and repositioning herself in the fork.

Tractive's leaf is last since he's still up his tree and showing no sign of budging. Everyone else is finishing up as I stroll back to the day-room. I see Emma feeding Bonny Fire so I go in to pay a visit. Wiruna Lucky is right near them, taking a great interest in Bonny's food. Bonny, meanwhile, has lost interest and is ambling off towards the leaf. Emma tells me about a time when Bonny got a bad dose of the runs from eating the formula. They had to hydrate her with straight water for a while.

On my way out I notice that Oxley Westi, the little bulging-eyed koala from ICU, is now outside in yard 1. I like it when they graduate to the outside. It's so much nicer for them. This one has to have its eyes smeared in an ointment morning and night. The cream goes around the eye and on the eyeball itself. It can't be pleasant, but it's working. I can see how much her eyes have improved. The right one seems bulgier than the left.

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

Joeyz in da hood

We all stare up at the squabbling joeys like it's a sort of punch-and-judy show with live fluffy handpuppets.

Wiruna Lucky
From koalawrangler's gallery.

After having lunch at home with D___, I head back to the koala hospital. I'm a bit tired now. Although, I'm not getting as dog-tired as I did when I first started koala-wrangling back in the day, the mornings are still fatiguing. I'm wearing the same dirt-stained clothes. There are muddy smears up my legs and dirt in the creases of my elbow. I hung my smock over my car seat so at least that's dry.

Wendy is mixing formula. Gwen, the usual team-leader, will be in later. There seems to be quite a few helpers here -- Geoff, Erin the animal science student from the morning shift, Mary from Sundays, Yasmin from Thursdays, and a few others. On Sunday arvo there were only three of us so this seems like a host of thousands by comparison. I ask if I'm superfluous (because I feel like I'd be quite happy to go home and put my feet up at this point), but I'm assured that there'll be plenty for me to do.

I get started on the towels from this morning. They're almost dry but not quite. Wendy has been giving them a quick 'burst' in the dryer to dry them off. Erin is wandering about so I ask her to help me with the washing. Suddenly we hear a commotion in yard 6. The two joeys are not only wide awake (instead of slouched in their trees), they are scampering about the roof of their shelter. I recognise Siren Gem as the one without the ear-tag. The other tagged male is Lady Nelson Woody. At first it seems like they're playing, but then it becomes clear that it's more rough-housing than playing and it's quite one-sided. Gem is sitting at the edge of the roof while Woody is biting at his ear and thwacking him intermittently with his paw. I start calling out (like they'd listen to me...), "hey, that's a bit rough; that's not nice!".


Siren Gem and Lady Nelson Woody
From koalawrangler's gallery.
A crowd is forming outside the yards' wire fence as the tourists wait for the 3pm tour; but the handlers are all standing and gawping at the joeys' shenanigans. Suddenly, Woody stops the attack, turns tail and bounds away to the tree like a rabbit; he scrambles up the tree, looks down for moment then leaps to the roof like he's a sugarglider. He repeats the same process again. Down the tree, over to Gem, whom he gives a bite, a wack and a scratch, then bounds off up the tree. His movements are spritely like a puppy (yes, he's run the gamut of Noah's ark in all of 10 seconds); I'm so used to seeing them wedged in their tree branches unmoving. But I try not to be taken in by his cuteness. Poor Gem is eeping in protest but not fighting back. He just sits still, cornered, awaiting the next onslaught. I decide to take matters into my own hands and race off to get Geoff.

Geoff takes the joey bullying seriously and tears off after me. We all stare up at the squabbling joeys like it's a sort of punch-and-judy show with live fluffy handpuppets. Finally, the joeys separate -- Woody heads east and Gem west. Gem climbs as far out as he can, as far away from Woody as possible. He's hooking his paws and swinging around the slender leafy branch tips in a way that resembles a monkey. He's right at the end of the branch overhanging yard 9 and for a minute we worry that he might fall in. Fortunately, he settles down and reclaims his branch. Geoff says this sort of thing would go on if they were in the wild, where there would be nothing we could do about it. However, in this situation, Woody is a healthy joey who's been fattening up in the koala Club Med for the last few weeks; they're just waiting till he's big enough to release. Gem, on the other hand, is still in R&R.

