Working at home permanently can sometimes become dreary, particularly in the middle of winter - alone, locked inside, cold, and worried about how I'm going to afford the soaring costs of electricity which is needed to heat a draughty cottage.
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But on days like this, this spectacular last day of August 2022, when the sun is shining and it's warm enough to work from my verandah, I feel blessed. Along with my loyal Shetland sheepdog, I am accompanied by bird song - mostly squawking galahs and rosellas, but occasionally a caroling magpie, butcher bird or currawong - and a koala sleeping in a tree not 12 metres away from me.
I am frequently told how lucky I am to have koalas in my backyard, and they do visit frequently.
We are coming into koala breeding season, which means sleep can often be broken by the sound of a bellowing male koala or a squealing female close by. (If you were camping at night and heard a bellowing koala for the first time, not knowing what it was, you'd most likely freeze in fear and then promptly pack and skedaddle out of there as fast as humanly possible, thinking it was some kind of unknown beast ... a BIG one.)
But I don't mind my sleep being disturbed by loud koalas, even though I'm a lousy sleeper at the best of times. It comforts me, knowing they are there.
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Koalas are treasured in the tiny village of Tinonee, where I live (and now work) on the Mid Coast of NSW, Biripi Country. We see them often in trees lining the streets and in our backyards. The public school has it's own little 'koala forest', where koala feed trees have been planted to complement the ones already there, and a watering station for koalas to drink from, installed during the drought which preceded the Black Summer bushfires.
The fires. No-one in Tinonee forgets November 8, 2019, when we all got an emergency text telling us to leave now, to evacuate. The Hillville fire came right to the edges of Tinonee, but our local RFS brigade saved our village.
In the aftermath, in all the various roiling emotions, there was worry for our koalas, as Kiwarrak State Forest, part of our koala corridor, was a blackened moonscape.
When reports of koala sightings in the village started appearing on the local community Facebook page, there was rejoicing.
Nearly one year later the WWF released a report they had commissioned which stated there was 'likely 100 per cent loss' of koalas in Kirrawak State Forest as a result of the bushfires.
Residents then were dismayed and expressed grief on social media when local television stations reported, without checking facts, there were no koalas left alive in the Kiwarrak ARKS (Area of Regional Koala Significant), when the report was released.
However the local koala rescue organisation, Koalas in Care, and the Forestry Corporation of NSW, both knew the report was untrue.
Yes, a lot of our koalas perished in the fires, or later as a result of injuries. And yes, the Black Summer bushfires contributed to the devastating declaration of koalas now being an endangered species.
But here, thankfully, they still have a haven, we still see them often.
However, we, I, never take them for granted.
They can interrupt my sleep with their noisy sex lives as often as they want. I like knowing we still have them.
Julia Driscoll
Julia Driscoll has worked as a journalist for the Wingham Chronicle and Manning River Times since 2014. She values the deep connection with community that being a rural and regional journalist brings.
Julia Driscoll has worked as a journalist for the Wingham Chronicle and Manning River Times since 2014. She values the deep connection with community that being a rural and regional journalist brings.
