Brigitte’s Wildlife Blog
Tales, Musings and Stories of ‘de happenings around us
By BPK
Copyright 2011 BPK
Smashwords Edition
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What caring for Australian wildlife means to me
The Echidna - some interesting facts and trivia
The Wombat - some interesting facts and trivia
Wallabies – interesting facts and trivia
Willow and Marnie – two hand-reared wombats
Being the “Landlord” to lots of critters brings responsibilities and restrictions
Blog # 1 - Reading this will make you itchy – Guaranteed
Blog # 2 - Reading this will make you itchy – Guaranteed
Nemo the Eastern Grey Kangaroo
Kangaroo trivia and interesting facts
The Brush-tailed Phascogale - some interesting facts
Pascal the Eastern Grey Kangaroo
Wedge-tailed Eagles and Magpies
More on Walter the Rainbow Lorikeet
Mums have to think of EVERYTHING !!!!
The Huntsman Spider - some interesting facts and trivia
Why is Pickles called “Pickles” ???
For quite some time now we are part of a rural community, have looked after our wildlife and lived – what some people would describe as “rather isolated”. We don’t think though that we live in a lonely and empty place – just the opposite, there is soooo much happening around us and for some time I’ve been thinking how I could share the joys and observations of all the excitement around us.
Yesterday I watched the 2009 film "Julie & Julia". Pretty cute film about 'Julie' who decided to cook all 524 recipes of Julia Child's 1961 cookbook in 365 days. Heaps of butter involved - a "new" for Julie. Also new for her was blogging her cooking adventure.
And this gave me the idea to try this 'blogging-thing' as well. No - it has absolutely anything to do with cooking. I just cook to feed the family and rather often I talk to the people in the supermarket "... oh and what are you cooking tonight.." (because I have utterly run out of ideas)
This blog is about living with wildlife, the joys, experiences and what it means to us being part of a rural community.
I have currently no idea of how this blogging works - but will try my darndest to find out how I can even add a few pictures of 'the babies', how we raised them and how they are doing in the wild.
Well - let's give it a go .... send ....
Again I am sitting here on the computer getting my head around this blogging thing.
It's getting dark and I brought my little wallaby joey in from her outside-during-the-day enclosure. She is now snug and fast asleep in my vest. As I am only a human "mum" I have to wear a belt around my waist so she does not fall out at the bottom. This system works really well, as it gives them the secure feeling of a tight pouch while I have both hands free to do various household stuff. Mind you I just look rather ridiculous - like a fat pumpkin. And carrying little animals in a vest during summer is rather hot as well. We are now in the middle of winter and she keeps me warm as well.
Her name is Suzie - but she listens to "Imp" and "Wall-ee". She is just adorable, spoiled rotten and immensely cute.
She just pokes her head out of the top of the zipped-up vest and sniffs the keyboard. Sooo cute. Oh - and I detect a bit of a stinky smell, she probably did a few doo-das in the pouch (they do that). I better attend to her digestive needs...
What caring for Australian wildlife means to me - thoughts
For more than 20 years by now I have been human mum for orphaned Australian wildlife and rehabilitator for injured Australian wildlife. Gee whiz - the experience with our native animals has been sooooo amazing, humbling, wonderful, incredible and awesome. They have given me not only fulfilment and satisfaction pursuing my own interests and "fancy" - no, caring for all those animals touched a much deeper level and understanding in the various levels of inter-connectiveness of the Australian landscape.
To be a good "mum" and rehabilitator one has to do quite a bit of research on the special dietary requirements of Australian animals. And I am not only talking kangaroos and wombats here. All and every animal that came into care needed something special.
And while researching their very special needs to thrive and survive in human care I became aware of interaction and links between the animals, landscape, trees, weather conditions etc. and then the impact we as the newcomers had on all that.
Lots of this new knowledge was just uplifting for me - lots though too was rather depressing ....
We got our first joey well over 20 years ago from a neighbour when his dog chased a mob of kangaroos and the roo mum “dropped” the little one out of her pouch. The neighbour found the little man and as we were known in the neighbourhood as some sort of “greenie city-slickers” he popped him into a Hessian-bag and brought the little thing over to us. (We first thought there was a snake in there – at that stage we were a bit wary of the country peoples’ humour !!!)
Willie was a “velvety” – a joey just slightly furred and in nature still pretty much pouch-bound. He was just absolutely adorable, very placid and tolerant – a good thing as my knowledge of raising native animals was next to zilch and the bit I knew was from a very thin booklet, the only learning text available at that time. I still remember my elation when I applied my theoretical knowledge of “toileting” the little joey – and he JUST DID what was described in that paperback.
Willie lived with us for bit more than 9 months and in that time the whole family became absolutely besotted, intrigued, fascinated, enthralled and smitten with him and his kin. But then suddenly he fell terrible ill with something I have not seen ever again in all those years we’ve been looking after our wildlife. He suffered terribly and I finally put him down. It was just devastating for me and for years I could not even look at a picture of a joey without bursting into tears.
Today we took our very old dog for a walk. Rusty is a Kelpie and 12 years old. Gee the poor mutt had health issues right from the beginning. Now he is even allergic to grass - not very good when one lives on a farm with grassland all around.
