fairy- just in case you're intersted this is the article about Claire and the koalas. Let me know if it doesn't work.
She plays a veterinarian in her new movie, Terminator 3. But could Claire Danes cope if she really had to care for animals in need? We arranged for Claire to help Australian researchers save the koala bear... paging Dr. Danes...
I'm something of a frustrated animal lover. At one point or another, I've been the proud owner of two parakeets, one cat, a guinea pig, and some fish. As a child, I even spent a great deal of time wishing my Teddy bear would come to life. Hey, a girl has to dream! But the lifestyle of an actress barely lends itself to taking care of plants, let alone pets. So when Marie Claire proposed that I break from my Australian vacation to track koalas in the bush, I couldn't believe my luck. Here was a chance to bond with the most adorable living things on the planet. But unfortunately, as the Marie Claire editors informed me, the koalas' cuteness hasn't kept them off the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service list of threatened animals - meaning koalas are one step short of officially becoming an endangered species.
The night before I leave, my boyfriend, Ben Lee [the musician], who is from Australia, imparts his sole bit of koala wisdom: "They get so high from eating all those eucalyptus leaves that they fall out of their trees, you know." As I try to fall asleep, I can't shake this bizarre mental picture: Me, stumbling through the forest as I dodge falling koala junkies. Thanks, Ben. The next morning, I set off with a laugh and a shrug.
Reporting for duty
Park Ranger Tim Moore picks me up from my hotel first thing in the a.m. We're headed for the Daisy Hill State Forest, conservation area in Queensland - home to several hundred koalas. On the way, Tim gives me my Official Honorary Park Ranger uniform (first rule of getting into character: It never hurts to look the part). He also swiftly debunks Ben's addiction theory, as well as the notion that koalas are bears.
"They're actually marsupials, most closely related to the wombat," he informs me.
Right. Of course.
As we bounce along in the Daisy Hill bus, Tim tells me that it's estimated that there are more than 100,000 koalas in Queensland - one of the largest populations in Australia, the only country in which they exist. Most Americans immediately associate Australia with koalas, but the iconic animals could go the way of the dodo bird without legislation to protect their habitat. It should come as no surprise that humans - not the koalas' natural "drug use" - are to blame for this demise. "Approximately 80 percent of Australia's original koala habitat has been decimated to make way for housing projects," says Tim. "In the process, we've drastically reduced the koalas' only food source." Here I am, thinking myself quite the animal fanatic, never considering that the land under the hotel I'm staying in might once have been home to several thousand koalas. I'm suddenly vaguely embarrassed to be human.
We arrive at Daisy Hill, where we're met by Wildlife Ranger Diedre de Villiers, who has spent the last six years heading up a research project that monitors orphaned koalas after their release into the wild. She keeps the koala factoids coming.
"Koalas like to live anywhere they see an edible eucalyptus tree," she says. "So, even if the tree is in someone's backyard or on the side of a busy road, that doesn't stop them from moving right in. In urban areas, most koalas die from being hit by cars or attacked by dogs."
To make matters worse, Australia is suffering through its worst drought in 100 years, further compromising the koalas' habitat and sole source of nutrition. Of course, watching their food disappear and their homes being destroyed isn't doing wonders for their mental health, either.
"When they're stressed out, they're more likely to contract diseases, like chlamydia [a strain different from the one that infects humans] and cancers, which spread rapidly through their communities as they reproduce," says Diedre.
After hearing how rough the koalas have had it lately, I'm dying to take one in my arms. Tim relieves me of this warm, fuzzy notion by warning me that they aren't always as sweet as they look. Just like any other animal, they lash put when they feel threatened.
"In fact, one once bit me so hard on the stomach that I had to get stitches," he says. Point taken. But I'm still dying to see a koala for myself, and maybe, in some tiny way, do something to help. Even if it's only to introduce myself as a human who isn't interested in moving in on their real estate.
The search begins
I've been to Australia many times since Ben and I started dating, but I've never been to a place like Daisy Hill State Forest. This place is devoted protecting koalas in their habitat, and here, I'm surrounded by eucalyptus - or gum trees, as the Aussies call them - a species unique to Australia. They're incredibly tall, and the trunks are a beautiful gray and white - much like the fur of koalas, making the animals hard to distinguish from the trees they live in. (When Marie Claire called this expedition a "challenge," they weren't kidding.)
Diedre hands me a pair of binoculars and instructs me to inspect the tree trunks for telltale scratch marks. Next, she advises me to look for their droppings, which are shaped like small Kalamata olives - up until now, one of my favorite snacks. Diedre says there is no hard-and-fast rule about how long it might take to spot a koala. "Sometimes they pop right up, and other times it can take hours," she says.
