On iconic Australian wildlife ...

... and what to do if you come across an injured animal.

It's a horrible feeling to run over one of Australia's higher profile, and much loved animals, and it occurred to me in only a mildly tongue in cheek way that knowing what to do really should be included in any immigration qualification test.

Christmas Eve last year, we were pootling along a quiet country road, eucalypts arching overhead, birds twittering quietly in the summer heat, listening to Christmas carols and singing along in a toneless way when a man stepped out into the road and flagged us down. A rapid discussion ensued - should we stop? Could he be a crazy fellow with an axe hidden behind his lycra covered body? Why oh why did he look panic struck and dishevelled?

Figuring that three of us should surely be able to overpower one lone person if he did turn out to be problematic, we stopped and wound down the window a smidgeon. He stumbled toward the car with crazed eyes, gesticulating wildly and gabbling about a koala. Realizing that his intent wasn't malicious, we paid closer attention and made out that he'd just cycled past an injured koala and needed help to get it off the road.

Driving on a bit further, there was indeed a koala in bad shape. It was staggering around at the side of the road and appeared to be injured and disoriented. Doing my best 'action woman' impersonation I commandeered the cheap *billabong blanket and remembering to look both ways before I crossed the road, strode over while unfolding the blanket.

Getting closer it was obvious that the animal had been hit by a car or truck, its eyes were bleeding and it was dragging one leg.  Steve Irwin would at this stage have been proud of his legacy. I remembered watching him leap on assorted animals, and knew that the fight put up by the koala when I tackled him could well be far, far more than I anticipated. I also know they have very sharp, long claws, and no matter how cute they look on tv, they are more like a ball of aggro muscle, intent on discouraging any threats.

Note the length of the claws!
This koala looks docile,
but it can go from sleeping to slashing in milliseconds.

Holding the blanket in front of me a bit like a matador, I knew I'd only have one chance to throw the blanket over him, but given that it was a cheap, lightweight one, that I'd not only have to get it over him, but hold it in place, cover his eyes and somehow tuck his legs in away from me so I didn't get slashed.

I was prepared for the angry, frightened LOUD growling of an animal in dreadful pain, and I knew I'd only have one shot at this before he either headed bush or into the road (horrible thought that I might be up close when another car hit him), so I kind of just looked at him, worked out the trajectory of leap needed and went for it.

Me! I still can't believe I did it. I have no idea why I took over, why I didn't shove the blanket in someone else's hands. Strangely some part of my brain took over and did the directing. And this isn't like me, I'm a wimp. I hate seeing injuries where there's blood and I've been known to freeze in an emergency.

Anyhow, there I was, lying on top of the violently squirming, extremely strong koala, being savagely growled at, now wondering what the hell I was going to do next.

It was all well and good to have his limbs tucked in (no claws in sight) face covered (it's what they do on tv, and is presumably an attempt to calm the terrified creature) but he's got 4 legs, each ending in 4billion long, sharp claws, and a mouth full of teeth, and I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to lift him into the esky that my hubby and daughter have brought over. If I let go of any bits, I'm likely to get severely slashed, gouged or torn to bits. (Reminiscent of classic drop bear injuries.) Not good.

Meanwhile, my daughter had called the local wildlife help service (there were numbers on signs along the road) and had been given details of the closest vet that we could take the injured koala to, to receive treatment. This is a free service provided by vets! Hooray for vets!! 

A trucky had stopped and supplied a pair of leather gloves, and the extremely concerned lycra clad cyclist was hovering overhead clucking encouragingly.

Hubby and daughter manoeuvred the esky as close as possible and two of us lifted the distressed animal into it. I exchanged phone numbers with the cyclist as he wanted to know the outcome and hoped beyond hope that the koala could be rehabilitated.

The drive to the vets was distressing for all of us. I was glimpsing in the rear vision mirror and every so often could see an arm extending up from under the lid much like a vampire rising from a coffin. It was horrible and needless to say, he kept growling.