We love the Kelpie breed. They are so very good with wildlife. I am not that much of a dog person but I believe that Kelpies are bred to fulfil three very important tasks on a farm.
1: to bark and startle/move sheep
2: to use their body to move the sheep into a certain direction
3: stare and use their eyes and detect any strays wandering off - and protect I suppose
They also nip your ankle if something dis-pleases them (like when the walk is not long enough). Pretty funny if that happens to somebody else - like your own mother. Hahaha I remember when my mum and dad visited us and we all went for a walk with our previous dog. Good old Bruce really tried hard to keep us all together. And when we occasionally were too far apart he sure tried to herd us together again. Hilarious
During late winter and early spring every bird around our place is engaged in all sorts of mating and woo-ing rituals. While most of them only burst into glorious songs or wag tails, fluff feathers or zoom-and-zip fiercely everywhere to fight off rivals or just to collect things – there are some birds that are going through rather extreme efforts to impress ‘de girls.
Since approximately 22 years this Grey Heron male in full marriage plumage struts in front of our windows, pecks and squawks and kicks the glass while his partner watches his every move admiringly. My visiting parents at that long time ago named them “Paul and Paulinchen” but as this is quite a mouthful we shortened it to “Paul and Paula”.
We have no idea if today’s Paul and Paula are the same birds that “did their stuff” all those years ago – probably not.
We also had this raven with a fascination of glass. “Charlie” used to come every morning at the crack of dawn and kick and SPIT at every window around the house. There was bird spittle everywhere up to one meter high on the outside.
I used to be a wildlife emergency phone operator and I got heaps of phone calls asking for advice for those situations. And of course I had stacks of helpful hints like tea towels, paper or string attached strategically all over the place – nowadays I would just say “live with it” and/or give advise on window cleaning products.
Throughout spring we get a lot of baby birds in. Mostly magpie babies. The little fledglings are pretty stupid in regards to cars etc and just sit there and get killed. It is terribly heart-breaking to drive at baby-bird-season and see all those flattened magpies on the road.
My record one year was 12 magpie babies in care. During the day they were in an outside enclosure to get sunshine and their dose of Vit D and in the evening I placed those fluffballs onto a tray to carry inside as the nights could be still too cold for them to spend in the open.
One of those many magpies we raised was just that tiny bit more special. “Charlie” sat with the kids at the table when they were doing their home work. And when she got a bit bored picked pencils out of their pencil case, trotted to the edge of the table – and dropped the pencil onto the ground. Yep and stared down and watched it fall over the edge.
Needless to say that the kids picked up the pencil, put it back into the pencil case – Charlie picked out the pencil again …. dropped it …. kids picked up …. etc etc.
And one sunny day we placed her onto the outside table to get sunshine and maybe attempt to fly a bit. But Charlie just fell to her side – and just laid there. Not moving. Our whole family panicked and thought the bird just had died.
But all Charlie did was copy our old dog who slept on his side next to the table in the warm spring sunshine.
Today I released a juvenile kookaburra. He had thundered into the windscreen of the neighbour’s car and was stunned, concussed and could not fly. We call most of our kookaburras “Snapper” – that is the sound their powerful beak makes when you try to force-feed them and they just SNAP at you.
The first few days the kookas are in care are just terrible. They glare at you when you take them out of the cage to feed them – beak open and posture threatening. And then the beak SNAPS shut. Really snaps shut and then one has to pry it open one-handedly with this un-cooperative bird under one arm and this yucky limp dead mouse in the other hand. And no matter how deep you stuff this yummie morsel into their throat they always spew it up again.…. brrrrr …..
Our local kookaburras are fabulous in helping me raising the little ones. I swear two hours (at the most !!!!) after I get a new kooka into care they are here to check-out the newcomer. And they do feed the little orphaned fledglings through the wire of the enclosure. I am actually rather proud of the perch-feeding-viewing-and-adopting system I have mounted at the aviary. My idea behind this is that me feeding ox heart strips to the wild ones keeps their interest here (plus probably makes them feel more generous towards the orphan as there is heaps of food around). Well it sure has worked all the time so far to persuade the wild ones to adopt and raise the little ones.
And today was not different – the newcomer was greeted with this very LOUD unique kookaburra yodel of the 5 wild ones - and then 6 kookaburras flew into the forest.
Well – I better defrost a few of them mousies and cut up more ox heart strips for tomorrow ….
It's early August 2011 and we had a few absolutely gorgeous spring days. Mind you - in 2 days a winter blast will return. In winter all our released joeys shelter and graze in the valleys, away from those icy winds. But in the last few days all of "our" kangaroos appeared and grazed close to the house. Oh it was sooo great to see Tinkerbell, Pascall and Pickles with pretty big joeys in their pouches. And the little ones came out and did their cute, adorable unsteady hops. Looks like they are all girl joeys this time.
Kangaroo mums are incredible. They can actually determine the sex of their offspring. If they are young they are more likely to have girls as they can teach them for a very long time. Once the roos are older they most likely have boys. When times are tough for the kangaroos the female can put the developing joey in her pouch "on hold". And if the foetus is still in her womb she is ably to absorb it back into her system. Amazing.
Male roos leave the mob (group of animals) and form their own bachelor mob. They have this hierarchy and the boys keep on fighting from early age to eventually determine who will be the Alpha Male - the top boss. Only the Alpha mates with the girls so only the best genes are passed on.
