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Published: July 14th 2006
Lou, the koala
Redefining cuteThe following day, I visited Paul's Place, an animal sanctuary which had come highly recommended by Pieter and which appealed strongly because of the opportunity to hold a koala bear. Unfortunately it didn't turn out to be quite what I was expecting - I thought you'd be able to just wander around the place seeing what you liked, but in fact it was a tour that included forced audience participation. Shy and retiring chap that I am, I've never been a fan of that sort of thing. Paul himself was very much a stereotypical unreconstructed Aussie male, seemingly on a mission to cause offence or at least discomfort to all.
With me being the only non-Aussie on the tour (and, even worse, a Pom), as well as the only solo person there, I was the obvious target whenever Paul needed a "volunteer". Amongst other indignities visited upon me, I struggled under the weight of a kangaroo while feeding it milk from a bottle (the thing was unceremoniously dumped in my arms), held a wriggling lobster, endured a parakeet and parrot plonked on my head and left shoulder respectively, and had a carpet snake draped over me. I escaped having my
Possum
Yes, you're cute too head liberally doused in grain so that an emu could peck it off, but the other male members of the group were not so fortunate. However, while wandering through the bird cage, the parrot - name of Wilma - took out some brooding aggression on me by attacking me from behind and latching onto my ear with its beak. I raised my hand in order to try to beat it off, at which point it transferred its attentions to my left index finger, applying enough pressure that the word "Ow" was already forming on my lips when I managed to wrench myself free. Paul come over to calm Wilma down, by which time the ragged cut on my finger was bleeding freely. "Hmm - she doesn't normally break the skin", he stated with scientific detachment, presumably trying (and failing) to convey his sympathy by telepathy only.
On the plus side, the kangaroos were very sweet. You were allowed to hand-feed them, during which they held your hand with their stubby forelegs while nibbling at the grain. The other animals - ducks, sheep, peacocks, goats, chickens, deer, ponies, and emus - were rather more aggressive, and we passed the bucket
of grain around between us like the proverbial hot potato, as to be in possession of it was to be at the centre of a maelstrom of competing hungry animals. And at close quarters an emu looks very threatening indeed.
Paul also did a sheep-shearing demonstration, expertly turning an extremely shaggy animal into something sleek and about half the size in a couple of minutes. He then spread the fleece over a rotatable round table and snipped off the trailing bits. After forcing one woman to wear it like an oversized afro, he invited a young boy (maybe 5) to to sit on the table for a merry-go-round ride. The kid looked a little worried, especially when Paul said he was going to keep spinning the table until he fell off, but contrary to all Paul's previous comments and behaviour, it was a gentle ride and the child was smiling when Paul lifted him off. Next thing, Paul threw the kid backwards onto a heap of previously-sheared wool. The look on the kid's face was of pure terror, and there was a collective gasp from his watching family. After he'd landed, unharmed, he promptly burst into tears and made
a dash for his mother. Paul's comment: "Bet you won't be coming back here again!"
Highlight of the day was definitely holding Lou, one of five resident koala bears. I'm not sure she necessarily shared that opinion, as when we entered the eucalyptus yard she clearly knew what was coming next and attempted to escape up her tree. Paul, however, had a ladder, and she was soon being plonked on one tourist after another for photo opportunities. She was very gentle, and as furry and cuddly as you might expect, docilely looking around while being securely clamped on my side.
Other animals we saw included some timid Tammar wallabies, a bettong, a pair of echidnas snuffling for termites, a cute possum wrapped in a blanket and nibbling a slice of bread, and a kookaburra that perfomed its signature laughing cackle.
Next time I visit an animal sanctuary in this country, I'll find out in more detail just what I'm letting myself in for.
I finished the day in Penneshawe, from where I'd be catching the ferry back to the mainland the following day, and checked into a hostel with the grimmest kitchen I've seen yet, though
the place was so empty that the owner gave me a single room for a dorm price. There was no lock on the door, reflecting the general crimelessness of the island.
The evening was distinguished by a tour of the Little Penguin colony in Penneshawe. Named for their size, and called Fairy Penguins in other parts of the world, they return to their colony after an evening swim for dinner, and the tours are timed to catch them waddling up the shore to their burrows. Being something of a penguin fan, this was a must-see.
The Visitor Centre contained a Penguin Particulars whiteboard, on which comments of recent penguin-related events had been written, ranging from the ominous (black cat sighting), to the hopeful (chick sightings), to the downright tragic ("Penguin hit by car on North Terrace").
The tour consisted of a slow stroll along a boardwalk running through the colony, illuminated by soft-glow lamps. The guide picked out details of the burrows or individual penguins using a red torch, which I assume is either outside their visible spectrum, or just doesn't bother them.
Unfortunately their evening swim was a long one, so we didn't see a
procession of penguins waddling up the beach - just a few standing around doing nothing (napping, apparently), and a couple having a squabble. However I've been in a bit of a penguin drought recently so it was still fun.
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