As hookup sites go, it was in another league. I was looking for a different kind of soulmate and I was spoilt for choice. Would it be Floyd, “a stylish poser and a winner of hearts”? Or Bobby, “who loves cuddling and is a bit of a showoff”? Or could it be the “beautiful and incredibly sweet Morris with a gentle nature”? One stood out. Not only was he “very affectionate” but he was also “a bit of a troublemaker – always exploring and often found sitting on the rocks”. Just what I was looking for; I swiped right. That’s how I met Jarrah. My koala.
A month before, in 2020, I’d seen a newsflash about the bushfires in Australia. The effect on the continent’s wildlife was devastating. An estimated 61,000 koalas had been killed or injured among 143 million other native mammals. There were two things I felt I could do from the UK: one was to make koala mittens to protect their burnt paws (following a pattern I found online); and two, I could adopt a koala and send monthly donations to protect them in the wild. So I joined the Australian Koala Foundation, which is dedicated to the marsupials’ survival.
I was sent an adoption certificate featuring Jarrah, which I stuck on my kitchen wall. For the next two years, I followed his progress – he was one of a handful of koalas kept in a wildlife sanctuary near Perth. In January 2023, during a trip to Western Australia, I finally met him. The park rangers, who told me I was one of the few “koala mums” to have visited, seemed excited to see me. Jarrah not so much. My first view of him was asleep on his perch – not surprising, as koalas are flat out for up to 21 hours a day. He was a lot bigger than I’d expected; definitely not soft-toy size, but quite bear-like.
Koala “experiences” – a meet and greet – are strictly regulated, as the animals get easily stressed. Even so, I didn’t quite get the welcome I’d been hoping for. After Jarrah was lifted from his perch, still half-asleep, he bit me. It was a reminder that although koalas look cute, they are wild animals and not pets (these are symbolic adoptions). But it was just a small nip, and a minute later all was forgotten when Jarrah allowed me to stroke him. I was told I could pat him gently, though not on the top of his head. He particularly liked being rubbed between his shoulders. I followed him when he crawled around on all four paws in a surprisingly nimble fashion. I also witnessed some playground politics when another koala, Kai, who was put out that Jarrah was getting all the attention, tried to shove him off his perch.
‘Very affectionate’ but also ‘a bit of a troublemaker’: Jarrah. Photograph: Courtesy of Mel Bradman
It was at this moment, while I was standing between the two of them, that I remembered something I had forgotten had existed. As a child, I was besotted with koalas after being given a cuddly version on my fifth birthday. I preferred it to any of my other toys (and there was some tough competition). I remember thinking then what a great adventure it would be to be stuck up a tree with him. Now, when I think of Jarrah, I am instantly connected to my first “happy place” – cynicism and discontent go out the window. It doesn’t quite send me dancing into the sunset, but it reminds me how a bit of childhood joie de vivre can put a spring in your step, even as an adult.
During my time with Jarrah (named after a native tree), I learned a lot about these extraordinary two-thumbed creatures, which are believed to have evolved more than 25m years ago. “Koala” is an aboriginal word for “no water” – they get just about all the moisture they need from eucalyptus leaves. And the reason they sleep so much? Because it takes all their energy to digest and detoxify the leaves. Plus, they are fussy eaters and can only eat a few of the hundred species of eucalyptus that grow in Australia, so their habitats are very limited.
I found out how vulnerable koalas are; not just from climate crisis and disease, but from the excessive land clearing and development that bulldozes their trees, leaving them homeless. Despite being made a protected species in 1937, after millions were shot for the fur trade, there is still no law to protect their habitat and they are now listed as endangered.
Kai (left) tries to shove Jarrah off his perch. Photograph: Courtesy of Mel Bradman
I have always cared about animal welfare, but the time I spent with Jarrah took it to the next level. Of course, koalas aren’t the only endangered species, and though I can’t help them all, I wanted to do more. So I signed up to other animal charities and volunteered in their shops, clocking up 80 miles for an RSPCA-sponsored run, and extending my menagerie by adopting more creatures – some exotic, others closer to home. I now have a gorilla, a donkey, farm animals, a pangolin, two guide dogs and another koala (Colt, in Queensland – “an endearing little sweetheart, gifted at enjoying the simple pleasures of life”). If friends want cat-sitting, dog-walking or need a pet taken to the vet, I’m there on speed-dial.
Even though it was a fleeting encounter, and Jarrah never wrote, never called and remained enigmatic, I have much to thank him for. He opened my eyes, not only to something important I’d forgotten about myself, but to a much bigger picture.
