15/20/21 Koala Time: Mikkira

I'm told that Manna gums are to koalas what Lindt Chocolate is to humans.  A large stand of Manna gums grows on Mikkira Station, which is 25 km outside Port Lincoln.  Mikkira's Manna gums are inhabited by a growing colony of wild koalas; something of a rarity (both trees and animals) on the Eyre Peninsula.




 

Mikkira Station also has the ruins of the original hut built by Adam Borthwick who took up the lease a bare three years after Port Lincoln was settled. The hut is open for stickybeaks to wander through, and the remnants of drystone walls meander about the property.  

 

From the inside out.

The hut is not in original condition.  It has been re-roofed and re-floored.

Mikkira was originally a sheep station: the chimney is from the shepherd's quarters, the dry stone walls enclosed a water point before the installation of such modern fandangles as windmills and solar pumps.

 I haven't been able to clarify if the koalas have always been on Mikkira or if the population was introduced some time ago, but they have thrived and multiplied among the gum trees. So much so, in fact, that they are literally  eating themselves out of house and home: the Manna gums are dying due to overgrazing.  While this cloud has a silver lining in the shape of increased real estate for the galahs and Port Lincoln Ringnecks who reside in the dead upper storeys of the Mannas, it does not bode well for the long term survival of the koala colony. Unbeknownst to the koalas, the future of Mikkira Station is currently being debated between the owners, various Government Departments, and tour operators who have sniffed a great opportunity and would like to capitalise on it.  In the meantime, people like us can camp out at the station, wander through the ruins, and play 'how many koalas can you spot?'

The koalas remain indifferent, occasionally rousing from slumber to peer at the gawking human traffic beneath their trees. They get their own back at night when they produce a chorus of grunts, growls, roars, and demented screeches to disturb the sleep of anyone who camped too close to the trees.

Butter wouldn't melt.



Aside from koalas, we shared the campground with a distant clutch of young families and a related juvenile bicycle gang who specialised in pedal-by questions.

"Are you camping here?"

Zoom!

"We're in a caravan! We're cousins!"

Pedalpedalpedal!

"We've got bicycles!"

I never would have guessed that last one.

After the Wilpena Pound episode of non- combustible firewood we went upmarket and got our firewood for Mikkira from the Port Lincoln Bunnings. This wood was marginally better: we produced a lot of smoke but managed to boil the billy and generate enough coals to decently toast a marshmallow or two. There were no mosquitoes at all: we sat by the fire and watched clouds sail past a half moon while koalas grunted and grumbled in the bush around us.

Camping doesn't get much better than this.


Day's last rays.

Home for the night: Mikkara Station, Sleaford.


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