‘It’s okay, he won’t hurt you,’ said Carol. She offered Smooch a fresh gumleaf. ‘Come on, buddy, it’s not nap time. Don’t you want your lunch?’ He reluctantly untangled himself and took the leaf between one finger and his first tiny thumb. He sat on my lap, nibbling the leaf daintily, as if he wasn’t really sure what it was.
‘In the wild, koala babies learn to eat solid food when they’re about six months old,’ Carol told me. ‘They start with something called pap. It’s basically their mum’s poo.’
I screwed up my nose. ‘Eugh. Really? Poo?’
Carol laughed at my funny face. ‘Oh, it’s not that bad. It’s how the mums pass on good bacteria for their bub’s stomach. Smooch’s mum already started him on it before she died, so his stomach can handle gumleaves. If she hadn’t, they’d be poisonous for him. Pretty smart, hey?’
It took Smooch ages to eat just three leaves. His mouth was small and he chewed very slowly. When he lost interest, he ditched the leaf he was holding and clambered unsteadily off the couch. Once he was down, he waddled over to where Brownie lay on the floor. He sniffed him and then pounced, wrestling the teddy and trying to bite his ears. Brownie fell sideways on top of Smooch and I sprang from my seat.
‘He’ll be okay,’ said Carol, beckoning for me to sit back down. ‘He’s just playing. I think your teddy does remind him of his mum.’
I smiled. I understood completely. Although I’d never exactly wrestled Brownie, I knew how nice it was to have a big brown bear to cuddle. I was glad I’d chosen to give Brownie to Smooch now.
After he’d played for a while, Smooch was ready for another sleep. Carol said koalas slept a lot. She carefully bundled him up in her make-do pouch and popped him back inside her jumper.
‘Will you come back next Saturday?’ she asked as I stood up to go. ‘Meet the rest of my babies?’
There were more? My eyes grew wide. I quickly nodded. ‘Yes, please,’ I said. ‘I’ll bring more leaves.’
After I’d said goodbye, I ran the whole way home. I couldn’t wait to tell Gran and Lizzie all about Carol and Smooch. I wondered what it would take to become a wildlife carer. Perhaps Carol could train me and then I could do it too? My head began to explode with possibilities. Imagine all the animals we could fit on the farm. Imagine caring for animals like Smooch – for the rest of my life!
4. Bush Babies
Strawberry season came around only once a year. It was the best time of year because we got to fill our bellies with fresh juicy strawberries, but it was also the worst time because it was winter and always cold. Our big old verandah wrapped all the way around our creaky timber house and with the huge ancient trees crowding up over our roof, practically no sun got in. It was a dark house at that time of year and the first thing Gran and I did every afternoon was switch on the bright cheery lights in the kitchen.
‘Hey, guess what?’ I shouted when I got home from Carol’s late that afternoon. Strange. Gran hadn’t turned on any lights. Even though it was nearly time for tea. I threw my runners off in the hall and flicked the switch in the kitchen.
My hand froze at the wall. Gran sat at the kitchen table, her head buried in her hands.
‘Gran?’
She looked up at me and blinked against the yellow light. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying.
I started towards her. But then I stopped. A torn envelope sat beside her elbow on the table. A piece of scrunched-up paper lay on the floor by her feet.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked, not daring to take another step. The envelope wasn’t bright and colourful, like a birthday card or party invitation. It was slim and white and crisp. And very serious-looking.
It must have been. Gran never cried.
Gran rummaged in her pocket for a tissue and quickly blew her nose. ‘It’s okay, Rosie,’ she said. ‘Just that . . . things are a bit tough, that’s all. The bills are mounting up, the strawberry price is down, and now this.’ Her eyes fell to the envelope. It might have been a huge black hairy huntsman the way she looked at it. ‘It’s from the bank. I’ve been expecting it for months. Your Uncle Malcolm said this would happen.’
I gritted my teeth. Uncle Malcolm! He was Dad’s younger brother and he lived in the city. It had been hard for Gran to care for me and run the farm after Mum and Dad died, so Gran had asked Uncle Malcolm for help. He was always too busy selling big city houses to rich city people, so he’d given Gran money instead.
But last year people stopped buying big houses in the city and Uncle Malcolm ran out of money to spare. He started ringing up Gran every week, telling her to sell the farm and cut her losses. He wanted Gran and me to move in with him so he could keep an eye on us.
