Brutus the WOMBAT

This is a true story (I know because I still have the bruises).

Every now and then something (in my household it is usually either furry or feathery and smells like it is in urgent need of a bath) unexpected enters your life and somehow changes it forever. In 1988, only days before Christmas we "inherited" a young wombat named Brutus.

A friend named Graeme Robinson and his veterinarian wife Margaret had been given a baby Wombat to try to raise. A Bendigo family on a trip to Gippsland had hit and killed the mother wombat with their car. Fortunately they had had the good sense to check the pouch and extract an uninjured youngster. He was brought back to Bendigo and handed to the RSPCA who then gave it to Margaret.

On December 23, 1988 Graeme and his son David were injured in a car crash just outside their property. A certain wombat was running riot in a traumatised household so myself and my wife Sue collected the errant beast and took it home to our very much incomplete mud-brick house.

We were right out of Wombat burrows, so Brutus moved in to what would eventually become our laundry. He seemed to be quite at home in that room, even dug out his own doorway (nearly). This was the beginning of quite an adventure for all of us, including Brutus.

Brutus at this stage was about 10 kilograms, but was not weaned and required bottle feeding at regular intervals both day and night. He slept in large bean-bag, usually upside down and cuddling a small stuffed-toy possum. While wombats are normally nocturnal, Brutus kept odd hours, probably because he partly adapted to human cycles. He would have periods of intense activity when he would run around, often chasing myself, Sue or my dog Kanga and playing his rather painful biting game which he seemed to love. This would be followed by several hours sleep either on the floor or in his bean-bag. This cycle often continued through the night and early morning. It was not unusual to be woken at 4am in the morning by scratching noises followed by whistles and squeals. Time for a feed! Get out the bottle and the special milk. Warm it up, pick up the wombat and stick the teat in its mouth, then try to stay awake while he drinks his fill. Then a play, then if we were lucky another sleep period. Just like a human baby do I hear all you parents say? Wombats are hairyer.

One major drawback of keeping a wombat inside your house is that unless the animal has regular baths the smell can bit a bit overpowering. Fortunately despite the advances in technology, multimedia does not yet include smell files. You can't click on "wombat.sml". The reader is therefore spared this delight! Brutus was bathed often and seemed to enjoy it.

He was very playful, every bit as playful and cheeky as any dog. Once when marauding (and that's the only way to describe it) around Graeme's office (before the car accident) my mother-in-law Wanda brought her two grand-children in to meet Brutus. Kate, the eldest was very wary of any animal and kept away from Brutus at first. Wanda tried to show her "how friendly the nice wombat was" by stroking his head and back. Andrew is more at home with animals and patted the hairy marsupial enthusiastically. Brutus chose that moment to start a game of "bite the mother-in-law on the bottom". Wanda reflexly jumped up and yelped. Brutus never really bit all that hard, it was just a game, but Wanda's reaction sent Kate into panic mode and she fled out the door. Brutus then galloped around the room with I'm sure a smile of mischievous delight.

He played this biting game often, mostly by standing on his rear legs with his front legs over an arm and hitting the arm with his top incisors. It was more hitting than a true bite, which was just as well , because even when young, wombats have powerful teeth. He even played this game with my dog Kanga. Kanga was a 40kg German Shepherd who was not daunted by this powerful young animal. Brutus would put his front legs on the dog's back and bite his back repeatedly. Kanga would tolerate this for a while then run off, usually with the wombat in hot pursuit. The dog was a truly remarkable animal, the most gentle and intelligent non-human animal I have ever had the privilege to meet. While most dogs will kill small animals this dog would gently pick them up and bring them home to me. He was thoroughly harassed by Brutus who probably enjoyed the companionship of another hairy creature. Every now and then the wombat would push his luck just a little too far and the dog would shake Brutus off and pin him to the ground by his neck. No biting, just holding and a warning growl. When Brutus was released from the dog's grip he would immediately resume his game and attack Kanga. (Third rule of Wombat keeping - Never push a wombat away. He will only push back harder). Poor Kanga must have been very irritated at the time and perhaps suffered more than I realized, since I was to learn shortly that he had a terminal cancer and in a matter of weeks we would all be missing our friend. Wombats don't seem to feel pain. No matter how roughly he was treated by the dog or even me he would do exactly what he wanted no matter what. This was evident one day when I made the mistake of shutting the flywire door in his face to keep him outside while I went inside to get a drink. Brutus wanted to follow me so he did. He just tore the door apart and kept going. Easy to see why farmers don't like them.

Brutus page 2