The vet was wonderful, but the outcome wasn't. It turned out that the koala had been hit by a car or truck some time previously, and that large cut was filled with maggots, he'd then been hit again which had damaged his head and eyes. The vet was very compassionate when he told us he'd put the creature down. The worst part was phoning the cyclist to share the news with him, he was clearly very upset and couldn't understand why no one else had stopped to help, as a number of cars had driven past him ignoring his pleas for help.

(Even though the service was free, we did make a donation to help cover expenses.)

If you do happen to hit an animal and kill it, it's best to drag it well off the side of the road. In many areas Wedge tailed eagles and other birds and animals will feed off the carcass and far too many of them are also killed because they are unable to move to safety quickly enough.

A wedge tailed eagle with its wingspan of over 2 metres (about 7ft 5in) and length of around a metre (3ft 6in)  is slow moving on the ground and needs time and space to take off. Seeing a pair of these magnificent birds splattered on the roadside is horrible.

Hunters should also ensure that any feral animals they kill are well off the side of the road.

Wild pigs left to bloat and rot by hunters. 

Wallabies, kangaroos and emus are scatty to say the least. They'll appear to be heading in one direction, then completely without warning will leap in the opposite direction, often directly into the path of the car. Beware when you see them! They're completely unpredictable and passengers, in particular children, can be extremely distressed when one is hit and run over.

A comprehensive list of wildlife care groups is at: 
http://www.fnpw.org.au/resources/wildlife-carer-arescue-groups-australia

These groups will also give instructions on how to manage if an animal is injured, and you are unable to get it to a vet.

*A billabong rug is a woollen picnic blanket with waterproof backing. The one we had in the car was a cheap imitation which was good as it needed to be discarded after use.

 

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Flowers on The Dutchmans Stern

The wallaby hunched a few metres from the track in scraggly shade, barely stopped his grooming to watch my irregular, stumbling progress towards the car and a mug of tea.

This walk has been tougher than I expected. It's not that 10ks is completely beyond me yet, so perhaps it was the heat and rocky gradient that had me puffing and looking for excuses to stop every few metres.

I'd been longing for years to see the famed beauty of outback wildflowers and the walk struggle up to The Dutchmans Stern was everything I'd dreamed of. Whilst this area wouldn't be considered "Real Outback" by a lot of people, and they'd be quite dismissive of the walk, the further into the centre you go, the drier it becomes and the less variety of flowers there are to be drooled over.

And so, the exhausting expedition at the southern end of the Flinders Ranges became an excuse to stop, bend and click, walk a bit, then stop, bend and click.

But ... there's always a but isn't there?

I stuffed up far too many of the photos. Whether it was my dark glasses with their out of date prescription, or the sweat dripping into my eyes, or just plain stupidity, and not checking after each shot, too many of the photos are out of focus to be considered worth sharing to even the most generous and forgiving reader.

Damn.

However, a few were worth sharing and many flowers were asking to be described in all their rich, vibrant glory:

Minute hair like stems with a lone brilliant yellow flower 4ml in diameter (about 1/8inch) emerged from the harsh rocky soil, not a dense carpet, but singly, apparently alone, but actually in sparse clusters. They stretch the length of my thumb to the sky, fragile, delicate, exquisite in their perfection.

Other, vine-like, straggle up a sparse bush, drooping vine like clusters of 'egg and bacon' -  golden/rust pea-like flowers, almost hidden by the scratchy leaves and insignificant yellow flowers of the host bush.

Puffballs of gold, wattles of assorted varieties. Generous, vivid yellows contrast dramatically with the red soil. Some have harsh spiky leaves,

others more forgiving for a bare armed passer-by.

Small yellow flowers (so much yellow!) like buttercups, improbably located out here, but appear to follow the sun. I couldn't bear to pick any as they'd struggled so valiantly to bloom in these harsh conditions.


