A tiny mitten for Nancy

CW: Mentions of animal injury and physical trauma

A tiny mitten for Nancy

I knew instinctively as soon as I woke up, this was going to be an exhausting day. The smell of smoke was in the air, sifting through the levers in the bathroom and when I looked out there was a haze in the distance over Adelaide. Days on end with soaring temperatures over 40 degrees left little chance for the bushfires in the hills to subside and now with the increasing northerly wind the roads shut to the public. People evacuated from their homes so that only rescue vehicles could operate in the most affected areas.

Sleep had finally come to me in the early hours of the morning, and I was grateful that I was able to drift off for a little while. The heat stayed locked in the house and the air conditioner only helped if I sat right in front of it. I sprayed my body with the water bottle before laying the sarong over me, and I let the fan by end of the bed cool me. But it was hardly any relief from this stifling heat. Luckily, I lived not far from the sea, on the “flat lands” as the hills people called it. There was usually a breeze from the ocean and as I laid there in front of the fan, I thought of heading to the beach for a swim before I started this day.

The sand was burning hot under my feet already in the early morning hour, and I did not take my thongs off until I got to the water. It was a still morning, only a soft breeze over the water causing small ripples and then there was the haze and smell of smoke.

I dived into the water and let the cool ocean sooth my body as the salt penetrated my skin. The sensation was beautiful, and I could forget everything for a minute or two as I let the water take me on its journey. I floated and looked up into the sky. It was no longer blue, just a hazy grey, like a low cloud drifting over me.

There was no need to dry off with the towel, I was dry before I even got to the path through the sandhills and even my sarong that I had dipped in the water was now almost completely dry.

I started the first shift of the day at the animal rescue hospital where I had been volunteering now for a long time. We were usually busy during the summer months with animals brought in sick with dehydration but this time it was the bushfire victims that arrived. I could smell it as soon as I come through the door. The strong smell of burning flesh and fur. It always got to me, and it made me feel so inadequate and helpless. I changed into overalls and moved quickly through the “bird room” and out to the cages in the back where we kept the burn victims. I did not know what to expect to find out there. There was usually one or two casualties during the night or those who’s condition who had worsen. The patients were mostly koalas, attached to drips in portable cages and others on cool beds on the ground in the larger cages.

It was with great relief that I could assess that there was no change for the worse during the night and I hurried to check the drips before I filled the buckets with fresh water for the leaves. Each one of us volunteers brought in fresh eucalyptus leaves every morning and we hosed them down and kept them moist for our patients. A koala eats a considerable amount of eucalyptus leaves. We would measure it by the shopping bags you would get from the supermarket. One bag filled with leaves per koala per day. We soon learned which leaves were the good ones. You crushed one in your hand and if it smelled with the strong scent of eucalyptus then it was the right one.

I cleaned the scats off the ground and washed the floor with water. It was important to keep the cages clean as not to spread any infections. The smell out here was bad. The animals had their paws bandaged from burn injuries and you could smell the burned skin. We were hoping the injuries would heal with time and care and all we could do was to administer antibiotics and painkillers and keep the animals hydrated. Dehydrated and disorientated animals found by the side of the road needed care and often you would find a small joey in the pouch that also needed looking after. In cases where the mother ended up euthanized the joey would stay with us or a carer for a long time before releasing it back into the wild again.

Koalas can run quite fast when they need but when they sit high up in the top of a tree and the flames of the fire starts to climb there is nowhere to run to. They get stuck or they jump down only to burn alive. The concrete roads heat up and for a koala on the run the boiling asphalt can be devastating to their paws.

I worked quietly making sure I took care of each one of our patience’s needs and soon my colleagues started arriving one by one. It was now all hands-on deck, and the phone was going wild from the public who had managed to break through the security and were waiting for us to pick up injured wildlife.

We worked diligently throughout the day and the heat in the shed out the back was becoming unbearable. The public delivered fans and cooling devices and a company offered to install another air conditioner for free. We knew we were only in the beginning of the bush fire season and dreaded what was coming ahead.