But Gran told him no.
She said she’d never sell the farm.
Uncle Malcolm wouldn’t let Lizzie come if we moved in with him. He was allergic to everything. Everything! And that included dogs, even smart ones with soft brown eyes and a taste for berries.
Uncle Malcolm had become furious when Gran said no. He shouted at her, a loud booming shout that made our timber windows rattle. A shout that still gave me nightmares. ‘You’re being ridiculous!’ he’d roared. ‘The bank will come knocking. Dog or no dog. Give it time, you’ll see!’
I’d hugged Brownie close the night Uncle Malcolm had shouted at Gran. We’d never leave Lizzie behind. Would we?
And now it seemed Uncle Malcolm had been right. The bank had come knocking. I looked at Gran’s face, all crumpled and red. They couldn’t make us move. I wouldn’t let them.
‘Don’t worry, Gran,’ I assured her, using my bravest voice. ‘We don’t need Uncle Malcolm. Something’ll come up. It’ll be okay.’ I tried to sound upbeat, but Gran didn’t look convinced. I crossed my fingers behind my back.
The following Saturday took forever to arrive. When it finally did, and the strawberry stall had sold out, I gathered an armful of leaves and headed to Carol’s. This time Lizzie came too. At first Carol wasn’t sure about having a dog inside, but it wasn’t long before she realised that Lizzie wasn’t an ordinary old dog and let her stay.
We met Jedda, the kangaroo joey who slept in a knitted red jumper with the bottom sewn up, and Pip, the wallaby so young she looked like a tiny pink bird. Then there was Maggie, the magpie who could dribble a soccer ball with her beak, and Ned and Nellie and Piggy and . . . There were so many animals, I lost count! They all loved Lizzie, especially Smooch, who thought I’d brought him another teddy bear to wrestle. Carol told me she’d been caring for injured or orphaned animals for over 30 years.
That explained her worn-out hands.
Bunny rugs and blankets were tossed over every surface in Carol’s house. The kitchen bench was completely hidden under bottles of formula and bags of green pellets and boxes of birdseed. The whole place smelt of warm soggy Weet-Bix.
‘What do you have to do to become a wildlife carer?’ I asked. ‘Do you have to go to university?’ I bit my lip and reached down to rub between Lizzie’s ears. I wasn’t smart like Kellee and Tahlia. I’d never got an ‘A’ in my life. ‘It’s just that . . . well . . . I’m not that good at school. Do you think, maybe I . . .’
‘You rescued Smooch, didn’t you? You’d breeze it in,’ said Carol. ‘These guys need caring people exactly like you.’ She scratched her head with her wide brown hands. ‘As long as you don’t mind smelling of baby formula, that is, and getting no sleep, never having a holiday and . . . oh . . . having no money. What do you think?’
I laughed and scooped Lizzie into my arms. I didn’t mind how I smelt. And having no money or holidays? That was old news at our place. I nodded happily. ‘Yes, yes, I’d love to.’ Lizzie licked my face in approval.
Carol shrugged. ‘Tell you what, why not practise right now? Smooch is ready for a snooze. You can be mum. Go on, tuck your T-shirt in.’
I released Lizzie in a flurry and jammed my T
-shirt into my jeans. Carol snuggled Smooch up in his pouch and passed me the bundle. With trembling hands, I slid it down the neck of my T-shirt until it was safely nestled against my skin, just above the waistband of my jeans. Now I had a Santa belly just like Carol. My cheeks ached from my massive grin.
I stood perfectly still, feeling Smooch’s gentle breathing tickle my tummy. I couldn’t budge. What if I woke him? What if he got hurt? Carol eventually convinced me that it was okay to move, saying there was too much to do to just stand around like a lump. She passed me some ointment to rub on Pip the wallaby, asked me to cut up apples for the possums, and then showed me how to make up a bowl of warm cereal. ‘For Jedda,’ she said. ‘We’re trying to fatten her up.’
Jedda’s red jumper was slung across the back of a chair. The neck hung open like the opening to a pouch. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Pull her out? What if I frightened her?
