In the last week of July, I visited Australia for the third time in three years, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to say goodbye each time I leave. This thirty-five-day trip combined business and research with vacation time at the end, during which Brian joined me in Tasmania for a ten-day, 1,100-kilometer driving tour to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary. The trip was filled with unforgettable memories, both joyful and challenging, but as with all good things, it eventually came to an end. Three weeks ago, I returned home, and the realities of everyday life have set in. However, I have also had the opportunity to reflect on this incredible journey.
The primary reason for my visit was to attend the bi-annual wildlife conference in Canberra. I saw this as a prime opportunity to promote Hannah’s Call to Care and to network with wildlife rescuers outside of my usual social circle, who might be interested in participating in research for Guardians Down Under. However, since I was making the long trip anyway, I decided to take advantage of the time to reconnect with friends I had seen last year and explore places I hadn’t had a chance to visit on previous trips.
I flew to Melbourne, where my friend Cybil Kaufmann arrived from Adelaide to meet me. Together, we took the train to Dunkeld to visit a mutual friend, Pam Turner, who works at the Wildwood Wildlife Shelter in the Grampians Mountains. This visit was particularly meaningful for us because Cybil and Pam had been friends for many years but had never met in person. Additionally, I had visited Pam last year, and since then, she had tragically been affected by devastating bushfires, which forced her and her 13 kangaroo joeys to evacuate. I wanted to check in and see how she was adjusting.
Upon my arrival, one of the first things I did was give an interview for It’s Life Magazine. A journalist from Sydney wanted to share my story about my fascination with Australian wildlife and the inspiration behind my book, *Hannah’s Call To Care*. That article will be published on October 20th for their November edition.
After the interview, Cybil and I spent a day and a half with Pam. Although it wasn’t a lot of time, it was enough for us to catch up without imposing, especially considering that Pam’s life was still quite hectic due to the aftermath of the bushfires. We wanted to ensure we didn’t overstay our welcome.
During our visit, we stayed at the wonderful Griffins Hill Yoga Retreat in Dunkeld, about a 30-minute drive from Pam’s shelter. I had stayed there last year when I visited Pam and was impressed by the friendliness of the owners, Frank and Jane, along with their delicious food, amazing atmosphere, and comfortable accommodations. I was thrilled that they offered us a place to stay again. Although I’m not into yoga and don’t know much about it, I would encourage anyone interested in yoga retreats to check out their studio. More information can be found on their website: https://griffinshill.com.au/about-us.
After our short stay in the Grampian Mountains, Cybil and I returned to Melbourne. Cybele flew home, and I began the second part of my adventure. I spent a few days in the Melbourne area with my friend Trish Rothville. Although Trish is not involved in wildlife rescue—having met in 2019 on a tour of Tuscany, Italy—she loves and respects wildlife and has been a great friend. Last year, she chauffeured me all over the greater Melbourne area to visit native animals and see various sights. This year was no different.
One day, she drove me to the Dingo Discovery Sanctuary Research and Education Centre in Gisborne, which is about a forty-five-minute ride from her home. Here, we had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one of the local dingoes and take an amazing tour of the facility, where we admired the 40 dingo residents from afar. In addition to seeing these incredible animals, three volunteers gave us a detailed tour and educated us about the dingoes, highlighting how misunderstood they are.
One of the highlights of the tour—and my trip—was the chance to play with four dingo pups, about six weeks old. These pups were bred for the purpose of being sent to other zoos and sanctuaries, so it’s important to begin socializing them early. For 45 minutes, Trish, the three volunteers, and I watched the pups run, jump, and play while receiving all the attention, love, and kisses we could handle. I hadn’t realized that playing with dingo pups was on my bucket list until it happened.
The dingo sanctuary is open to the public with advanced reservations. If you are in the Melbourne area and are interested, you can find more information on their website.
After visiting the dingo sanctuary, Trish drove to Raymond Island, a 4.5-hour, 300-kilometer drive. There, I spent the day with the fantastic volunteers at the Raymond Island Koala Hospital (KoRI). This volunteer-based organization specializes in rescuing, caring for, and rehabilitating sick and injured koalas, and raising joeys until they are mature enough to survive on their own in the wild.
During my visit, I had the opportunity to see a male koala named Dexter from a distance. He was being treated after being violently attacked by a dog. Sadly, I learned upon my return that he succumbed to his injuries and had to be euthanized. I also participated in some of the less enjoyable tasks, such as cleaning up, collecting, and weighing koala droppings.
Since my visit was on a Sunday, I was able to observe their weekly ritual of weighing the koalas. Under the close supervision of trained volunteers, I was able to “hold” several of the koala joeys in care. To prevent these animals from becoming too humanized, the volunteers use teddy bears that resemble their mothers in both feel and appearance. With the assistance of these teddy bears, I was able to hold several koala joeys. One of the joeys I met during my visit was Jazmine, who is featured in the blog post.
Like many wildlife rescue organizations, the Koala Hospital receives no government funding; all of their support comes from private donations. If you are interested in helping with the wonderful work they do, you can find more information on their Facebook page: [Koalas of Raymond Island](https://www.facebook.com/koalasofraymondisland/).
