Koala cruise

Our second full day in Brisbane was christened Koala Day; at least, it was on my calendar.¹ We'd been in Australia for the better part of a year, zigzagging across this sunburnt country, but had somehow, despite our best efforts, managed to miss out on up-close-and-personal encounters with Australia's (in)famous fauna. Not so much as a wallaby had waddled across our path. The only koalas or kangaroos we’d seen were cartoon figures as corporate mascots or on packaging for roughly 75% of all Australian consumer products.²

But on this day, that was all about to change. We were headed to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, and we were going to cuddle koalas if it was the last thing we did.

The best way to get to the sanctuary from downtown is by boat. In this case, the Miramar II,³ a flat-bottomed beauty that crawls along the Brisbane River (referred to by locals as the Brown Snake with…affection?) with all the urgency of spilled peanut butter. It does give you plenty of time to ponder some of life’s weightier questions. Just kidding. Nobody does that in Queensland.

Not knowing—well, anything, really, I dragged Rick down to the pier first thing in the morning,⁴ where we stood, third and fourth in line, respectively, our necks reddening under the relentless Australian sun. Our captain was a jovial native Brisbanian with a wealth of knowledge about the city’s history German kid who’d moved to Australia “about a year ago.” But he had a bright smile, boundless enthusiasm, and a thick…German? Australian? Gerstralian?...accent. Neither of us caught his name any of the 18 times he repeated it for us, so we just called him Captain Flula the whole day.⁵

As we pulled away from the dock, Captain Flula launched into his spiel, a delightful mix of historical facts, dad jokes, and mangled Aussie slang. "Now, meine Freunde and sheilas," he announced over the loudspeaker from the bridge, “welcome to Brisvegas, where the birds are bin chickens and the rivers are...well, maybe just go for a schwimmen, ja?"

The city of Brisbane unfolded before us like a pop-up book. Skyscrapers reflected palm trees and the overcast sky. As we chugged along, the cityscape gradually gave way to leafy suburbs and waterfront McMansions. I squinted as hard as I could, but I never did get a glimpse of Chris Hemsworth doing bicep curls on his balcony.⁶ 

It took about an hour, but we finally got to Lone Pine, the world's oldest and largest koala sanctuary. Woo hoo! I was so excited…this place is Koala Disneyland! You know, if Disneyland smelled like eucalyptus with strong notes of animal poop.⁷ The sanctuary opened in 1972 with just two koalas, the creatively named Jack and Jill. Today, there are more than 130 of the adorable little furry critters, which, if you think about it, is a small army. If koalas ever stage a coup against their human overlords, it’ll start here, mark my words.

Heading up from the river to the sanctuary, we got ourselves edumacated about koalas—probably the most misunderstood animal since the platypus was mistaken for the bastard child of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck in Rabbit Fire. Some common misconceptions:

Koalas are not bears.⁸ Despite being commonly referred to as “koala bears,” including by luminaries like Prince Charles and Princess Di, these little tree-huggers are, in fact, marsupials. Marsupials are defined using various distinguishing koalafications (get it?), but the basic gist is they birth pre-developed young that continue to develop in their mother’s “pouch,” or marsupium. Meaning the koala is more akin to the wombat and kangaroo than Winnie-the-Pooh.

Koalas are not perpetually stoned on eucalyptus. They have evolved a unique digestive bacterium that allows them to eat eucalyptus, which is toxic.⁹ They also have a keen sense of smell, which helps them avoid eating leaves that are particularly high in toxicity. However, eucalyptus is the only thing they eat. And the high-carb, low-protein diet makes them slow and drowsy. It's like they're on a permanent celery cleanse, poor things.

“Koalas don't drink water” is an unmitigated lie. Total bollocks. They get most of their hydration from eucalyptus leaves, which are about 50% water. They augment that by drinking water—especially during heatwaves or when they're sick.

Armed with our newfound, near-PhD-level koala knowledge (koal-edge?), we were ready to meet the fuzzy little legends. And meet them we did. The koala enclosures were occupied by dozens of koalas clinging to trees like Velcro toys. Some munched lazily on leaves, others slept blissfully, and still others, well, they did a lot of scratching. And some pooping. But no matter what they were doing, each was undeniably heart-meltingly adorable.¹⁰

Rick videotaped one little guy slowly—and I mean achingly slowly, like a sloth on Valium—climbing from one branch to another. It was live-action slow-motion! It was really something to see koalas in their natural state demonstrating the speed and agility that made them the apex predators of the eucalyptus forest.