Down on my hands and knees I go, searching for koala dung. Ah, the glamorous life of a celebrity! As I sift through leaves, rocks, and mud, I'm trying not to think of what else I might find on the forest floor. I'm a New Yorker, more used to contending with over-zealous cab drivers than the deadly snakes, spiders, and blood-sucking leeches (oh my!) that share these woods with the koalas.
A few hours, several leg scratches, and many mosquito bites later, I finally spot droppings, which lead me to tree scratches that produce a live koala, fast asleep and nestled in a fork in a tree, way above my head. Success! I'm ecstatic, but I restrain from screaming. The last thing I want to do is stress the little guy out by waking him up.
Diedre explains that koalas spend up to 16 hours a day asleep. Apparently, gum leaves are about as nutritious as, well, gum, so the koalas have to gorge themselves just to get enough nutrition to survive. And all that eating leaves them exhausted (think constant Thanksgiving coma). While I find all of this fascinating, I'm getting impatient: When do I get to hold one?
Right now, it turns out. Diedre leaves and returns with a rustling cage containing Bam Bam, an orphan who was found on the ground a year ago. Today is an auspicious day for Bam Bam. After months of therapy, he's about to be released into the wild. His sharp claws dig into my skin when I take him from Diedre. He looks up at me as if to say, "Who are you?" then nuzzles my face. I'm melting! His heart is beating rapidly, and he's incredibly warm and soft (apart from those claws). Just then it hits me: I'm realizing my 6-year-old fantasy of holding a live teddy bear! And yes, I'm now aware that Bam Bam isn't even remotely related to a bear-teddy or otherwise. But still...
Before Bam Bam can be released into the woods, I have to tag him so Diedre can track his progress as he ages. But the second I get near him with the Transmitter collar, he squirms away. I tell mvself that he's just a toddler in a fur coat and start talking to him as if he were a human baby, with lots of "goo-goo, ga-ga"-ing. When I finally get it around his neck, I nearly slice off his ear as I trim the collar with a pair of scissors. Diedre's face registers concern. (Jane Goodall I am not.) By the time I'm done, I'm covered in scratches, but I'm sad to let Bam Bam go. I can't help but think that if every developer could hold a koala for just a few minutes, their fate might not be in such jeopardy.
Paging Dr. Danes
Bright and early on the second day, we embark for the Moggill Koala Hospital, which looks nothing like a human hospital. Here, sick koalas perch in trees and munch on eucalyptus. The facility treats more than 1000 suffering koalas each year. I wonder how I'll cope with seeing them. Will I get nervous and say something stupid, like, "I'm not a veterinarian, but I play one in my new movie, Terminator 3? Or worse, will I dissolve into tears?
Just greeting poor Shep, who has chlamydia, is harder than saying good-bye to Bam Bam was. He needs a sponge bath. I cringe as I gently dab his sores - I don't want to hurt him. But the doctors assure me that the infection is far more detrimental to him than the discomfort of the bath.
It breaks my heart when 9-year-old Lynn is brought to the operating room. She has ulcers all over her small body, again from chlamydia. I apply antibiotic cream under the direction of a ranger. The chlamydia can never be cured, but this will help ease Lynn's suffering. I hope.
A tree grows in Queensland
Earlier today, I learned that koalas can consume just a few of Australia's more than 600 varieties of eucalyptus trees, and construction projects that destroy these trees leave koalas with little to eat. So I ask to go to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, a few minutes away. As my small contribution to their welfare, and in memory of this amazing trip, I decide to plant one of the koalas' favorite eucalyptus trees, the red gum. As I dig the little hole, I realize I have never even planted anything before, let alone had a garden. I'm a bit overcome by how therapeutic it feels to help something grow. So much for being a city girl!
My sapling safely in the soil, I turn my attention to the established trees nearby, which are so overrun with weeds that they'll probably die before they provide any nutrition to the koalas. Since I'm not as fit as I usually am right now, the heavy hatchet is difficult to maneuver, but I promise myself I won't give up until I've gotten rid of these damn weeds. Half an hour later, when I'm finally finished, I look at the tiny space that I've cleared and smile. That's a start, I think.
Backstage at Jay Leno
Sorry I can't get it bigger!
From a Marie Claire Celebrity Challenge- Claire helped endanger koalas
Claire and a car
another pic from a sketch on the episode of SNL that she hosted
At a post 9/11 "Here is NYC" poetry reeding
Eating a lollipop
Behind the scenes of the Rainmaker
Behind the scenes of The Rainmaker
The purple hair's interesting
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