Koalas are as Aussie as kangaroos and convicts, but Australia's arboreal ambassador and lord of the limbs, is in trouble. Its habitat and diet, eucalyptus trees, are falling fast along the east coast, formerly the koala's stronghold. The contrary little pseudo bear, velcroed to a tree most of the day, lives to sleep, yet people charge into action on his behalf. And most experts agree that action is needed pronto.

Aboriginals hunted koalas for thousands of years with minimal impact on their numbers. Things would change, however, after Europeans arrived and felt of their fur. They used cyanide for the indiscriminant slaughter of millions, which, of course, meant none of those unsightly bullet holes to damage the goods and lower profits. The last open season was in Queensland, 1927, when more than 600,000 koalas were harvested (or was it poisoned). The carnage caused such an outcry that the Australian government finally banned the export of koala fur. By then treetops in the state of South Australia had already been stripped bare of the cuddly critters.

The ban on hunting helped for awhile, but then Aussies started doing more of what people do best, which is making more people. Population growth this century has led to clearing of eucalyptus forests for farms and human settlement. Today koalas roam the canopies in disconnected stands of only four states (out of seven) where they compete with people for prime real estate. Guess who wins that contest. You got it. Koala numbers take a dive. And unlike hunting which can simply be stopped, habitat loss is irreversible. Humans seldom give back what they take.

The gloomiest experts claim koala numbers are as low as 40,000. Not endangered yet, but the curve is headed lickety-split in that direction. The cry throughout koaladom is that Australia would never let its international heartthrob go extinct. Certainly koala power has mobilized an army of worldwide concern into battle. Will it be enough?