“Mittens! We need mittens!”

The word reached the media and soon the hospital became overrun by mittens. Small gloves in all imaginable materials neatly sewn by the public and delivered to our doorstep. The word got around, and we even got parcels from overseas.

They brought a young female koala in for assessment. They found it sitting by the side of the road and we feared it would have renal failure which is a common thing for these animals. It was very thirsty, which is usually a sign, and it seemed thin and frail. We named her Nancy and the vet started running tests as we administered a drip to keep the hydration up. I nursed her in the little cage, and she kept looking at me with those beautiful brown eyes as if she knew she was safe. I could feel a trust between us and for every free minute I had I was there by her side. There is a rule never to become to friendly with these animals, not to get them trusting in humans to much as they are part of the wildlife and will hopefully return to the wild again one day. But Nancy was different, it was as if she knew and wanted us to be close to her. Tests came back negative. No renal failure, no chlamydia, a small infection in the paw which was treatable with antibiotics. I found one of the mittens on the table. It was the one with the blue sky and white clouds embroidered on and I tied it around the bandage on Nancy’s paw and as I did, I promised myself I would look after this one and make sure to release her safely back into the environment, just like so many before her.

The news in the evening brough further disasters from the bush fire. Homes destroyed along with hectares of land and forests. They talked about cattle and domestic animals that burned alive and the devastation of the wildlife in the bush. There were pictures of fire fighters seemingly fighting an endless battle. The unsung heroes of the day. Walls of flames leaping over distances as if they had a life of their own. And there was no letting up of the intense heat.

Gradually as the week progressed those who had improved were able go to carers and looked after in a prerelease condition. The problem now was that their natural habitat where they came from was destroyed. One koala went out another one came in. The circle was endless. A nightmare when I think back on it.

We all worked tirelessly and the only consolation for me was Nancy, who continued to improve with each day. We changed her mitten, but I kept the one with the blue sky and clouds as a promise of her release one day. She gained weight and we knew as soon as the infection had healed, she would be gone, back out into the wild again. I spent as much time as I could with her and never tired of having her by my side as I cleaned and swiped her cage. She was eating by herself now, sleeping almost all day as they do on their favorite branches. I patted the soft grey fur on her head, and I imagined that she felt safe now and knew I was there to help her.

Nancy was one of the lucky ones. I don’t know the number of paws I held while they became euthanized, always thinking it was for animals’ best interest not to let it suffer. But it hurt me deeply every time.

Eventually the fires became under control and the rescue teams could go back into the forests to find the wounded animals. The hospital received lizards, birds, kangaroos, koalas and even an injured echidna. We all worked as hard as we could, trying our best to heal the wounds and give the best of care to our bushland friends, but sometimes we all felt as if it was not enough. Life can be very cruel sometimes.

The heat subsided and we could all take a deep breath again. Summer was back to normal, well almost. The damage could never go undone but as time went by, we knew that the bushfires here in Australia would trigger seed germination that helps provide nutrients for new growth, there beauty of regeneration ahead. The burnt-out trees that became hollow logs would eventually be homes for small animals and birds which is all part of the circle of nature.

Koalas that survive the bushfires will often return to their original habitat, however this time only to find dead trees and no food. They become refugees in their own lands. Their journey and our work continue, it is an ongoing process.

Nancys habitat was destroyed, so her release was to be at one of the large wineries down south. It is a beautiful valley, filled with eucalyptus trees and other koalas who thrive in this rich environment. I was there when we let her out of the cage and watched her climb up the nearest tree. She turned halfway and looked back at us, as if to say thank you. I watched through a fog of tears and hugged the little mitten in my hand.

I have returned to the winery on several occasions, and I imagine I see her there high up in a tree looking down at me. She was the one that taught me “if you ever look for me, look down first, when you see my scats then look up, and you shall find me.”