Oh wow - I just heard a koala outside not far from the house. Of course I took the torch and had a look if I could spot the little man. It sure was a boy judging by these incredible scary loud grunting bellows. We have planted a few favourite koala food trees so I'll have a look there tomorrow morning. Not that this is a guarantee that they are in those trees - I have seen them in lots of tree species, introduced and native, like in pine trees, casuarinas, as well as on metal support beams in garages and electricity poles.
Over the years I have done quite a few koala rescues. Most of those animals were either hit by cars or were trampled on by cows. Cows sure do HATE koalas, nobody really knows why. And of course with no proper habitat link koalas have to cross paddocks and roads to get to other food trees.
Once I attended an injured koala sitting on the ground. Just like I had done many times before I threw a blanket over the animal and quickly grabbed him from the back under his arms to place him into a cage. What I did not realise was that the poor thing had most of his ribs broken. And of course when I grabbed him the animal lashed back with his claws in absolute agony and got me thoroughly on the back of my hand.
I am fine and my injury healed nicely. The poor koala however had to be put down by the vet. The internal injuries were just too severe. Poor little man …
No, I did not find any koalas. It was actually rather difficult trotting through the dewy grass – all our released roos and wallabies seemed to be in the area and I did not want to disturb them. Lots of them have rather big joeys in pouch and hopping seems rather awkward for the mums. It sure does look not very comfy. Some of the joeys are pretty big.
Oh it is adorable to watch the little ones hop. The first time they come out of the pouch they really have NO idea what to do with those lanky skinny legs. They most of the time just hop up and down on the spot – funnyyyyyyy!!!! And it doesn’t matter if it is kangaroo mum’s pouch or the cushion covers I (the human mum) use – when startled they little ones are back into safety head first. Funnyyyyyyy and CUTE as well.
Oh man do we laugh at their first attempts of hopping. But the joeys’ determination, their single-minded purpose to master distance, their joy and delight of developing speed and co-ordination and the sheer happiness of living touches something deep in my heart. And despite having seen this heaps of times – seeing it again and again is a privilege and honour. Pretty hard to describe one’s feeling - it’s goose-bumpy stuff …
Gee I hear suddenly lots of koalas grunting and bellowing out there. Well spring is coming and ‘de boys are probably looking for ‘de girls and make sure that those other males understand territory borders. Of course I can’t go to sleep even though it is past midnight. Might as well write another blog. How about some interesting Koala facts and trivia:
Koala is a Koori word and means “No Drink”
The closest relative to the koala is the wombat. Both have backwards facing pouches. That is great for the wombat joey as it does not get dirty when mum is digging. But the koala mum has to have strong pouch muscles so that the joey does not fall out
Koalas are not “drunk” but they have a low energy lifestyle due to their low energy food
Early this century koalas were hunted for their skin and over 2 million koalas were killed. To make sure that the species survives, 18 animals from Victoria were brought to Kangaroo Island in 1920
There are koala habitats all over the Shire of Macedon Ranges
A big threat to koala survival are habitat fragmentation and a sickness called Chlamydia. Other threats are foxes, cars and domestic dogs
One of our many charges was an echidna (the Australian version of an hedgehog) - “Prickles The Fifth”. Prickles got hit by a car, but was VERY lucky to only get his snozzle broken. According to the vet it depends on what angle and direction the break is - a "favourable" injury/break is basically the difference between life and euthanasia. Well - the x-rays showed that Prickles was lucky. With proper care this break would heal eventually so he could poke his long snout again into the soil and lap up those yummie ants.
Ok. The echidna came home with me. In a cage. Now what ???? How would I house him ??? Echidnas are notorious escape artists. Once they get even ONE claw onto a rim of where-ever-they-are-in, yeah !!! they are OUT. We decided to put him into our bathtub. It’s a rather fancy deep tub we had installed well before our drought. And once I became aware of our water issues it had not been used for a very long time. It just now sits prettily in the corner of the bathroom – and of course was ideal for Prickles.
I lined it with newspaper and old rags for his doo-dahs to be easily replaced and he had a cardboard box to hide in. Clever me had cut it up so even if he climbed on top the box would collapse and Prickles the Houdini would not be able to reach the rim.
His dietary requirements were well researched and we happily sat down knowing that Prickles The Fifth would eventually heal and be released.
However we forgot that the tub he was in was right next to our bedroom …..
Prickles was a rather noisy patient for the first week. His breathing through his broken beak was this puffing sound mixed with the gurgling and popping of saliva bubbles. They do also huff and puff when they are out in the wild normally – but obviously it was pretty hard for him due to the injury.
And of course he was scared and bewildered and had no idea why he was is this whitish canyon with sheer slippery walls and could not get out. He woke us up quite often in this first week and we listened miserably to these heart-breaking sounds and the desperate attempts to dig through the layer of forest litter that lined the bottom of the tub. But eventually Prickles resigned to the fact that he was trapped and calmed down.
He just LOVED his echidna glug (a Healesville Sanctuary recipe) and licked every morsel out of the dish. And to our delight we found out that he slept on his side, his front paws tucked under his chin. It looked absolutely adorable and quite often we tip-toed into the bathroom just to watch him sleep. We had no idea that echidnas sleep on their side.