Woody's been in that yard for at least as long as I've been working at the hospital so he's obviously king joey in da hood. Plus, he's just lost his posse, with Irwin and Lucky being released and Kimmy being reassigned to yard 9A. I'm determined to let Barb or Judy know so they can think about moving the two bully-boys (Burraneer Henry and Woody) in together and leaving Gem to recuperate in peace.

The shift hasn't even really begun and already there's been so much excitement. I start off in yard 9 with Yasmin. I wake Bonny Fire and try to feed her. Unfortunately she's facing towards Birthday Girl who's coming to and looking interested in Bonny's formula. I try to get her to face the other way, towards the tourists but no luck. She keeps stopping her feeding to eat leaf so it takes forever. Yasmin finishes Wiruna Lucky and starts on Birthday Girl. I water the leaf on all the gunyahs then head to the ICU.

Not much needs to be done in there. Cheyne has taken Oxley Westi home for the weekend. An veterinary opthalmologist came in to look at Westi's eyes. Fortunately, he decided that the cream they'd been applying had resulted in some improvement. He recommended continuing with it, but three times a day, which Cheyne said she'd do at home. Westi's unit just needs to be carefully swept. There's a lot of poop on top of the paper. Bellevue Bill also needs to be fed. I ask Erin which she'd rather do; she can't decide.

I go in to feed Bill but he is heartily chewing away at his leaf. I don't want to discourage this as they need to keep their strength up with leaf. I notice that there is a formula pot with his name on it on the window sill. This is obviously from this morning's unsuccessful attempt. I also notice that there is a longish pink thing poking down from his fur. It's his penis! I remember learning on my very first shift that koalas have a freaky bifurcated penis, but this is the first time I've seen one. The top is two-pronged like a serpent's tongue. This warrants some internet investigation, I feel.(What must the Google people think when they get the search query 'koala penis'?).

That night at home, D___ and I are watching 24. I generally ask a lot of rhetorical questions (ie criticisms) during the show, or give a running commentary. Tonight I wonder out loud: "why do they spend so much time on the petty work grievances between the staff in ICU?".

D___ sighs. "It's CTU, not ICU. You have ICU at the koala hospital."

Oh, yeah.

I'm accused of having 'koala brain'. Maybe I won't do back-to-back shifts again.

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

The girls of yard 9

My archaic waitressing skills come in handy as I juggle two feeding pots, syringes and face-washers and go to pick up a third.

Bonny Fire
From koalawrangler's gallery.

It's the Sunday arvo shift again and I turn up at about a quarter past 2. Walking in, I can see the back of Ros's head bobbing about out by the clothesline. There are a few tourists littered around the courtyard outside the shop awaiting the 3pm feed.

I walk into the day-room and can hear Joyce's voice issuing from somewhere down in ICU. I look around at the boards and see two new names -- "Tasman Rose", a female, and "Sandfly Jye", a male.

Joyce says I can go and help Ros with the laundry. I start to fold the towels but Ros tells me it's best to leave those for for another lady who's due to come in who doesn't like doing anything that takes her near the koalas. She just folds towels and wets the leaf. I told Ros that for me it's all about the koalas. I endure the grunt work just so I can be near them.

Belah Irwin
From Broken Puzzle's gallery.

Ros takes me into ICU to show me Belah Irwin (named after Steve), one of the joeys from yard 6 who is scheduled for release. Irwin's mother, Belah Frankie, had had to be euthanased so Irwin spent a few weeks with Joyce in home-care. They're keeping him in ICU so that they can monitor him before his release; if he's kept in yard 6 it may be another six weeks before they get him down; the joeys come and go as they please. With Ocean Kim in yard 9a, only two joeys in yard 6 remain.