After our delightful excursion to Raymond Island, I flew to Canberra, ready for the much-anticipated wildlife conference. Though the demanding nature of rescue work often makes it tricky for people to carve out extended time away, an impressive crowd of 130 passionate individuals gathered from every corner of Australia to share knowledge and insights.
At first, I was apprehensive about spending three full days inundated with lectures and presentations, fearing it might be overwhelming. However, to my sheer delight, the experience turned out to be nothing short of amazing. The lineup of speakers was diverse and captivating, featuring a distinguished panel of veterinarians alongside mental health professionals who tackled the critical themes of burnout and the significance of self-care.
Moreover, there were experts specializing in birds and reptiles, who opened up an entirely new world for me, revealing fascinating details about creatures beyond my usual focus on koalas and macropods. Each presentation was like a window into the lives of these incredible animals, enriching my understanding and appreciation of wildlife as a whole. Overall, it was a truly wonderful and enriching experience that left a lasting impact on my perspective.
While I was in Canberra, I had the wonderful opportunity to stay with my friend Frances Carleton, a therapist and founder of Wildtalk, an employee assistance program that provides mental health services to the wildlife community. I will admit that the low point of my trip occurred while in Canberra. I was staying with a friend who has three pythons, and I am absolutely horrified of snakes. Nevertheless, I put my fear of snakes aside because I figured the alone time with Frances would be beneficial for my research. However, she has three pythons, and I am HORRIFIED of snakes. I specifically asked her if I should be worried about her snakes being loose in the house. She confirmed that all three of her pythons were secured in their individual enclosures. Despite this reassurance, ten minutes later, Frances happened to look up and noticed that one of her snakes, Dexter, was lying on the bookcase—well outside the confines of his enclosure. As I go running into the guest bedroom and lock the door until she confirms that she has returned him to his home, she realized that her dog had chewed the top of the snake’s container and the snake managed to escape—the first time in the eight years that she had had Dexter that had happened. Despite that trauma I survived in one piece , but still not a fan of snakes. I appreciate their role in the ecosystem—as long as I don’t have to cross paths with them closely.
After my enlightening stay in Canberra, I traveled to Wagga Wagga, New South Wales, where I was warmly welcomed by my friends, John Palmer and his wife, Dianne Lain. Their home, nestled in the picturesque Australian landscape, served as a refuge for a remarkable group of animals. At that time, they were caring for 15 adorable macropod joeys, each with its unique personality and charm.
During my two-night visit, I eagerly participated in their daily routines, helping to feed the tiny joeys with bottles filled with specially formulated milk, a critical part of their care. I also took on the responsibility of cleaning their living area, ensuring it was both hygienic and comfortable for the little ones. One of the most memorable experiences was witnessing John and Dianne’s care for an adult kangaroo that had suffered from blister-like injuries on its legs. In a well-coordinated manner, one of them gently sedated the kangaroo while the other meticulously cleaned the wounds, applying the necessary dressings with a level of professionalism that spoke to their expertise and compassion for these animals.
Among the group of kangaroo joeys, there was a particularly spirited wallaroo joey named Will. Unlike the kangaroo joeys who were taller and leaner, Will was smaller and stockier, embodying the unique characteristics of his species. I had never been so close to a wallaroo before, and he quickly won my heart with his playful antics. On two delightful occasions while I was feeding a kangaroo joey, Will unexpectedly bounded into my lap, knocking the bottle from my hand as he playfully demanded my attention. It was a heartwarming interaction, bringing me even closer to the enchanting wildlife that Australia has to offer.
What I found particularly intriguing about John and Dianne’s approach to wildlife rehabilitation was their “hard release” method to returning animals to the wild. Unlike many wildlife carers who gradually ease animals away from human interaction, John and Dianne believed in a more immediate transition. When the time was right and they felt the animals had the skills necessary to survive in the wild, they would sedate the animals and transport them to a safe release site located on their sprawling 45-acre farm, about 45 minutes from their home. Although I didn’t witness the release process firsthand, they took me on a trip to their property, where we spent hours exploring the bushland, spotting signs of wildlife. John and Dianne shared their hope and pride as we looked for kangaroos and wallaroos that they believed were once joeys they had cared for. It was a day filled with wonder, deepening my appreciation for their dedication to the well-being and future of these remarkable creatures.
After my brief yet enlightening visit with John and Dianne, I made my way back to the Dutch Thunder Wildlife Shelter in Koonoomoo, Victoria, where Kylee Donkers and James Leonard dedicated their hearts to the care of wildlife. My previous stay with them had left a lasting impression, and I returned with a renewed sense of purpose, largely fueled by Kylee’s unwavering support and guidance, which had been instrumental in inspiring me to write “Hannah’s Call to Care.”
Kylee’s love for wildlife extends beyond the shelter; she actively engages with local kindergarteners, educating them about the crucial importance of wildlife preservation. During my last visit, we visited a lively school, where the children and I collaboratively created a charming book that celebrated the unique creatures of Australia. This experience ignited a spark in me—if Australia was to embrace the cultural shift necessary to protect its endangered species, it had to start with educating the young generation.