And after 6 weeks in the bathtub the vet declared Prickles to be fit to go into the outside enclosure for 2 weeks or so. I had prepared the enclosure with bits of old meat and drops of honey to attract ants. We needed to know if he still could poke his snozz into the ground to find food. Oh did he what !!! He not only did and could poke – no he also actually frolicked. Yes the echidna ran up and down this enclosure, moved boulders and logs, rolled onto his side, moved the log again, moved the boulder again – it was pretty much a WOW experience to watch him play. And when Prickles was eventually released out of this enclosure the first thing he did was come briefly to the house as if to say ‘thank you’.
The Echidna - some interesting facts and trivia
An echidna baby is called “Puggle”
When it is cold they go into ‘torpor’ which is a kind of hibernation
Their food are ants and termites
Some people say that the echidna is as smart as a cat
Just like the platypus they have spurs – but the echidna’s spur is not venomous
Mating season is July to September – that is when lots of males follow a single female – that is called “echidna train”
Echidnas live close to 45 years
Echidnas can swim
Echidnas are monotremes which means they are mammals that lay eggs like reptiles and birds
Cats, dogs and foxes as well as loss of habitat are the biggest threat to the echidna
Phew – just finished giving Suzie (our wannaby wallaby) her milky. My my my - are those little guys insistent. I swear they have an in-built clock !!! It’s 5.30 pm and they want their milk. At 5.15 pm they are content to be snug in their pillow-case-pouch, but suddenly they get restless, struggle, get out and become DEMANDING. And they don’t take any of “sorry-honey-mumsey-is-cooking-dinner” as an answer. They want their milky NOW. Right now. Full stop.
And they are all over you in the kitchen waiting for the microwave ‘ping’ to heat the bottle, clawing at your legs. It’s cute in winter when one wears long pants – but in summer they leave all those scratch marks on your lower legs.
Their bliss once they start to suckle is pretty unbelievable. In the beginning the joeys are all tense, they shiver and literally vibrate and their little front-paws grasp and scratch and clutch and hang onto the bottle for dear life.
And as the bottle slowly empties their eyes glaze over, they relax and the previous frantic suckling slows down to a leisurely tz-tz-tz-tz-tz-tz-tz. And then they “purr”. They do those tiny whistling sounds, or this high-pitched breathing, or that minute little moaning sigh, or even a slight soft deep gurgle sighing or little grunting puffs.
Gee I love these joeys …
It’s spring soon – and it’s time to prepare nests for the next generation eggs. All the birds around our place are currently real little busy-bodies dragging together sticks, bark, twigs, leaves, feathers and all sort of other material. And the end result of their efforts can be anything from this coarse looking basic platform constructed with a couple of branches to a finely woven dangling egg-shaped delicate container.
Watching their efforts is a lot of fun. Some of the LB’s (Little Birds) want to line their nest with soft material and they decide that the loosening winter-coat of our kangaroos or our dog is just the right material. And so when the roo or the dog is having their snooze in the balmy spring sun they flutter onto their backs – and start pulling out hair.
Most of the time the roos or the dog just keep on sleeping and only twitch and ripple a bit the skin around that area where the bird is pecking. But sometimes those tiny 5 gram nest-builders must pull on a still attached hair – and that hurts !!!!
Of course it startles the kangaroo or the sleeping dog - and so they jump up. Sleepy, but they still jump up. And that startles the little birdie and they flutter off. But the bird won’t give up and waits till the dog or the kangaroo settles again – then they descend again and pull out more of the winter hair from the sleeping kangaroo or sleeping dog.
And during our autumn and winter storms when trees fall over or branches snap off we often find nests on the ground and poke our fingers into the opening – it’s a fascinating feeling of understanding the habitat and raising of the little nestlings.
When we bought our place emu farming was the “in-thing” to do. No – we never farmed emus – we only had two pet emus which we picked up really cheap after the emu market collapsed. Kuna the boy and Karta the girl (named after Aboriginal words “to kick” and “black”). They were just adorable little things and they followed us everywhere and snuggled close to the kids when they got sleepy.
Kuna and Karta had this weird love/hate relationship with our dog and they used to chase each other. Good ol’ Bruce the Kelpie tried regularly to bite into their bum feathers and then ran off into the distance with Kuna and Karta in hot pursuit trying to kick him. Or the two emus stalked the sleeping dog and nipped his collar or his ears and then ran off with the dog going full pelt after them trying to bite into their bum feathers. It was incredibly entertaining to watch.
Their “nipping” became a bit of a nuisance once they grew a bit higher and could reach OUR ears and ear-rings. The emus were just fascinated with clanging bracelets, moles on necks or legs, rings, newspaper – basically ANYTHING they had not seen before plus ANYTHING they had seen and were still fascinated by it.
We had at one stage quite a few trades people at our place. Kuna fancied all those little pink and blue connection bits out of the electrician’s toolkit and ate most of them before the guy quickly shut the box. And Karta just adored the painter and stayed close to him watching him dip the brush into the tin – then apply the paint to the wall – dip the brush – paint. And of course she dipped her head into the tin as well but as the paint must have tasted awful shook her head and flung globs of paint all over the painter. By the time we were mixing concrete we had built a barricade to protect us from those nosy birds.