Lorna arrives but she's happy to head home and back to a book. "One you're writing or reading?", I wittily inquire. This is of course a private joke between me, myself and I (the struggling writer). Still, they think it's amusing. Lorna offers to feed Kempsey Carolina before she leaves to lighten the load a little.

I flick through the day-book and see that several of the koalas I've tended have now been freed: Newport Bridge Gloria, Ellenborough Kelly and O'Briens Fiona. The first two were in the aviaries for a while, and Fiona was in ICU where she used to try out her Houdini act with the door before she was released to an outside yard. It's satisfying when they go free.

Joyce has finished preparing food for the outside yards. There's Innes Wonga on her own in yard 2 and the four girls in yard 9: Ocean Therese, Wiruna Lucky, Bonny Fire and Birthday Girl. Ros takes Innes Wonga, so Joyce and I set off to yard 9. My archaic waitressing skills come in handy as I juggle two feeding pots, syringes and face-washers and go to pick up a third. Joyce won't let me as she thinks I'll drop them. I bow to Joyce's greater wisdom on this matter.

I haven't had much to do with the girls in yard 9; they are like the hospital's national treasures. Now that I know that koalas can be kept in captivity only by exception, I see why these old girls are so precious.


Wiruna Lucky
From koalawrangler's gallery.
I'm the first to enter the yard and all the girls are still fast asleep. Wiruna Lucky strikes a particularly amusing pose. I place the food and washers on the rack and head off to investigate which sleeping koala is Bonny Fire. I'm told that she has pink on her nose and is smaller than Birthday Girl. Bonny slowly comes to -- all these girls are seasoned feeders and know what's coming. There's no swiping or eeping to worry about.

Bonny Fire
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I stand on the highest part of the turf-green platform where I can reach her best and proceed to squirt the syringe into her mouth. It's strangely intimate being that close to her furry face, watching her little front teeth protrude from time to time. You can concentrate on the details of the animal; the brown eyes, the pink speckles on a black nose; the deformity in the claws from the fire she was rescued from. In my mind's eye I alway saw koala's faces as being flat but their jaw actually protrudes outwards in a prominent fashion. Maybe it's the squat lozenge-shaped nose that gives their faces the illusion of flatness.

Bonny Fire, as her name suggests was rescued from a bush fire. With the adult koalas, the males and females are kept separate except that one of the male patients made a covert visit into yard 9 and knocked Bonny up. The resulting bairn was called Bonny Ash, a local competition being carried out to pick a name that would suit this renegade newcomer. She has since been released back into the wild but is frequently adopted in the adopt-a-wild-koala program.

Jules the tour guide is holding court over near yard 9A where the joeys Ocean Kim and Links VTR are now living. They are more of a drawcard than the older girls, especially since dear Cloud has passed away. Birthday Girl is buried deep in her leaf but starts to reach for me once she sees I have food. She feeds through the fork of her gunyah which is useful since it prevents her from clawing me as she clutches for more formula. I'm just getting to the last syringe-ful as Jules realises there's a feed he could be showcasing. I carry on watering her leaf and then head back to the dayroom.

Ros and Joyce are in with Oxley Westi, the tiny koala with the bulging eyes. Both her eyes must have ointment smeared in them morning and night. According to the board, her eyes are listed as "exopthalmous", but this is merely a high-falutin' description, not a diagnosis. They don't know what causes it. I peer into the unit and both Joyce and Ros are on the floor with little Westi, treating her eyes.

I go off and fill a watering can with water and grab a spray bottle so that Ros can wet the leaf and refill the pots quickly and get out of there. The less disruption to the already strung-out koala, the better. When they're done, Joyce emerges with a trickle of blood running down her calf, courtesy of Ms Westi.