‘Jedda,’ I said gently, crouching awkwardly beside the jumper. ‘Lunchtime.’ The jumper moved. A small pointed brown face appeared through the neck hole. Two enormous ears poked out. Jedda’s wet nose twitched in the direction of my bowl. Not long afterwards, her whole body emerged from the jumper. Her back legs were long and spindly with the knobbliest knees I’d ever seen. She had three toes on each foot. Then came her never-ending tail. Her shiny eyes stared at the cereal.
I smiled. Lizzie lay on the floor beside me while I scooped a small amount of cereal onto the spoon and offered it to the hungry kangaroo. The end of her pink tongue dipped daintily into the cereal like she was worried she’d make a mess of her whiskers if she ate too fast. Each time the spoon emptied, I filled it again. Jedda took so long Lizzie was snoring before we were even halfway done.
On the third-last spoonful, the bundle inside my T-shirt began to move. It felt like Smooch was doing a tumble turn. One tumble turn became three.
‘Carol!’ I cried, trying not to panic. Lizzie sat bolt upright and tipped her head to the side. A volcano was erupting in my Santa belly. Perhaps Smooch didn’t like me after all?
Carol was standing at the kitchen bench, rewrapping a bandage on an injured possum. She was at the tricky bit where you had to make sure it didn’t all unravel, so she didn’t look up when I called. ‘What?’ she said absently. Then, when she saw my stricken face, she added, ‘First, calm down and then just stick your hand into your shirt and ease the pouch out. No need to panic.’
My mouth had gone completely dry. How would I know which end was up? What if he slipped out and cracked his head on the floor? I was supposed to be caring for him, not making things worse. So far I was a failure as a koala mother.
‘Use both hands to unwrap the pouch. When you get to his body, hold him close. He might get a fright when he realises you’re not me.’
I carefully unravelled the pouch until Smooch’s grey fluffy ears and bright button eyes appeared. My hands were shaking but he wasn’t the least bit worried that I wasn’t Carol. He clawed his way out and clung onto my neck. Then he turned his head to look at Jedda’s bowl.
Carol laughed. ‘Greedy guts,’ she said. ‘He’s got a whiff of Jedda’s lunch. Stay there. I’ll make him up a bottle.’
Jedda was getting fidgety. She wanted the last of her food and Smooch was making her wait. ‘Here, give me the bowl,’ said Carol when she came back from the kitchen. ‘I’ll finish up with Jedda and you feed Smooch. I think you’re his favourite anyway.’ She passed me a fresh warm bottle and I prised Smooch away from my neck. He guzzled down the whole lot and then snuggled into my lap for another snooze. I cuddled him into my arms and stroked his hairy ear with my thumb.
‘You’re my favourite too,’ I whispered.
5. Lizzie
By the time strawberry season was over, Smooch had grown too heavy for the pouch around our bellies. He still liked nestling in my hair and having cuddles on my lap, but it wasn’t quite the same as having him snuggled inside my shirt. Sometimes he would curl up next to Lizzie in the corner of Carol’s couch and I’d have to wait for them both to wake up before I could go home.
But I didn’t mind. The longer I spent away from home the better. Gran hadn’t been the same since the letter from the bank. She moped about the place, obsessively flicking off light switches – to save electricity, she said – and complaining about all the carrots I fed Mickey. Worse still, she flinched every time the phone rang. It was always Uncle Malcolm anyway. Nag, nag, nag. The bank was getting impatient.
Not long after Christmas, Carol said Smooch was big and strong enough to move into the aviary in her shady backyard. He’d started stealing the other animals’ food and nearly tipped Carol’s bookcases over while practising how to climb. He was 16-months old now and as big as a football. Carol said it was time to prepare him for his release back into the wild.
I didn’t think the move to the aviary was such a great idea. For a start it meant fewer cuddles. But worse, it meant Smooch could get hurt. He was safe inside the house with Carol, but outside, there were dogs and cats and even meddling kids. What if one of them broke into his cage? Carol said I should stop worrying, that Smooch would be just fine, and she kept me busy collecting leaves. Lots of leaves. In fact, Lizzie and I spent most of the summer holidays running between the creek at our farm and Carol’s backyard, making sure Smooch had all the leaves he needed to make him strong enough for the wild.
One day, when the summer holidays were nearly over, I was lugging yet another stack of freshly cut eucalypt leaves over to Carol’s, when I heard familiar voices giggling up ahead. I clutched the branches to my chest and jammed my face among the leaves. Lizzie’s tail slunk between her legs. She didn’t like the sound of the giggles either.