Tiny mauve and white flowers, mostly single stemmed, but sometimes growing in clusters, then, what appeared to be a miniature iris next to some "daisy chain daisies". Is that possible?

Crisp everlasting daisies, with balls of yellow petals, joyous, long-lasting as their name suggests. Starbursts of yellow and white, just like a child's painting of a flower, complete with foraging bee.

At one place there were sweeping drifts of daisy bushes, the profusion of pure white flowers improbably clean in this dusty land.

Puffy mauve delicate things, ranging all the way through to rich regal purples, some minutely fringed like a royal ruff.

White and yellow, infinitesimal things; kneeling on unfriendly, rocky ground to try to capture the delicate beauty and fragile nature of these tiny beauties. You can just see some of the yellow ones in the photo above, the fringed mauve flower is about 1cm (less than 1/2 inch) in diameter - the yellow flowers are tiny!

And ants, everywhere ants. An abundance, a profusion of ants. Do you know that song "Itsy bitsy fuzzy wuzzy worm" and one line is "big fat juicy ones, long thin tiny ones" well, this was the ant version of that song!

Ants aren't my favourite creature on earth. I acknowledge their importance in removing debris and changing it from one form into another. But I don't like them on me, crawling in a focused, meaningful way up an unprotected limb. Ants aren't friendly.

Busy ants, scurrying ants, some neat and orderly, playing follow the leader with deep intent, others bustling, some appear frantic and undisciplined, seem to spiral out of control. So many varieties - small, medium, large, fat, thin, dark, or pale and translucent, all moving as if the other types simply didn't exist. Billions upon billions of ants.

And the flies. The constant background drone of flies eternally buzzing, crawling, tickling, crawling up under your glasses to drink at the moisture around your eyes. And for goodness sake, don't breathe deeply through your mouth. You'll likely breathe one in and spend the next long minutes coughing pathetically to evict the horrible little bugger from the depths of your throat where it will have got caught and is making an unhappy nuisance of itself.

After that unpleasant interlude, you might enjoy the heady fragrance of the sage and curry-bushes, releasing their aromatic oils in the warm air. Listen to the clash and clatter of shale dislodged by ferral goats, the demanding bleat of a lost kid and compare it to the gentle footfall of a wallaby, perfectly suited to its environment.

... and start thinking about recipes for ferral goats and how much better for the environment it'd be if those culled were somehow able to be sold for food.

The gold of the Flinders Ranges wattle on the right, looking over The Dutchmans Stern more or less toward the plane where Quorn is located and Southern Flinders Ranges.
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K. Kangaroos, koalas & kookaburras. ABC Wednesday.

I’ve found a photo of a kangaroo or two, taken south-west of Kalgoorlie a couple of years ago but unfortunately no koalas are in my albums. (The cyclists did have heads, but I've edited them out to maintain anonymity even though it looks a bit queer.) 

It was great to be around kindred spirits and have a cup of tea from their kettles – they were very kindly - often I’d follow the cuppa with a bit of a kip when I got to the campsite.

My knobbly knees suffered a fair bit, and exhaustion kicked in each evening. But on this particular day there was a bit of a kerfuffle when the crazy emus kept pinching ketchup sandwiches from the kindly kids. The kangaroos weren’t much better and of course the kids treated them with kid gloves because they were in awe of them and were afraid they’d be kicked in the kidneys if they weren’t compliant. 

Honestly, you almost need to use karate or kick boxing to keep the creatures away they’re so keen to collect your food. But if we did that, they’d keel over and that’d be bad for your karma and the cops might hold a kangaroo court wearing kaftans (this is crazy!)

Many years ago, I saw a kangaroo on the beach hopping over the kelp (true dinks!) and was surprised when it swam across a creek. Even weirder was watching kookaburras chomping strawberries. 

Simple pleasures, happy memories - sometimes I think I've lived better than a king.

Thankyou to Mrs Nesbitt and her kindly team for hosting ABC Wednesday. Click to see fabulous variations on the theme from participants from around the world.

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