THOUGH the first days of the young Koala's existence were passed in very much the same manner as those of the young Possum, he was not carried in the pouch until he was able to take care of himself. He was only a little fellow, and no bigger than an active kitten. He was, however, well covered with light grey fur when his mother hoisted him on to the back of her shoulders, and gave him to understand that he had to stop there and hold tight. She, of course, could not climb and reach for gum leaves and hold him at the same time.
At first he thought "piggy back" was fine fun. When she crept out of the big hollow knob that was her home, and walked along a slender limb a hundred feet from the ground, he dug his sharp nails in with fear.
It was a cold starlit night. Possums were feeding in the same tree, and Squirrels darted through the air a little way off with peculiar cries. He glanced timidly at them from time to time, but he was so much taken up with the danger of his position, that he could give little attention to anything else. The mother moved with slow, deliberate steps; nevertheless every movement made him fancy he was going to fall. Learning to ride in such a situation seemed a foolhardy undertaking. Indeed, it was absolutely dangerous.
Certainly, the mother ran no risk of falling; the great grasping power of her claws precluded that. Numbers of her kind, when they had been wantonly shot by settlers, had cheated their slayers by hanging under the limb in death as a Sloth hangs in life.
Perching herself in a small fork, the mother Koala grasped a branchlet in her hand, and, for some minutes, munched the juicy leaves. Then she retraced her steps, and started down the perpendicular trunk of the tree for the ground. It was a fortunate circumstance that she descended backwards. In this respect, the Koala differed from the Possums, Dasyures, and other Australian arboreal animals--with the exception of the Boongarry, or Tree Kangaroo. Still, Booraby, the youngster, was mightily uncomfortable. Clinging tightly to the dense fur of his mother, and looking anxiously from side to side as she dropped lower and lower, he scarcely breathed until the long, slow descent was accomplished.
On the ground, he could ride with ease and confidence. Like a little boy who has got over his initial fears on the back of a pony, he even wanted to "show off." While she dug for succulent roots, he partly sat up and scratched his ear and his ribs. He had more leisure to admire the scenery, and to notice what was going on about him.
Madam Koala moved along the edge of a narrow belt of scrub that lined the river bank. It was, to him, a pleasure excursion, full of interest, for there were many other creatures abroad. The frisky Possums, with their gambollings and chasings, their squeaks and purring chatter; the Squirrels, with their sudden flights and squeals; and the night birds calling overhead, enlivened the passing hours. Boo, the Bandicoot, was busily rooting about in the grass. Murura, the Red-necked Wallaby, was clipping the tender herbage. Just inside a fence which they came to after a couple of hours' ramble, Parrimalla, the Scrub Wallaby, was enjoyably nipping down a patch of young corn.
She did not go through the fence, but turned out into the forest. She knew the thieves would be hunted with guns and dogs, for she had seen it happen many a time while she had been squatting' quietly in an adjacent tree. She knew the farmer was also unfriendly to her, though there was nothing he could say against her. She never stole anything, and she never harmed anybody. Quiet and inoffensive, she asked for nothing but wild roots and the leaves of her native trees. Besides, she was one of the most attractive features in the bush. But there was no accounting for the actions of man. He turned his murderous hand equally against Kogra, the Echidna, and Duckbill, the Platypus, although they were not only as inoffensive as herself, but did good service for him in their unobtrusive ways. It had been a good world to live in before man had come, but now the struggle for existence was bitterly hard. Even when he did not directly molest her kind, he drove them before him by destroying every tree that nature had provided for their subsistence.
A deep snort overhead suddenly disturbed her meditations. Looking up, Booraby espied father Koala sitting in a small box tree. He had not seen much of his father, for that worthy was not very fond of society. He was often promenading about in the daytime, or drowsily sitting in some forked branch where daylight happened to find him. Nevertheless, Mrs. Koala, with some idea of asserting her rights, climbed up to him. Beyond a stertorous growl by way of greeting, and a solemn survey of the youngster, he took no notice of them. Externally the couple were alike. Mr. Koala, however, had a couple of white patches on the hind part of his back. Mrs. Koala had not these patches, and, whereas her broad ears were well marked with white, his were margined anteriorally with black. But such marks were mere color variations. One or two of their neighbors, whose donkey-like cries they heard from time to time, were more than half white, whilst others were all grey.