Tractive Golfer
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Tractive Golfer, the long-term incumbent of yard 10, is actually down from his tree so Ros heads off to feed him. Ellenborough Kelly and Macquarie Peter (with whom I have a history) both need feeding so I check with Joyce that it's okay to head off there with their pots of formula.

Jules is delighted that the group will get a front-row seat at Peter's feeding. His yard fronts on to the walking path that the tourists tramp along. He's sitting facing forwrd with his slightly rounded belly and huge furry testicles protruding for all to see. Jules has a running joke about how you can tell whether a koala is male of female. Their ears are tagged: left for males; right for females -- because females are "always right". Boom boom. Of course, you can tell quite clearly that this one is a male; his manly accoutrements are hanging out for all to see.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to feed Peter who's not in any hurry to move into a better position for me to do so. I don't want to do it behind the fork as this will obscure the tourists' view. The more they see, the more they are likely to donate money and adopt, which is what keeps the hospital afloat. I finally work out a way of ducking under the fork and feeding him from the front so as not to affect people's photo opportunities. Peter doesn't make it easy as he pauses between syringes to take mouthfuls of leaf. An American voice remarks that he must like salad with his meal.

Ros is feeding Ellenborough Nancy and finishes watering her, Golfer and Links Lorna. We head back to the staff-room and start on ICU. Joyce is mixing up a clear formula for the two new koalas, Tasman Rose and Sandfly Jye. We're not sure what's wrong with them yet as they were only brought in this morning. I've never fed this clear liquid before and can't imagine that it's as enticing as the white milk-like supplement the others get. Joyce says all we can do is try to feed them and see how they go.

I try Sandfly Jye, the male, first. I'm wary of his striking out, so I take it easy, by dragging up a small stool, but not getting too 'in his face'. He lets me come near but grunts when I put the syringe near his mouth and takes off into the leaf for sanctuary. I don't want to push it and risk a swiping. I just water his leaf and leave.

Tasman Rose
From koalawrangler's gallery.

I'm not optimistic of having any better success with Tasman Rose next door, but give it a go. She's a placid little girl and I speak gently to her as I put the syringe to her mouth. She's not exactly against the idea, but doesn't take the tip of the syringe in. She does however make a little lapping noise that suggests she's ingesting some of the liquid that comes near her mouth. I ask Joyce what to do and she says it's better to get some in than none. I spend ten minutes gradually squirting the liquid at Rose's mouth; 95% ends up on the ground or on the koala, while 5% makes it into her mouth. I paper over the slops on the floor.

I go and collect the money boxes scattered around the yards so that the lady in the shop can count up today's takings and head home. Then I start washing up the pots in washing up liquid -- well koalas first, followed by sick, before rinsing them and filling each with weak antibacterial disinfectant.

We're about done when the phone rings. It's a lady in Sapphire Drive, Emerald Downs, who has just seen the neighbour's dog chase a koala across the yard. The koala has taken off up a palm tree in the caller's yard. She thinks it may be a joey since it is small. It's apparent that I've got a koala situation on the phone. I look about frantically for a pen and paper as the lady gives me her details. I find the rescue list; there's one in the shop. Barb's name is at the top and I give her a call.

In hindsight, I realise that I should have offered to go with Barb since you really need two people for a rescue. But who knows, maybe the koala didn't need to be rescued. Still, at the very least, it would need to be relocated to a safe location where it can't get attacked by dogs. I don't know what I would do if our dog ever did anything to a koala.

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

Blinky Pinkie

I end up on my hands and knees, rolling up the newspaper and picking up poop individually with my fingers. Unbelievably I find another THREE ticks in the corner, rolling around fit to burst.

Wiruna Lucky
From koalawrangler's gallery.

Being in Sydney earlier this week has stripped me of my newfound 'green' veneer, so I've been craving a good dose of koala. I've also decided that the scent of fresh eucalyptus, especially the concentrated gamier odour that the ICU emits is one of my favourite smells.

