We have been getting to know a fair number of Australian animals, primarily at two superb nearby sites. The world-renowned Melbourne Zoo, nestled in Royal Park near the psychiatric hospital, is the oldest zoo in Australia. It was also Australia’s most crowded zoo the day we were there because we had imprudently chosen to visit at the kick-off of children’s week. Children were being admitted free of charge, whether or not they were domesticated, but never mind—they all headed immediately for the exotic, foreign animals, while Kathryn and I sought the native fauna and had much better viewing.
In addition to other attractions, this zoo contained a magnificent, towering aviary—essentially a large, open cage that visitors could walk through, and which was spacious enough to contain several “environments,” including riverside and desert habitats. The birds were astonishingly varied, colorful, and active. We had the good luck to fall in with a birder who identified for us the various species and recommended a few good bird books as well, including Michael Morcombe’s famous Field Guide to Australian Birds. For the other animals, Kathryn lost her heart to the wombat, probably because he resembled a guinea pig the size of a Mini, but to me he looked as if he should be placed on a suicide watch. I meant to suggest to his keeper that he have a counselor step over from the psychiatric hospital for a consultation, but I forgot.
The following week we had an even better time at the Healesville Sanctuary, which was an hour east of Melbourne. Our new neighbor, Paula, kindly drove us out there, and we spent the day with her and her two young sons. As a genuine sanctuary, Healesville is more than a spot for people to come and make idiotic faces at animals in an effort to get them to do something interesting. It’s that too, of course, but this refuge “cares for over 1500 injured or orphaned wild animals each year,” according to their literature. Visitors to the on-site animal hospital can view displays of microscopes, x-rays, and even a nursery (including an artificial pouch for orphan kangaroos). One of the most intriguing items was a flat-screen TV providing a bird’s-eye view of an in-progress operation. A window also gave views of the operating room, so we spent a queasy quarter-hour watching an echidna apparently getting a tummy tuck.
Taken together, these displays did awaken in me a new respect for the sheer body of knowledge that vets must master simply to do a competent job. To take a single but representative example, consider the matter of sedating an animal for surgery. With human patients, how many variables are there? Weight, of course, and sex, and age, and general physical condition. I’m no expert and I’m certain there are other considerations, but these are the major ones, surely. When an animal is the patient, you have all of these plus the differences of physiology, metabolism, and even species. And, as I say, this is just one part of veterinary care: putting an animal under for an operation.
But it is an important part because, trust me, there are some Australian creatures that you don’t want to wake up prematurely. A score or so snake species come immediately to mind. Of the world’s ten deadliest snakes, the top—let me just check this—yes, the top 100% are found in Australia. And of these, the grand champions are the fierce snake (Oxyuranus microlepidotus) and his cousin the taipan (Oxyuranus scuttelatus). The fierce snake is also known as the inland taipan. Bill Bryson met up with one or the other in Sydney’s Australian Museum, and describes it thus in his book, In a Sunburned Country.
Even from across the room, you could see at once which was the display case containing the stuffed taipan, for it had around it a clutch of small boys, held in rapt silence by the frozen gaze of its beady, lazily hateful eyes. You can kill it, and stuff it, and put it in a case, but you can’t take away the menace.
You will note Bryson is pretty vague about describing them, apart from the lazily hateful eyes, and I believe this is a deliberate attempt on his part to preserve their mystique. Because, really, taipans are not merely the deadliest snake on the planet, but the most ludicrously understated as well. This serpent, mark you, is 50 times more lethal than a cobra (according to the card Bryson saw in Sydney—my Melbourne taipans claimed to be only 7 times more lethal, but possibly they were just being modest), and yet, to unprejudiced eyes they look about as deadly as a pair of Dockers slacks. They are the right colors, anyway. The ones I saw had beige undersides and were a bland, unvarying khaki everywhere else, the black, hateful eyes excepted.
Which all strikes me as rather unsportsmanlike of the taipan, frankly. I mean, if you routinely carry around enough venom to lay out a roomful of people, you might at least put on some garish colors to advertise the fact, colors that say, “Hey everyone, I’d just as soon kill you as look at you! Keep the hell away from me!” Sea snakes have manners enough to do this, as do coral snakes; rattlesnakes have their rattles, and cobras their impressive hoods. It just seems to me the taipan isn’t trying very hard here, nor taking its preeminent position seriously enough.
According to a website (http://www.usyd.edu.au/anaes/venom/snakebite.html) sponsored by Abbott Laboratories for Australasian Anaesthetists, “In Australia there are about 3,000 snake bites per year, of which 200 to 500 receive antivenom; on average one or two will prove fatal.” (Personally, I’d like to know what the story is with the 2500 to 2800 snakebite victims who don’t receive antivenom: “What’s wrong with Jackie there?” “Says a death adder bit ‘im.” “Pah, it’s just his shout at the bar—that’s all’s bitin’ ‘im!”)
But since only one or two bites, on average, prove fatal each year, Australians seem to enjoy having a laugh at newcomers and their allegedly overblown qualms about the gentle creatures of the bush. Well, please consider the following. Kathryn and I have booked a Christmas trip to Tasmania; we wanted to do some camping, and started looking online for used tents. Below is a typical specimen of what Australians themselves prefer to sleep in when camping in their own country. “The prosecution rests,” is all I can say.
--originally posted 11/2008
No comments:
Post a Comment