Mrs. Koala brushed her little burden against her mate as she seated herself in a convenient position. Her look and manner were eloquent.
-"I think you ought to hold the baby while I get my supper."
Pa Koala looked at the baby with eyes that plainly said: "Let the little one get down and walk."
She caught the branchlet he was holding and pulled it rudely away. Pa Koala was decidedly vexed. He looked at her a moment as though he had a mind to knock her off the limb. However, he thought better of it, and shifted to another branchlet.
Being a long way from home, and a slow traveller, she left early, whilst he remained in the box tree, quite indifferent to the flight of time. As day was breaking, she climbed back into her nest. Booraby was glad to be home again. He was tired from so much unaccustomed riding, and a little bit stiff from clinging to a perpendicular back whilst he was being carried up and down trees. He rolled off with a sigh of relief, and, after a drink, coiled himself up in his mother's arms and went to sleep.
He had no fears when he went out again. He was quite at home on his mother's back, and enjoyed being carried about among the branches. As he grew older, he plucked some of the leaves within his reach while she was feeding, and, sitting up like a little jockey, munched them with enjoyment. When he was on the ground, he would slip off sometimes and beg for some of the roots she was digging up. He gradually got into the way of scratching for himself. Again, he would dismount on a limb, and either amuse himself by climbing about, or sit beside her and eat off the branchlet she held in her hand.
His next step was climbing a little way up the trunks and backing down again. Occasionally, she climbed a sapling without him, and when he was able to follow her successfully she showed a disinclination to carry him any further. When he seemed tired, or the climb was a stiff one, and he cried and whimpered like a child, she would, as a favor, put him on her back. But by-and-bye he cried in vain. There was no more "piggy-back" for Booraby; he had grown too large and heavy for those baby habits, and must now walk.
One morning, when he would have followed her into the hollow as usual, he was refused admittance. The bedroom was too small for both, and, as he was more restless and less regular in his hours of repose than the female sex, she complained that, with his fidgeting and scratching, she could not get her proper day's rest.
Day found him sitting disconsolately on the doorstep. He was dozing off when some Kingfishers and Magpie Larks discovered him. They made sport of him, and flew at him and pecked him. Indeed, they made such a disturbance, that no nocturnal creature in the neighborhood could get a wink of sleep. Booraby, ordinarily of a gentle disposition, was stirred into a fit of passion by their persecution. He warded the attacks with his hands as well as he could, and made a vengeful grab now and again as an incautious tormentor flew closely in front of him. His strong teeth snapped hard together like a steel trap when one darted just over his nose. He was forced at last to seek shelter. Over the roof of his old domicile was a thick cluster of foliage, and under that he hid himself.
The seat was as smooth as glass, and showed that another form had been wont to rest there. It suited him very well through the remainder of the warm weather. About the end of autumn, his father claimed it, and he was compelled again to seek fresh lodgings. Thereafter, he did not care much where he slept. Usually, if day did not surprise him in an uncongenial neighborhood, he sought a comfortable fork very high up from the ground. Though in the open, he was not easily discovered as long as he sat tight and remained quiet. He was wise enough to do this if there was an enemy in sight, for his color harmonized well with the grey and white of the gum trees. Unlike the Possum, the Flying Squirrel, and other arboreal animals that were most active at night, he rarely sought the seclusion of a hollow by day. Essentially an open-air creature, he found that almost any place at all suited him for a bedchamber.
Wet, windy days in such exposed positions were unpleasant. However, the cold did not affect him, for he was encased in a thick, tough skin which was covered with soft fur that was fairly long and dense. His ears were of moderate size, but as they were covered thickly with hairs two inches long, they looked large and rounded. His nose was black and prominent; his hands and feet were large and white. The hands were composed of two sets of fingers; the two innermost were opposed to the three outer, and all were armed with big, curved claws. The toes, excepting the innermost, were similarly armed. The exception was nailless, and placed in the same position and used in the same manner as the human thumb.
Though admirably fitted for climbing, he was tardy in his movements. He made certain of each hold as he went along; slow but sure. From this fact, some of the first white men who saw him named him Native Sloth. He was afterwards generally called Native Bear.
Sign in to unlock this title
Sign in to continue reading, it's free! As an unregistered user you can only read a little bit.
