Koala Research

Meet ... Fredon and Placid

- a love story

She was lovely - calm, sweet with gentle, grandmotherly eyes that seemed to have seen everything and were afraid of nothing.  Courtesy was always rewarded by her with a look in our direction, or the perfect pose for a photograph.  Noisiness and bad behavior on our part, though, were ignored absolutely as if she was trying to train us to behave well when in the presence of our elders.  And an elder she was, judging from her wrinkled, faded nose and those grandmotherly eyes.

Placid, we named her.  (Though, as we came to know her better, Gracious would have been a better name.)  She wasn’t beautiful in the classic Koala way - her ears were a bit stubby with a distinctive point at the top like a little pair of horns and all her fur was quite a dark brown, except for the normal white scarf and pale posterior.  She may indeed have been a beauty in her youth, as evidenced by her very pretty small face and petite physique, but we hadn’t met her then.

There was one though, who saw her as a beauty still.  He was big, proud and handsome, in his prime, and he was devoted to her.  We called him Fredon (for reasons too complex to explain).  At first we didn’t notice his love for her (Koalas, you know, are very subtle about these things).  They just seemed like two koalas who lived very close together and who got on well.  Over time, we started to notice how often they were together, outside of breeding season.  They often shared the same tree - and there was no lack of trees to choose from.  Their home ranges were almost exactly the same (about 90% overlap).  But they had their favourite spots, just like a married couple with their own lounge chairs, and interestingly, Fredon was never seen in Placid’s favourite chairs, and vice versa!

He was younger than her, and a bit of a catch for any female.  His fur was thick and short and showed off his superb physique.  His large head, framed by short ears, was dominated by his intelligent eyes - eyes that would look straight at you with interest, and if you were a male, with a challenge.  Not once did Fredon move away from us because we were too close.  Confidence was his middle name.  Maybe this is why she chose him.

Once, when I had known him about a year, he turned to me and gave me the most intense, searching look, straight in the eye.  I had to stop talking to my guests to answer this look.  It was compelling.  I felt like he was communicating with me, and it made me wonder - how do koalas communicate with each other?  Koalas that are close to each other, like mothers and babies, or mated pairs - how do they?  We assume its all about scent, but there is something about the way they use their eyes that suggests something more.  I will never forget it.

The great love of Placid and Fredon was only fully realised recently.  For ten days we didn’t see either Placid or Fredon, which is strange, but not enough to alarm us.  And then we saw Fredon in a remote part of his range - great relief! - but we discovered Placid’s body on the ground just below where Fredon was sitting.  He looked miserable, uninterested.  He didn’t move, didn’t acknowlege us at all.  She hadn’t been gone long and still looked pretty - just sleeping.  The next day he was in a different tree but in the same area - just above her.  Was he waiting for her to get up?  Or was he just miserable?  Why did they both disappear just before she died?  Did they both know something was wrong? 

I have searched for reasons for all of this, but I can’t help but wonder - do they feel love?  And why do we humans have so much difficulty imagining that animals feel love?  We do, and we are just animals.  Domestic animals show love, and I don’t mean loyalty, or need, but real love (anyone who has been loved by a cat will know what I mean!)

I hope that Placid spent her last days with someone she loved.

Janine

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