With Kylee’s insights shaping my writing process, she graciously read through several drafts of my book, ensuring every detail was both accurate and resonant. During my three-day visit, we explored two kindergartens, including a remarkable bush kindergarten. Here, children spent one day a week immersed in nature, learning about the environment in the fresh air rather than confined to four walls. Their laughter mingled with the rustling leaves as they discovered the wonders of the natural world around them.
The following day, we delivered a signed copy of “Hannah’s Call to Care” to the local library, where I made a heartfelt promise to return for a book reading on my next trip to Australia. Our adventure continued with an interview for the local newspaper, shining a spotlight on my book, “Hannah’s Call to Care,” and “Guardians Down Under,” as well as the deepening friendship Kylee and I had nurtured over the years through our shared passion for wildlife and storytelling.
Finally, we visited the Bluebird Cobram Kindergarten, where I had the joy of reading aloud a few pages from “Hannah’s Call to Care” to an eager group of children. Their wide eyes and curious faces reflected a growing fascination with the stories of the wild, reinforcing our mission to inspire young hearts to advocate for the creatures that share our planet.
Following my brief but impactful visit with Kylee and James, I embarked on a flight to Hobart, where I dedicated my weekend to engaging with passionate advocates who are fervently championing for better legislation to combat the rampant issue of roadkill in Tasmania. Recognized as the roadkill capital of the world, Tasmania faces a troubling dilemma, yet a tireless group of individuals is determined to hold the government accountable and push for essential policy changes to address this disturbing trend.
As part of my research journey, I had the rare opportunity to see a platypus in the wild. A friend of mine knew of a spot where she had seen three out of the four times she visited, so she drove me there. We had spent almost an hour scouring the water, about to give up, when from about 100 meters we heard two people squeal with delight—my friend and I ran over there, and lo and behold, there was a platypus. I knew they were rare, but it was only later that I learned that only 2% of the population has actually had the fortune of seeing one in the wild.
Additionally, I was fortunate enough to witness a truly touching moment: the return of two orphaned pademelon joeys to their natural habitat. Although I had heard countless stories about the delicate and emotional process of rewilding, witnessing it firsthand was nothing short of extraordinary. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as the dedicated rescuers, who had cared for these fragile creatures for several months, gingerly opened the transport box. Holding their breath and biting their lips, they watched as the curious joeys hesitantly hopped out, their tiny bodies shaking with uncertainty as they ventured into the lush undergrowth.
In that fragile moment, we all shared a collective hope—a silent prayer for these little lives to adapt and thrive amidst the wilderness. Wildlife rescuers often remain in the dark regarding the fate of the animals they release, leaving them with nothing but hope and a heavy heart. The reality is that many animals do not survive long enough to find their way back to the wild, making it all the more poignant and rewarding when one does. Each successful return is a victory against the odds, a bittersweet reminder of the resilience of nature and the unwavering spirit of those who fight for its preservation.
The trip was far more than just business; it blossomed into a memorable adventure. After spending three exhilarating weeks in Australia, Brian flew to Hobart to join me, and, to our delight, our friends from Christchurch also made the journey to Hobart to reunite with us. Together, we explored the hauntingly beautiful ruins of the former prison at Port Arthur, where echoes of history seemed to linger in the air. Our adventures continued as we set sail to Bruny Island, savoring the breathtaking landscapes and the tantalizing local cuisine.
Once our friends returned to New Zealand, Brian and I took the opportunity to delve deeper into the wonders of Tasmania. We found ourselves enchanted by the adorable little penguins at Bicheno, their charming antics bringing smiles to our faces. A breathtaking cruise through the pristine waters of Wineglass Bay left us in awe of the stunning coastline, where turquoise waters met golden sands.
Our journey then led us to the picturesque Cradle Mountain National Park, where rugged peaks and tranquil lakes formed an idyllic backdrop for our explorations. Finally, we closed our Tasmanian escapade in the vibrant city of Launceston, reflecting on the unforgettable experiences and the natural beauty we had encountered along the way.
After an intense journey of 35 days—though Brian only joined for 14—the stark realities of life came crashing back. Just ten days into our return, I received the devastating news that no one battling cancer wishes to hear: after 2.5 years of peace in the form of remission, the darkness had returned. This time, it began its insidious crawl into my lungs, lymph nodes, and spine, unfurling its shadow over my life once more.
Now, I stand at a crossroads, uncertain of what lies ahead. The coming weeks promise a whirlwind of doctor appointments and scans, each one a step deeper into the unknown. The weight of potential decisions presses down on me, decisions I had hoped would remain distant for years to come. As for my projects, this setback may slow my momentum, but a friend’s encouraging words resonate like a beacon in this storm: “The wildlife here need you, and so do we all, so hang in there.”
I promise, as long as my health permits, I will continue to fight for the protection of the Australian wildlife that fills my heart with passion and purpose. As one of my favorite journalists, Rachel Maddow, often says, “Watch this space.” The next chapter is unwritten, and I hope to fill it with resilience and bravery.
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