There was a new face in the day-room today -- Damien, one of the uni vets, who must have been away on holidays. He looks about my age. I recognise him from the hospital home page. His blurb says he has completed a doctorate in koala disease.

I'm assigned to work with Anne again today. We've got the aviaries (which Anne comically calls "ovaries") and yard 6, where the joeys are (as apposed to where the wild things are). The joeys are more spread about the yards these days -- Ocean Kim is now sharing yard 9A (the enclosed yard within yard 9) with Links VTR, and Burraneer Henry has been moved to his own yard -- yard 4.

Judy tells me that she's laid out last night's leftover leaf on a rack outside the leaf-shed. It's to be used as today's recycle. Anne and I head off to yard 6. Barb calls from the adjacent yard 9; she is feeding one of the girls. She asks Anne if she'll come in and help with feeding. There are a few tourists about and they are generally more likely to participate in the adopt-a-wild-koala scheme if they see activity from the koalas. Anne used to be a guide so she likes to re-enter the limelight occasionally.

I carry on raking around the joey yard. They are nowhere in sight as usual. We're just the hired help who come in to sweep a bit and restock their food while they swan around the treetops like complacent little monkeys...whom we worship nonetheless.

Barb calls me over so I can feed Wiruna Lucky. She's a big old girl with midriff bulge. As she's feeding, I study her claws which seem to be missing in places. She also lolls her head about as though she's blind, although I'm not sure if that's her affliction. Meanwhile, Barb is telling the tourists about the resident koalas. Apparently, the NSW Parks & Wildlife only permit the hospital to treat and release koalas; they were given special permission to keep some of the koalas permanently. If they're not well enough to be released, they are generally euthanased. It's against the law to keep native animals. She talks about Ocean Therese whom I remember some of the handlers joking about with Cheyne, saying she can never be released. Technically she's got to be, but Barb thinks Therese might be suffering from some sort of brain injury which could influence that outcome.

I return to the joeys and wash out their pots and discard the leaf. Anne already replaced the recycled pot with leftover leaf from the leaf shed. As I finish raking, I find not one but two plump ticks on the ground among the koala droppings. They are similar in size and shape and colour to poo, except that ticks have a glossier purple sheen to them, while poop is more matte. After gorging themselves on koala blood they drop off and wind up lying on their backs like upturned turtles. They are so distended with blood that their legs poke out at odd angles like whiskers. I have the uneviable opportunity of studying them closely in my palm before depositing them in individual phials and killing them with a squirt of ethanol.

The leaf gatherer is nowhere to be seen so we have to break the koala kommandment of starting a new yard before the first is finished. Anne says Oxley Jo has been acting up so she allocates me Ellenborough Nancy. Oh no! I may be projecting but I feel like Nancy really doesn't like me, whereas Oxley Jo is a placid little lamb. Jo's still not eating much nor producing much poop, which bothers me some. Can they force-feed a koala?

Perhaps it's the effect of Nancy's sore eye making her a look a little meaner than the rest, but I'm sure she's going to take a swing at me the first chance she gets. Nancy's aviary is not very wide so it's difficult to give her the wide berth she needs so as not to get too uppity. She's down the left end so I quickly cut free the towel from the right side, all the while watching my back, and replace it with a fresh towel. I decide to use my neverfail method of luring her towards the clean towel with fresh leaf. I cut up a batch from last night's leftovers. Anne says I need to use fresh but I explain my tactic. It works well as I remove the pot from the end I want her to vacate and she moves towards the newly wetted leaf. It's not fresh but it's better than nothing. I realise the other towel is way too long so I head off to the shed for a smaller one. I find a swollen tick near the door and write this one up in the day-room. As I return, I see that Nancy has had her fill of leaf and is returning to the leafless end that I'm yet to re-towel. Gadzooks, my best-laid plans, foiled! I should have laid the longer towel while I had the chance. Note to self...