Kuna and Karta were rather social birds and loved to hang out with us and to accompany us into the paddock either when we were planting trees or hitting a few golf balls. Once we had friends over for a fun “Golf Tournament” and the emus got extremely excited and kept chasing the balls and were running away with them. Of course we ran after them (it was a rather tight score) and Kuna dropped the ball – and the ball rolled into the hole !!!! I swear that is true !!!!
We had arguments for years after that if that counted or not till one day on the ABC there was this golf person as a guest on the morning program. So I rang the station and inquired about such a situation. I think they thought me some sort of a nutter – but anyway the answer was “YES” it’s a valid hit/drop just like the ball would bounce off a tree and it counts.
And the emus just LOVED to play in the water. We have this pond next to the house and they used to walk in, plunge down, roll sideways, get up and shake themselves and become excited and chase the dog. And once our daughter had her friend Julia over and both girls spent most of the time in the spa. The emus sat next to them on the rim and waved their chest in the warm water – and yes, you guessed it – eventually jumped in and joined the girls in the spa.
Kuna and Karta could roam our property all day long but at night or when we were away we locked them up in this rather big enclosure. All seemed well – but then they started to grow up and mature. Kuna started to strut with his chest feathers all puffed up and his neck rather tense in a question mark position. He also made this deep boom-boom-boom sound with that air sack at the chest.
By the way it is just beautifully warm when you put your hands in-between the emu feathers close to the skin.
Over time Kuna and Karta got more and more restless and not only roamed our place – but got over the fence to the neighbours. I can’t remember how often we had to jump into the car, drive to the neighbour and then herd them on foot back to our place. And to keep up their interest in accompanying us we snapped twigs, rattled bushes, clanked rocks and pebbles – but we also had to be careful not to excite them too much. They then would throw back their heads and start running. Forward was good – back to the neighbours was not.
And then one day Karta started to lay eggs; I still have her first egg, a lot smaller than the rest. As my license allowed us to have 10 emus (which I REALLY did not want) my husband persuaded me to let Kuna sit on them. And he sat on them devotedly without eating for weeks till one day two little chicks hatched. Kuna just did not know what they were and trampled them. And all the following years we removed the eggs, blew them out and ate them.
The first time we blew out the eggs we drilled by hand two holes at the top and bottom – then pressed our lips to one end and BLEW. After the fourth egg the whole family had serious aches in the cheek muscles and we used our power drill and the tyre pump to empty the eggs. Worked like a dream.
Kuna really did not like that I removed his “children” and started to become rather aggressive towards me – not just in egg-laying season but throughout the year. Whenever I came close to the enclosure he charged towards the fence and trampled furiously and displayed all sort of hostile behaviour. Never though with the rest of the family, Kuna continued to be gentle and affectionate with them.
Often we kept wondering why Karta was out of the enclosure till one day I observed incredible ‘emu-domestic-violence’ where Kuna chased Karta and she in absolute panic just ran up and over the 2 meter high fence. She stayed close to us till Kuna eventually snapped out of his aggression. And I still believe the reason why the girls leave is not that they desert the males and the eggs and “wink-wink” meet up with other boys. They simply get chased away.
Looking after our wildlife is very rewarding, satisfying, enjoyable and once our charges flutter, hop or scurry off it leaves you with this happy fluffy feeling in your tummy. But it is not always like that.
Wildlife comes into human care because they had some sort of traumatic emergency encounter. The vet stitch and bandage them up and then they have to spend time with us. Or they become orphaned under equally shocking and distressing circumstances. Lots of them die while in our care.
Us wildlifers don’t say that an animal has ‘died’. We say “lost”. Not sure why but somehow the ‘d-word’ is more brutal and we sure don’t need that.
Years ago I lost 4 joeys in one night. Two of mine and two of their wild mates, offspring of our released and grown-up joeys. We called them the mini-mob as they always hung-out together grazing and play-fighting.
Our two still came every morning for their milk and when they did not show up one day I worried. After searching for them I found their decapitated bodies. Something had killed all four of them for joy. A thrill kill - not even for food which I could have eventually accepted.
I remember that I just turned and walked away. And few days later when anger and needing revenge replaced the shock I took plaster casts of the footprints and sent them to Werribee zoo for ID. Apparently it was some huge dog with very big paws.
Abby and Heidi the kangaroo mums and I grieved together. They stayed close to me and the house for weeks and eventually continued with their lives.
But I can neither forgive nor forget though and still stare at every dog’s paws to get an idea what sort of mongrel could do that – and what type of people would breed these killers.
We have lots and lots of birds around the house. Little birds, medium size birds, large and HUGE ones. They chirp and twitter, squabble and fight over food, territory and goodness knows what else. We don’t feed them at all but still they must regard our place as some sort of “prime real estate” which has to be carefully guarded and must be fiercely defended.
I am not quite certain what they think of us – but they certainly watch my every move when I am in the veggie garden or hanging up the washing (they love to pick the fluff bits from the towels). And some of them actually follow me when I go for a walk in the forest and even visit me in the laundry.