Walking around the enclosures was fine, but I’d signed up to hold one. You’re not allowed to hold koalas in any other state in Australia. In a world where everything fun is usually illegal or fattening, Queensland has decided to be the cool aunt of Australia that still allows koala holding.¹¹ I lined up at my appointed time, shuffled forward with everyone else, and began to have some serious second thoughts.

Should we really be holding animals? Or swimming with dolphins? Or riding turtles? I’m pretty sure the koalas hadn’t signed up for involuntary hugging marathons. After all, the other Australian states didn’t forbid koala cuddling because they're run by fun-hating robots programmed to destroy joy and adorable photo ops. Maybe we should stick to admiring these furballs from a respectful distance. They've got enough on their plate dealing with eucalyptus hangovers and evolutionary dead-ends.

When it came my turn to hold a koala, I was nervous. The keeper holding the koala motioned me over. “This is Blinky.¹² He's one of our friendliest koalas,” she said, draping one of his arms over my shoulder and the other around my waist. My mind started racing. What if I dropped him? What if he suddenly remembered he was a wild animal? With unexpectedly big claws? What if he peed on me?

But Blinky clearly couldn’t have cared less, bless his little eucalyptus-pickin’ heart. He clung to me like I was his favorite tree despite my lack of yummy leaves. I talked up the keeper a bit while the photographer took a bunch of expert shots that really showed off Blinky’s beautiful gray fur contrasted against my giant belly.

She explained that plenty of regulations are in place to protect the koalas. They only "work" 30 minutes a day and get every third day off. I expect that’s an order of magnitude greater than what they “work” in the wild. This is especially true when you consider that koalas sleep 18–20 hours a day to conserve energy and are primarily nocturnal.¹³

I got my pictures and am glad I got to hold Blinky. He was super sweet. But now I’m conflicted.

After my koala encounter, we checked out the rest of the sanctuary. Despite its name, they actually care for a range of animals—kangaroos, wallabies, emus, dingoes, crocodiles, birds of prey, sheep, pigs, and goats.¹⁴ You can feed the kangaroos, but we didn’t. It sounds kind of fun in theory, but in practice, it's like being in a petting zoo designed for the world ofMad Max.¹⁵ Kangaroos are strong and have no concept of personal space. They’ll mug you for a handful of pellets faster than you can say “crikey.”

Further out in a newly built habitat, we saw our first Tasmanian devil, a.k.a. Australia's angriest sock puppet or goth teddy bear. It took us a loooooong while to find it, but we finally did. It was careening around its habitat like a furry pinball with anger management issues. It looked like a small dog with the muscles of a pit bull. Despite its size, it is the largest carnivorous marsupial in the world, claiming the crown when its cousin, the thylacine, went extinct in 1936.¹⁶

Part banshee, part garbage disposal, and all attitude, big-balled devils are known for their pungent odor, disturbing screech, and feeding ferocity. They can run up to 8 miles an hour and have one of the strongest bite forces in the animal kingdom. They’re not all that picky, either. They’ll hunt live prey or just eat dead things. They are living proof that sometimes the best things come in small, terrifying packages.

We also checked out the platypus, an animal that's typically near impossible to see in the wild because they're shy, nocturnal, and frequently under water. These little weirdos sure seem like the result of a Create Your Own Animal Adventure gone sideways. It was as if, late on the sixth day, an admittedly tired God looked at his pile of remaining parts, threw them together, and called it a day. Ta-da! The platypus!

This egg-laying, duck-billed, beaver-tailed, otter-footed mammal is so bizarre that when European scientists first saw one preserved in 1799, they indignantly declared it a hoax. And not a very good one, at that.

But wait, there's more! Not content with merely looking crazy, the platypus decided to up the ante by becoming one of the few venomous mammals. Yup, these adorable little weirdos are packing heat. The males have a venomous spur on their hind legs that can cause excruciating pain that lasts for literally months. So never assume that just because something looks ridiculous, it's not dangerous.¹⁷

Standing there with my nose against the aquarium glass, I wondered if platypuses (platypi? platypodes?) occasionally looked up at the other animals and thought, “What a freak”?

On the boat ride back, Captain Flula, the entertainer, serenaded us with his unique gay disco version of Waltzing Matilda. Or half of it, anyway. His PA system lost power within minutes of leaving the sanctuary, so we had a pretty quiet ride back to town.

There's one thing about Australia—it's simultaneously exactly what you expect and nothing like you imagined. It's where you can start your day in a bustling city and end it by cuddling a koala. Where the wildlife is so diverse and bizarre that you half expect to see a unicorn casually grazing next to the road. And where, despite the numerous creatures that can kill you, you feel strangely, wonderfully alive.

Are you going to Brisbane? The Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary is worth six hours of your day, so do it. But maybe remember the sunscreen.