6.3.11 – In search of the illusive Wombat

Bill with Grace, the baby Koala

Meg with a young kangaroo

6.3.11 – In search of the illusive Wombat

I want to see a Wombat!  Everywhere there are road signs – yellow diamonds shaped ones, warning of ‘Wombats for 6km’ and carrying a fetching drawing of the animal.  Asking if they are an endangered species, I am met with disbelief.  Apparently more or less everyone has had one in their garden, and/or run into one on the road and/or seen one running about at the side of the motorway.  But not me.  All efforts to espy one have failed so far.  Every time we drive here and there at dusk, I glue myself to the car window in what I refer to as ‘Wombat Watch’.  I have seen their burrows – large round holes down which you could easily fit a football.  I have found out that they have heavy bony bottoms that they use to attack predators (the mind boggles).  I have seen drawings, photos and cartoons of them.  I have even seen a dead one.  Geoff and Fran spotted it and obligingly turned the car around and drove back to let me have closer look.  I noticed they still parked a good distance away.  I soon found out why.  Deceased wombat which has been baked in the Australian sun has a memorable fragrance.  Nothing daunted, I still approached and studied it – from upwind.  It was about the size of a medium dog, dark brown fur, large ‘shovel’ type feet, like a mole but bigger, and a blunt nose.  This was all I could identify before the aroma won the day and I returned to the car, taking altogether too much of it with me.  It had more or less worn off by the time we got back to Picton.  But no live Wombat awaited my return.

Cassowary

Kangaroo with Joey

Today, George and Moira, no doubt fed up with me badgering – or wombatting – them, suggested going to a wildlife park to see one.  We saw Koala Bears which are not bears at all, but are very soft and sweet – grey fur, tiny brown eyes, fluffy ears, long black claws.  They are apparently closely related to the Wombat – without being a Wombat, which they aren’t.  They sleep for 22 hours per day, balanced casually in clefts in gum trees.  We saw kangaroos, so tame you could feed and stroke them.  One had a Joey in her pouch, who popped his head out now and again and peered at us with his little black eyes.  We saw Cassowarys, somewhat scary, with long, thick, scaly legs, two toes and one claw, technicolour neck and head and impressive bony crest, not forgetting the ferocious beak, and emus, frankly not likely to win any beauty contest and altogether too friendly given their sharp brown beaks that they poked through the fence.  And we saw the Wombat’s enclosure.  But not the Wombat.  Betty was asleep and not seeing guests today, thank you very much.  Not even guests from Scotland whom she had been told to expect.  Ah well.  Wombat Watch continues. .