Next, we pulled into Maru Koala and Fauna Park, where we had a canned photo opportunity with a world-weary koala bear followed by a cafeteria lunch. After lunch, we toured the fauna park. First stop: wombats. Who knew about wombats? They are marsupials who burrow and live underground. As a result, they have downward-facing pouches. See that anus-looking opening between the wombat's legs? That's the opening to the pouch. This wombat, named Tara, seemed resigned to her life in the fauna park, and was happy to pose for pictures as long as we were interested.
Post-wombat, we moved on to the Tasmanian devil. I don't have any pictures of the Tasmanian devil, because he was hiding inside a log. According to the guide, he is very dangerous and can bite through both bones in a person's arm with no problem. Next came the crocodile, who could have been dead for all we know. They don't feed the crocodile during the winter because apparently he stores up food during the other seasons and draws off those resources during the winter months. The crocodile didn't move the whole time we were in the room. On we went, passing by a yard of very sedate dingoes, pictured below. I couldn't help but hear Meryl Streep and her desperate Australian accent in my ear: "The dingo ate my baby!"
We went from the dingos to a couple of very dopey, very enthusiastic emus. Here's a quick video of our experience feeding the emu.
Next we encountered another koala bear. In Victoria (the state where Melbourne is located), it is apparently illegal for people other than animal handlers even to touch a koala bear, so we received a number of stern warnings. The koala seemed almost aware of his fame and untouchability, and possibly a bit drunk on the giant quantity of eucalyptus leaves he was ingesting. He lay on his branch and didn't pay much attention to us. The sign below sort of sums up the koala's attitude toward everyone around him.
But around the corner from the koala bear was the afternoons biggest surprise: kangaroos! The kangaroos were polite, tame, and absolutely delightful. They hop around just like on cartoons, and when you hold out a handful of food, they nuzzle your hand and reach up gently with their two little hands to pull your hand down to their level. In the photos below, you can see their little paws with black claws holding on very gently and carefully. They are possibly the sweetest, cutest animals I have ever seen. We spent the bulk of our time with the kangaroos, who seemed never to tire of our company, whether we were feeding them or scratching them behind the ears. Most of the kangaroos we saw were young, since they grow to be six or seven feet tall. We encountered one very large kangaroo who didn't seem to know his own strength; when he reached up to pull my hand down, he nearly knocked me over. He was taller than I am, and he looked like maybe he worked out. Here is a short video that features a kangaroo hopping, eating out of our hands, and cleverly getting hold of the food bowl and pulling it down to his level.
We said our final goodbyes to the kangaroos, and at last we were on our way to Phillip Island and the sunset Penguin Parade. A.-J. and I enjoyed yet another cute little gift shop and indulged in some penguin and kangaroo paraphernalia, including tiny penguin snowglobes. We splurged and upgraded our tickets to "Penguin Plus" so we could sit closer to the action. I was crushed to learn that there was absolutely no photography allowed near the penguins. It seems that the bright light from flashes hurts the penguins, so to be extra-cautious, the caretakers on Phillip Island outlawed all photography, even video and flash-less cameras. Even though I was disappointed, it couldn't dampen my excitement about finally arriving at the Penguin Parade. I was prepared with my hat, scarf, and gloves, but it didn't turn out to be quite as cold as we had been warned. A.-J. opted not to wear her ridiculous hat, but I wore my own ridiculous hat with pride.
Around 5:45 p.m., we saw the white bellies of the first penguins bobbing in the waves, and then they started to walk up the beach. The pictures below are photographs I bought in the gift shop, and they show exactly how the penguins look as they make their way up the beach and into their burrowed homes. Some of the penguins (the younger ones) walk over a mile to get to their homes. We even encountered a penguin crossing the road as we drove off Phillip Island.
Our island guide had informed us that this is a "false mating season" for the Little Blue (or Fairy) Penguins. Something about the length of the days at this time tricks the penguins into thinking it's time to mate, so they head up to the beach. The guide explained that most penguins are monogamous, but "penguin promiscuity" was not uncommon. That is, if a penguins call out and have to wait too long for their mates, they might just find another penguin to shack up with. More than 400 penguins marched up the beach that night, honking and stopping and starting, several couples walking arm-in-arm (wing-in-wing?). They seemed pretty organized about where they were headed, but at one point, a group headed up a hill, got halfway there, stopped, and then turned around and came back down. We also saw a penguin couple start calling and quacking and dancing around each other, and then they threw themselves down in the sand and started having sex! It wasn't what I was expecting, but I guess we had been warned about penguin promiscuity. Other penguin couples met up and headed into the bushes to shake things up. Some penguins just stood completely still, alone, staring straight ahead. Most penguins just kept walking, leaning slightly forward, getting things done.
We watched the penguins for about an hour and a half, and then piled in the van for the two-hour drive back to Melbourne. Once we arrived back at St. Paul's Cathedral in the center of town, we rode the train for another hour back out to Box Hill. There is a heavy immigrant community in Box Hill, and the area is almost like an Australian Chinatown, so we thought we'd find a nice Chinese restaurant and have a late dinner before walking back to Margaret's house. We chose a nice-looking place with white tablecloths and set menu, and the food and the service were both very good. Halfway through the third course, though, A.-J. looked up and stopped chewing. "Maria, a rat just ran up the wall," she said. We considered that for a few seconds. Then we decided that the rat wasn't going to bother us, so we kept on eating. As we finished dinner, we were the only people left in the restaurant, and we noticed that the waiters had also become aware of the rat. They seemed to be trying to play it cool, but they were looking up at the same spot and chattering to each other in Chinese about it. Since I hadn't seen the rat to begin with, I walked over and looked up with them. Out of a small hole in the wall up near the heating unit stuck a little nose and whiskers. The waiters smiled at me nervously. Back at the table, one came over to explain: "The rat comes every night at this time!" Shortly after, the head waiter (manager?) came over with his explanation: "I never see this rat before tonight." A few minutes later, another waiter dropped by with his story: "At my house, rats come to heating unit, too." We paid, chalked it up to yet another experience of Australian wildlife, and walked home at the end of a splendid day.
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