Meanwhile, Damien is just approaching her aviary to give Nancy some medication. He graciously offers to move Nancy out of the way while I finish tying the new towel. You can tell he's a koala expert by the way that he gently pats her rump to move her along without complaint. Perhaps it's to do with showing your fear. And because I'm rushing to get it done, the string (which is cheap jute) is getting all knotted and all the while he's waiting with a needle in one hand and a koala's butt in the other.

Finally, that part's done and I can get back to cleaning the floor of the unit. It's hard to wield a broom in such a small space and I don't want to disturb her. I end up on my hands and knees, rolling up the newspaper and picking up poop individually with my fingers. Unbelievably I find another THREE ticks in the corner, rolling around fit to burst. Another trip to the day-room. At this rate, Anne has almost finished both Oxley Jo and Oceanview Terry -- a newcomer.

Finally the leaf is done and I can prepare fresh leaf for Nancy. Anne says she'll do the joeys' leaf; I can go and see what's left to be done in ICU.

Oxley Westi
From broken_puzzle's gallery.

Peter says that ICU has mostly been done. The first two units need fresh leaf. I go off to prepare it. For some reason they've decided to limit the units to two pots of fresh leaf and no recycled. Probably for space reasons. It makes it harder to manoeuvre the koalas about, to lure them here and there with new leaf. The first unit contains a newcomer -- Oxley Westi. She's a small koala with bulbous eyes. I feel so sorry for her; her eyes look so uncomfortable. And I have to move her old leaf which means virtually pulling it from her. Outside on her whiteboard it says "pinkie in pouch".

Judy is helping Damien in the treatment room with a bagged koala. I ask who they're working on. Damien says "Tezza". I ask Judy about the pinkie and she clarifies that this means she has an unfurred joey in her pouch. Wow! I wonder if that means she'll stay in the hospital until the joey emerges. I fill up a pot of leaf and carry it awkwardly into the ICU. Cheyne is walking through the corridor and remarks that I look like I'm carrying a wedding bouquet up the aisle. "It's just as I imagine it too", I respond.

Warrego Martin
From koalawrangler's gallery.

To finish the last units we all muck in. Barb is stripping the towels from Warrego Martin's gunyah as I muck out his floor. No lack of poop here. At morning tea, Geoff talks about a fundraising cruise that's coming up. He asks Cheyne about "koala superannuation" -- it's their term for the kind of financial forecasting they're doing for koalas' welfare in the future; not spending everything now, but planning for the koalas in thirty years' time.

Barb retreats to collect a joey she's caring for at home, Siren Gem as Cheyne says they need to give him a jab with some medication. Anne tells us (me and Carole from the shop) about the joey's background. Some people found it and kept it for a few days. In a milk-crate. It was getting weaker so they brought the little joey in after two days. It was quite dehydrated and lacking in energy. It was called Gemma until they determined it was a boy, so now he's "Gem". Barb has been caring for him for a a week or so and he's picked up quite a bit.

When she arrives back at the hospital she carries him in the usual washing basket configuration. Barb leaves the basket on the treatment room floor while Damien sets up a drip device for the next patient. Barb loosens the bicycle clasps on the basket so that the top basket is just sitting loose. I stand in the doorway, waiting till they bring him out.

He's obviously gotten more energy because he manages to poke his head out between the gap in the two baskets, trying to make his escape. I rush forward. Damien says "just push on his forehead" -- I remember Cheyne showing us this technique: it makes them retreat. Barb returns and holds Gem on the treatment table while he gets his jab. It's awful watching the poor little thing flinch as the needle goes in. He tries to turn and climb back into his foster Mum's arms.

Afterwards, Barb pops him back in his basket and gives him a tender bunch of new leaf to munch on. He tucks in; the doctor visit is all but forgotten.

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