Wombat Warriors by Samantha Wheeler

Author:Samantha Wheeler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UQP
Published: 2017-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

I’d just started Googling ‘wombat behaviour’ when Aunt Evie returned with the wood. ‘All okay?’ she asked.

‘Um, yeah,’ I said, scrolling down the search options. ‘Mum said the funeral went okay. Do you mind if I just borrow your laptop for one more sec?’

‘Sure,’ said Aunt Evie. ‘I’ll go put the porridge on.’

The first site said that, unlike other species, southern hairy-nosed wombats didn’t mind sharing their burrows, with the record of wombats in one burrow reaching 38. Burrows could be narrow, only as wide as a bowling ball, or wide enough for a skinny adult to squeeze into. The longest ever burrow was measured at 60 metres long and four metres deep, and contained different chambers for sleeping and grooming.

‘You wouldn’t mind sharing a burrow, would you?’ I asked, scratching under Willow’s chin and then Miss Pearl’s.

The website went on to say that a wombat’s burrow provided a cool place to shelter in summer and was warm in winter, and since a burrow took a lot of energy to dig, wombats preferred to reuse old burrows rather than dig new ones.

I wasn’t surprised. It said a ten-metre tunnel could take over 80 hours to make. Males usually inherited the family burrow, which could be up to 50 years old. Fatticake’s burrow could be the same one that he was born in. Because burrows were so complex, cave-ins and blockages commonly led to the death of the occupying wombat.

‘Porridge is ready!’ called Aunt Evie from the kitchen.

‘One more minute.’

I’d just spotted something I wanted to read. A South Australian Government site explained that a free application for a permit to ‘Destroy Wildlife’ could be obtained from their department, as long as farmers could prove that wombats were causing damage to their farm.

I shuddered and quickly shut the laptop.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Aunt Evie when I slid into my place at the table.

‘Nothing,’ I said, staring into my steaming porridge.

‘Mouse? You okay?’

I shifted in my seat. ‘Yeah,’ I murmured. ‘I’ve just thought of an angle for my ology project.’

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