Somehow we never got around to properly identify all of them and the more unusual ones are either LB’s (Little Birds) or BB’s (Bigger Birds). They pleasantly chirp, sing, twitter, peep and tweet throughout the day and it is just gorgeous to listen to. But they have attitude as well. I have witnessed quite often those tiny morsels intimidating my kangaroo and wallaby joeys with fierce singing and seriously fluffed up feathers.
One day the bird sounds were so unusual that I left the house to check what was going on. And sure enough there was a snake slithering through the bushes and all the various LB’s were united and seemed to be shrieking “snake-snake-snake-danger-danger-danger”.
I can’t really describe those “danger-danger” sounds but I have heard them several times now. And yes – every time there was a snake nearby.
We got our first wombat several years ago from another wildlife shelter that raised him from a tiny orphan till they could not properly accommodate him anymore. Of course we were keen to take him on – wombats are incredible cute creatures with HUGE personality and most wildlifers crave to raise one and refuse to share.
So Waldo arrived at our house. He was slightly bigger than an “Aussie football” and his weight was around 6 or 7 kilos.
We got a demonstration how to toilet wombats and the advice to keep him close so that we would bond properly and what they like to eat. Great – we took it all in.
We were soooooo exited and had already lovingly set-up the bathroom next to our bedroom so that we were close to our new responsibility, could listen to any distress calls and of course bond with the wombat.
What we were NOT told however that wombats like “to bond” around 2 am. That’s when Waldo woke up and decided to explore his new surroundings and wanted to play with his new parents. He charged out of the bathroom, thundered deliberately several times into the mattress, tried to rip chunks out of our doona and attempted to jump onto the bed.
When we put him back into the bathroom and closed the sliding door, Waldo started to “dig out”. We listened to his scratching and bumping and ramming the door for a bit till he finally figured out that the obstacle opened sideways. Needless to say that first night was rather challenging for us.
And there were even more challenges ahead …
Raising Waldo and “doing-the-right-thing” for him became increasingly difficult. For example when we took him for walks through the forest to show him his future territory and make him familiar with yummie edible bits of plants, grasses and other vegetation he always got soooo exited and playful and never paid ANY attention what-so-ever to the goodies out there – instead he totally concentrated on our legs and feet and where best he could wallop his teeth in. He never broke the skin but I had large painful bruises all over my lower legs. Eventually “Wombat-Jenny”, another wildlife friend of ours showed us these dance like step-lift-move-jump-and-turn leg movements to avoid Waldo’s playful attacks on our shinbone.
Waldo grew (and so did his teeth) and after a few months the family wore gumboots stuffed back and front with soccer and hockey shin-protectors. But all Waldo did was to learn to jump higher.
And housing him was another nightmare as wombats are fabulous diggers and nothing what we provided him with seemed to work. Eventually I got so stressed that I decided that Waldo had to go and found him another wildlife shelter nearby who had successfully raised and released several wombats and seemed to have the perfect set-up and experience.
The family was deeply upset about my decision to pass Waldo on but being the “official” license holder I put my foot down and Waldo left. And I was relieved and thought my problems were over ….
Apparently Waldo was doing really well at his new home and after a year or so was fully integrated into the wild – for 6 months. That’s when he decided “been there - done that” and moved back into the house of his human parents.
I can imagine that they were not pleased at all as by that time Waldo was this nearly fully grown animal. The last I heard was that they persevered with their efforts to integrate him back into the wild and eventually succeeded.
Another year or so later we were contacted by a wildlife rescuer if we could for a few days temporarily house this adult male wombat she had picked up and called Reginald until she had prepared an enclosure at her place and properly assess him there. Apparently Reginald had moved into a small town and chased and frightened a woman so much that she spent several hours on top of her car trailer till her husband came home and rang the wildlife rescue people.
Yep you guessed it: Reginald was Waldo and he sure recognised our place alright even though it must have been around three years ago when he left us.
Reginald/Waldo was eventually declared “un-releasable” and is now at this wildlife education center where he gets all the human contact he wants.
The Wombat - some interesting facts and trivia
Wombats are the “smartest” of our marsupials. They are also very stubborn
Wombats are also called “Bulldozers of the Bush”
Wombat burrows can be up to 30 meters long
When a wombat gets attacked in their burrow they can crush the intruder against the ceiling of the burrow with their powerful back
The early settlers and scientists compared the wombat with the American badger
The oldest recorded wombat lived for over 30 years
Wombat teeth have no roots and keep on growing throughout their lifes
Wombat pouches face backwards just like the koala’s pouch. The koala is their closest relative
The main threat to wombats are car accidents, domestic dogs, habitat fragmentation, death by ‘mange’ – a mite introduced and spread by foxes
If a wombat is walking around during the day and has scabby and patchy fur – the animals might have mange. It is best to contact wildlife rescuers so that they can assess the animal
This blog has absolutely nothing to do with wildlife – but then I wrote “…. and tales of happenings …” in the title, didn’t I ?!?!? On the other hand though lots of times swallows, possums and bats come down the chimney (accidentally and on purpose) and roam and flutter through the house.
We hosted an election party at the last federal election for our friends – a motley group of people from all over the scale of political beliefs and it’s always lots of fun (and yes, surprisingly we are still friends afterwards). Counting of all the ballot papers started in the evening when it was freezing here and of course our fireplace was going full blast. Things hotted up on TV with a looming nail-biting hung parliament and things got even hotter in the fireplace. We started to suspect that something was seriously wrong when smoke started to ooze out behind the fridge – 5 meters away from the fireplace. And after the fire started roaring ominously and huge chunks of burning black stuff got catapulted out of the chimney we decided to investigate further and eventually do something like getting the garden hose ready.
