Jungle Fever

What most people know about the koala is that it’s not a bear but a marsupial, like a possum or a kangaroo, characterised by its pouch for housing their joeys. It was the colonialists who spotted a similarity to bears, which surely begs the question as to whether they had ever seen a bear close up or just far, far away. Because koala’s are small, tree dwelling fur-balls who, rather boringly, sleep for up to 18 hours a day. Then they invariably eat eucalyptus leaves for their remaining five to six hours of the day, before falling asleep again. These guys turn sloth into an art form.

You can hold a koala at the Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary, on the border of Queensland and New South Wales, near the beaches on the Gold Coast. The place is a bit like Jurassic Park, shepherding tourists on a miniature train through giant birdcages, animal themed adventure parks and seats fashion from giant plastic crocodiles. Audio guides blurt out information from speakers hidden amongst the bushes. I’m not completely sold on the idea, especially considering the number of, say, lorikeets and parrots you can see just walking down the streets. In fact, head up to North Queensland and you can see most of these animals, albeit outside of their cages and not quite in such a family friendly environment: crocodiles aren’t penned in to makeshift fences but free to devour lagoon-dwelling tourists; tall red kangaroos leap into passing vehicles; a small wallaby, grazing in the bush, might suddenly find itself grappled into the talons of a passing eagle. Yes, Queensland is a wild place. This glorified zoo sanitises danger, like a visitors room at a high security prison, only with better coffee.

Having said that, the Australians are fierce on conservationism, and the sanctuary are currently raising money for their wildlife hospital appeal. It costs $600,000 a year to run the hospital, treating up to 30 animals a day, and they’re planning to build a new one to meet up with the increasing demand of troubled wildlife. The effects of their work can be seen across the park, like their wedge-tailed eagles, who can no longer fly after being rescued from a roadside accident. They’re one of the largest birds of prey in the world with a wingspan of over 7ft, but they would have otherwise been discarded due to their injuries. The sanctuary also provide homes for a number of endangered species which, tragically, will undoubtedly die out during our lifetime. A disheartening thought, especially considering the tree-kangaroo, which is a small, auburn coloured creature with an elongated tail and an astoundingly blasé approach to heights. They can survive a fall of around 60ft, which is quite baffling, but they can’t quite counter the growing effects of habitat loss from deforestation.

They have Tasmanian devils there, too, although being expert scavengers, they’re quite hard to spot. These dog-like, meat-eating animals were considered a pest and hunted into the 1940s, but now face an even larger threat to their existence: the devil facial tumour disease, a form of cancer which only effect these little creatures and, as yet, has no known cure. But the sanctuary are working on this, which is just as well: the disease has allegedly caused a 50% decline in numbers and, since 2009, the Tasmanian devil has been placed on the world’s most endangered species list, something which increases every single day.

From July 2008, it became compulsory for those migrants under the age of 30 who were wishing to extend their work visas to Australia to undergo three months (88 days) of specified regional employment. The initiative, in theory, helps local businesses with an affordable and constant stream of labour to help meet the high demands of peak seasons, especially on farms where, in northern Queensland, everything from cherry tomatoes to figs, grapes, peppers, bananas, macadamia nuts and sugar cane all thrive in lush, abundant fields. Crops are harvested in huge numbers, or intensively farmed inside greenhouses promising fresh produce all year round, and once picked they are then packed and shipped to outlets across the continent. Here, in Bundaberg, the city relies on the land for the majority of its employment: from the many local farms which surround the region and the coastline, to the huge sugar plantations which help to produce the region’s best known export, rum.

But not everyone is in agreement that the new visa scheme works, particularly the backpackers themselves, who often feel exploited and forced to work in somewhat undesirable conditions. I’ve heard stories of terrible living quarters, where suffering employees are too scared to complain unless they lose their minimum wage, to anecdotal evidence of workers dying of dehydration in sheds where, during the sizzling summer months, temperatures can reach over 50 degrees. But the farmers aren’t happy, either, and who can blame them: those under 30 and looking for a second year in Australia are usually university educated or gap year students whose history of manual labour was when they once worked part time on the cash desk at Dixons. They don’t want to be there, which only acts to frustrate the land owners even more. I’ve spent this week working intermittently on the Marcon family plantation, where capsicums and courgettes are picked, priced and packaged for shipment to locations like Sydney and Melbourne, and the motto here seems to be, “however fast you think you’re working, work faster.”

It’s repetitive, draining at times, but the husband and wife who run the farm are adamant that they will not be employing backpackers. The workforce is predominantly made up of locals from the Bundaberg area, both male and female, young and old, creating a communal atmosphere and hard work ethic that I’m sure is lacking on the other farms. Alan, 17, works here full time, along with many of his co-workers, and when he’s not lifting crates of green peppers he’s surfing or riding his BMX. He is following in a family tradition which has forever been a staple of the lives of the people in northern Queensland, steeped in a respect for the land and the fortunes that it brings. So it’s small wonder that when I tell Alan that I’m from England, he replies, “English, eh? Well, we don’t get many backpackers here.” The Marcons have set a precedent in which I’m sure many other local farmers will follow if migration into the country continues to increase.

For further evidence of Australian’s stern conservationism, just look at Prime Minister Kevin Rudd’s decision to take Japan to the International Court of Justice for their continued whaling in the Antarctic, whose seas have long since been declared as a whale sanctuary. In their defence, the Japanese are allegedly hunting for ‘scientific’ purposes, rather than commercial. Quite what ‘scientific’ reasons these are will be made clear when the countries meet in The Hague, although justifying the deaths of over 2,000 whales a year won’t be easy: unless these scientific reasons extend to building a giant Frankenstein’s sea monster for some kind of covert military operation, reanimated with the head of a dolphin, the tail of a thousand tuna fish and all fashioned out of condemned orca bits.

That’s a disturbing image, but Japan are keen to defend the barbaric practice on traditional hunting lines, while ordinary Australians think that the mammals should just be given a break. The fact that the decision was one of Rudd’s 2007 campaign promises has met with some derision from the local press, who see its fulfilment as a piece of savvy politicising considering that Rudd will be fighting for re-election later in the year. And what if Australia lose the battle in court? It’s unlikely, but embarrassing nonetheless.


AU Tube: Understanding Australian TV
‘State of Origin: New South Wales v. Queensland’ (Win TV)

Wednesday saw the first of three big ‘football’ (read: rugby) matches between these two giant states of Rugby League, which is disproportionately popular here on the east coast, to the extent where normally placid and well-meaning Australians lose their minds for 80 minutes, screaming at the television and shouting obscenities. I know this to be true after watching the game in a house in Queensland, where every crunching tackle and physical exertion is met with a loud and patriotic yelp. The State of Origin games are a big deal, where every year rugby players forgo their club colours in favour of the state from which they were born, thus creating an almost tribal encounter which seems to garner more national pride (and division in equal measure) than when they play for the national team. So you would think that they could come up with more flattering names for the sides: NSW are the Cockroaches, QLD are called the Cane Toads.

But Queensland are clearly the better team, which helps, winning albeit not particularly comfortably, just like they have done for the previous four years. It was a great game, and I don’t even particularly follow rugby, but it is a shame that commercial station Win TV (or Channel 9) seem so eager to promote Ford’s half year sale that they even show their adverts during the game. Granted, this only happens when play stops after a try, but such trigger happy commercialism reminds me of watching TV in America, which is perhaps the closest equivalent to looking after a hyperactive child.