In the poo

Every fortnight I’m in the poo at the zoo – not out of favour with anyone, just involved in a sanitary act of kindness as I go about my duties as a volunteer keeper.

There’s definitely an art to ‘spot picking’, the term used for removing fresh and not so fresh excreta from an area heavily laden with wood chips. The trick is to gently encourage the spherical little terds onto your shovel without bringing bits of bark along for the ride. And don't think once on board, the little green balls will stay put. Like Maltesers rolling down the aisle and marbles responding to a call to “scatter”, roo poo has a mind of its own. Obviously traumatized at the thought of leaving their buddies in various composted forms behind, the bits of bog race down the face of the shovel, hit the lip and become momentarily airborne before landing and scurrying off back under cover in the heavily wooded area.

I’m surely serving my penance for the days when I shot kangaroos on farms during my teenage years. Back then, I was told by country folk that kangaroos were pesky vermin. Today, the mollycoddled macropods have turned the tables and now have me in the crosshairs as they casually chew on restaurant-quality carrots.

So all’s well with the flying kangaroo but it’s the humping koala that needs to be reminded of the Fair Work Act. On my last pooper scooping mission in the fauna exhibit at the zoo, I entered the koala enclosure to clean it up: rake the ground, change the water and fill the feed bins with a fresh pick of gum leaves. A quick in and out job … and that's exactlty what Stanley, the furry little bear in enclosure number five had in mind. No sooner had I completed my mission, and while my back was turned, he leapt from his log and latched onto my ankle. Thinking he was ravenous for a juicy piece of eucalyptus, I waved a branch under his nose and encouraged him to graze. But it was fornication and not food that was on the mind of this surprisingly agile little beast. Using his extended, needle-sharp claws and beak-like mouth, Stanley hooked and humped his way up my leg and torso before finally settling on my shoulder. Other keepers soon came to my assistance and unhinged the randy little critter. I was left bruised and slightly bloodied from the encounter but there was no harm done. I figured perhaps Stanley just wanted a different view of the world.   

Next time you unwrap a caramello koala or are confronted in the main street by Blinky Bill asking for donations, beware!