It is still a total mystery to all of us that nobody fell off the roof and the house did not burn down that night. Not only had we consumed a considerable amount of prime aged red and crisp white wine – we also found out later that the fire was not in the actual flue but within the brick casing. The chimney sweep whom we consulted afterwards reckoned he had NEVER EVER seen something like this and was surprised that the besser bricks had not exploded.
After things had cooled down (literally) we knocked this HUGE hole into the wall and found out that the pieces of the chimney flue were not connected at all and gunk from 25-years-or so accumulated within the wall cavity – just waiting for that memorable night to ignite.
Yesterday morning I saw a fox meandering across the paddock. I do have a problem with foxes in Australia, they just don’t belong here. Mind you – if I was living in England or back in Germany or anywhere else in Europe or America where foxes belong I would be fiercely protecting them as this “fox hunt sport” is just absolutely abhorrent and disgusting in my opinion.
Years ago when we still had sheep on our place I saw a fox standing next to a newly born lamb. And we made eye contact – and I saw what he was thinking “… if I can’t have it YOU cannot have it either …”. The fox turned his head … and ripped-out the little lamb’s throat and ran off ….. And we also lost a few chickens when a fox took them in broad daylight.
Still I have some sort of affinity with foxes and I kind of like them (everywhere else in the world but not here in Australia. If I would be an American Indian I would probably believe that my totem is a fox).
Once I woke up very early in the morning after I had a weird dream about foxes. I made myself a cuppa – and what did I see right next to the front door under one of our chairs where we used to sit and enjoy the evenings ??? Yep a fox. I could hardly believe what I saw !!!!
But just before I “did it” the fox looked up at me and just … waited. He had sunken dried eyes, his fur was matted, he was skinny and in obvious pain – and he had come to his enemy to be put out of his suffering.
It’s spring and it’s Magpie swooping season. For over 20 years the local maggies and us have lived in perfect harmony – but 2 years ago something just SNAPPED in their bird-brain and they started swooping.
Even though they are “only” birds and lots smaller than us it is scary. There we are outside minding our own little business when SUDDENLY there is this ‘swoosh-flutter-snap-the-beak’ just inches away from the top of our heads.
The first time it happened to the kids and the husband I told them “to wear a hat and don’t go near the nest”. Yeah sure – they swooped us MILES away from the nest and actually followed us far into the paddock.
A friend of mine told me that it’s because we released koalas recently and that magpies don’t like koalas because koalas knock down nests and that the birds are somehow blaming us. I am not so sure about this – apparently heaps of people in the city are getting swooped and hurt by magpies and I don’t think that anybody in suburbia has released a koala recently.
Well in the meantime whenever I am outside I am wearing this floppy hat with bobbing pink butterflies on long thin wire attached to it. Sure I look like a dork – but it works.
Once we were privileged to witness a very special moment – Sophie our released wallaby giving birth. Joeys are born as tiny jellybean foetuses, totally underdeveloped with only teeny wincey minuscule forearms. One would not even recognise them as a future wallaby (or kangaroo). But somehow these tiny little things make it from the birth canal to the pouch where they continue their development.
Sophie had been released some time ago and only occasionally visited us to demand her little bit of apple. That morning she did a seemingly normal rare visit to our backyard – except her behaviour was … well … sort of different. She hopped under the feeding shelter we have there – moved next to some bushes – turned in circles – moved again to some other bushes.
And then she “sat down” on her butt so that her long tail pointed forward between her front legs. And her whole body started heaving – strange sort of wavy movements. And when she started to lick her fur from the bottom up to her pouch we realised that we would witness some miraculous event – the birth of her joey.
Sophie heaved a few more times – and then we saw a little red blob moving upwards from between her legs towards her pouch. And Sophie continued licking the path her future brave little offspring had to master. And this red blob moved up and up and up and eventually disappeared into her pouch. We just stood there, embracing us, watching her.
The whole thing was over in 15 minutes. Did I take any photos ??? No, I totally forgot. It was one of these experiences where one does LIVE the moment and does not need the camera to forever print it into your heart.
Sophie was our first wallaby we raised. Normally us wildlifers try to match species we bring up – but Sophie was the only orphaned wallaby in the area at that time and we sort of had to “more mix than match” her up with Jaffa, an Eastern Grey kangaroo same age. The relationship between roos and wallies is a rather curious one – we believe that roos think that wallies are designed to be pounced and trampled upon. True !!!!
Sophie was quite a character – mind you, ALL wallies are. Plus an incredible first-class high-jumper. Leaping up from the floor onto the dinner table was no problem at all for the little imp. And to mark and show-off where she had been she quite often left us some little souvenirs.
One day I tried to send a fax and the machine jammed. Several attempts later I started to dismantle the stupid bit of equipment – only to find quite a few squashed wally droppings deep within the paper in-tray.
And another time my husband found several wallaby pellets on the keyboard of his laptop. Sure that was funny and we laughed a bit. What we did not realise though was that Sophie also had done half a litre of wee-wee onto the keyboard as well. And consequently the urine dried, became rather smelly and did something deep within the electronics of modern technology - it made the letter “n” very sticky.