‘You building an ark or what?’ Kellee and Tahlia had planted themselves across the footpath in front of us. Their wet swimming pool hair and red icy pole lips made them look like saltwater crocodiles, ready to strike.
Go away, I prayed, squeezing my eyes shut. Just leave me alone.
‘Bit extreme, don’t you think? Carrying a whole tree? Most people wear hats to keep off the sun.’ They laughed, a nasty, sneaky laugh that made my skin feel like maggots were wriggling over it. One of them, I’m not sure which, tugged at the branches. ‘Hello? We can see you under there you know, bumpkin.’
I pulled back. They pulled harder, so I yanked the branches sideways. They came loose and I fell back, landing hard on my backside on the concrete. Lizzie scooted out of the way just in time. Leaves and branches were scattered all around me.
‘Ha ha, serves you right, scarecrow. See ya at school,’ laughed Tahlia, looping her arm through Kellee’s and waltzing off down the path.
I watched them go, my elbows stinging, my eyes prickling with tears. Is that what they thought? That I was a scarecrow? With straw in my head instead of brains? A fat tear rolled down my cheek as I reached over to pick up the fallen branches. Maybe they were right. Maybe my head was filled with useless straw. It had been months since Gran had got the letter from the bank, and I hadn’t managed to do anything about saving the farm.
A soft nose pushed gently against my face just as another tear threatened to plop onto the concrete. A rough tongue licked at my cheek. ‘Lucky I’ve got you, hey Lizzie,’ I murmured, pulling her to me and burying my face in her fur.
We’d already agreed on the place to release Smooch: down by the creek, near where we’d found him and his mum, almost nine months before. Carol checked with the other carers to make sure no other male koalas had taken over the area and by the time school went back for the year, Smooch was all ready to go.
‘Couldn’t I look after him?’ I asked for the millionth time. ‘We could build an enclosure off our verandah and I’d make sure he was safe and I . . .’
‘No, he needs a bigger playground,’ said Carol firmly. ‘Anyway, why are you complaining? You’ll be able to visit him every day, not just Saturdays.’
Smooch sat
quietly in the cage as Gran, Carol, Lizzie and I carried him to the creek. He wasn’t frightened. Just curious.
‘Here, we’ll put him on this one,’ said Carol, opening the cage and placing Smooch at the base of the tree. ‘Koalas love tallowwoods.’
Gran rested her hand on my shoulder as we watched Smooch wrap his arms around the trunk, like he was hugging it. I sucked in a breath as he lifted his bottom, ready to climb. We waited, expecting him to go. But he didn’t. Instead, he stopped and looked over, as if checking we were still there.
My eyes went all hot and runny. I dipped my face so Smooch couldn’t see. ‘Go on, Smooch,’ I whispered. ‘It’s okay. Nothing will hurt you, I promise.’
Smooch turned back to the tree and Gran pulled me away. We stood with Carol and Lizzie at a distance and watched him climb until he got to a thick branch about halfway up. He pushed his bottom down into the ‘V’ between the branch and the trunk, clasping the tree with both hands. Then he looked down at us like he was making a decision, a very important decision. After a few seconds he blinked, and snuggled into his new home.
Lizzie and I checked on Smooch every day after that. We’d race down to the creek after school and would usually find him resting high up in his favourite tallowwood tree. I felt like singing every time I spotted his fuzzy grey face among the branches. It was so good to see him there. We’d saved him: Lizzie, Gran, Carol and me. Now it was our job to keep him safe. Not that Smooch seemed to care. He would turn his head and chew slowly while I grinned up at him, as if he wondered what all the fuss was about.
‘I’m glad I’ve got you, Smooch,’ I whispered one day. It was the day everyone but me received invitations to Kellee’s birthday party. Even the new, new kids got one. Kellee made a point of telling me I wasn’t invited – in front of everyone. Not that I wanted to go. I’d rather climb up in the tallowwood tree and spend the day with Smooch. ‘We could eat leaves and have naps and stay safe, high in the treetops,’ I told him. ‘What do you think? Maybe I’ll even stay. Never go to school. Never be called bumpkin or scarecrow again.’ And never see Gran’s fingers tremble every time she opened the mail. ‘If only something would happen. If only everything would be okay.’
Smooch & Rose Page 2