At that time he had business dealings with a company whose name contained three “nnn’s” And whenever he typed that company’s name the “n” just got stuck and typed nnnnnnnnnnnnnn. I found it REALLY funny and would have loved to be at the IT department when he took his laptop there to be fixed and tried to explain the smell and the sticky letter “nnnnnnnnnnnnnn”.
Wallabies – interesting facts and trivia
Wallabies (just like the kangaroos and wombats) are also marsupials. As all marsupials are born very tiny with totally under-developed lungs - scientists are researching wallabies to try and understand how we can help human premature babies to survive
Researchers also study wallaby milk to find ingredients that help to improve the chances of premature human babies. Just like the kangaroo mum the wallaby mother can change the ingredients of her milk to give her growing joey the best survival chance.
Wallabies are solitary animals
Kangaroos are grazers and wallabies are browsers. They will try and nibble on nearly everything – apples in your orchard, your roses, garlic and peas
The main threat to the survival of wallabies are foxes, dogs, cars and for the little joeys even cats
And just a few days after I wrote this blog I read in the paper that our Australian scientists have studied the DNA of wallabies from 60 MILLION years ago (!!!!) and are pretty confident to reproduce a gene that might kill those awful superbugs in our hospitals. WOW ….
Willow and Marnie – two hand-reared wombats
Willow Wombat joined our family as a boisterous teenager weighing a whopping 15 kg. Her mother was killed by a car when Willow was a mere 175 gram and she was hand-raised for over 10 month by a human mum. And when we got asked to guide Willow through another lengthy process of teaching her to be wild and independent it seemed a great idea at the time to agree.
Wombats are also called 'bulldozers of the bush', an adult wombat weighs around 40 kg. They are very smart, stubborn, strong, tough, playful and individual characters. In the wild they dig burrows, sharpen their ever-growing teeth on logs and their powerful muscular body just pushes through obstacles - however all these normal traits makes them having in the house a rather challenging experience.
Designing a suitable outside enclosure for Willow was the next challenge. It had to be totally escape-proof; meaning dig-proof, could not have any corners which were potential weak spots and any gate or entrance had to be thoroughly camouflaged. Choice of building material was limited to products which would not injure the animal by damaging claws, teeth or body. The enclosure had to be big enough that Willow would not get bored while in there for a year or so, had to have some sort of set-up for eventual soft release and be predator safe. Plus it had to look good.
Eventually the design took shape: a big oval of corrugated iron dug into the ground 1.2 meters deep and cladded on the outside with natural timber. The artificial burrow would be a concrete pipe which could be opened eventually to the outside. The gate would be unusable as it would have on the inside corrugated iron as well and screwed onto the walls. To enter the enclosure would have to be via an A-frame ladder.
My husband’s careful planning suffered a minor set-back when I organised a local lad with an excavator to dig the trench which ended up so wide and deep that nobody dared to jump over and was called 'The Moat'. Another startling aspect was the size of the future enclosure: 550 square meter.
At last with the help of our son the architectural and construction design was finalised, two trucks delivered various building materials and e-mails and phone calls went out to city and country friends asking for help.
The 'Wombateers' build the enclosure in one action packed, muscle and team building weekend and on Sunday late afternoon Willow was lifted into her new territory where she would stay until her release. It was a very emotional moment for Willow's two human mothers to see her enter a new phase. And a week later Willow got a companion, Marnie. Marnie is also an orphan and roughly the same age. Both are doing really well.
It’s now beginning of March 2011 and the wombie girls have been in their enclosure over 2 years. In those 2 years they not only kept the grass low but also ate approximately:
- 150 kg of chaff
- 1450 kg of sweet potatoes
- 720 kg of carrots
Their release process continues to be a slow one. A year ago we were a bit over-enthusiastic in believing that they would be ready for the wild and opened their enclosure. But the wombats thought different. After we opened the compound we thought they would be sooo happy being free – but oh no. The first thing they did was look for human comfort and company … in the neighbour’s garage 2 km away.
We got the phone call from our frantic neighbour around 10 pm that there was a wombat re-arranging his garage and terrorising the wife (and yes – we could hear her screaming in the background). It took the family and me plus 6 of my wildlife-friends till well into the wee hours of the morning to eventually pounce onto the wombat and drive her home.
Everybody got extremely stressed that night of the Hunt-For-The-Escaped-Wombat. Especially my husband – he gave up on the rescue attempts around midnight as he had some important conference calls very early at 4 am.
Luckily nobody suffered major injuries that night, though the car Willow was brought back in had most of the dashboard chewed and destroyed. We all thought it very funny – however the owner was rather upset as he could not explain this type of damage to the insurance company and hence was not covered.
Over the next months’ and most of 2010 we extended the wombat enclosure and invested in more fencing and solar paneled electric wiring (pig strength). We watched the wombats digging a burrow in the forest and picked them up twice more out of the neighbour’s garage.
As word had spread amongst the wildlife community that we have this awesome wombat enclosure we recently were asked to house Baxter, another ditzy and imprinted, confused and injured, hand-reared orphaned wombat boy of the same age as Willow and Marnie.
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