Their
bodies lie piled up by the side of the road, barely visible through the
ochre haze: dozens, maybe hundreds of kangaroos that tried to outrun
the flames and perished, in their droves, in the attempt. The scene, filmed from a car on the way to Batlow, New South Wales, resembles a battlefield after a bungled campaign: wildlife versus wildfire, and the victor is abundantly clear.
Australia is burning. At least 23 people have died since October and with much of the continent still ablaze, despite the fact bushfire season is not expected to peak until February, that number is likely to climb. The scale of the devastation – entire towns wiped out, thousands sheltering on the beach to await military evacuation by sea – is hard to overestimate.
But to the rest of the world looking on in horror, among the most ghastly images are those showing the toll on Australia’s native wildlife. A kangaroo, backlit by flames. A dead joey, charred and still clinging to the fence that it ran up against. Battered koalas, battling serious burns – these are the faces put forward in appeals, poster critters of a nation gripped by emergency.
The power of these images speaks to the hold of Australian wildlife
on our collective imagination. If you know nothing else about Australia –
if you wouldn’t know Ramsay Street without the street sign – you know
Skippy the Bush Kangaroo. Same with a koala, platypus, dingo, echidna,
kookaburra, wombat, possum, emu, saltwater croc – take your pick.
Even if a visit to Australia is just an “if we win the Lotto” entry on your bucket list, its fauna is instantly recognisable, symbolic of a wild and ancient continent truly unlike any other on Earth. But one of the many ways in which Australia is special is that if you do go there, you’ll actually see these species.
In neighbouring New Zealand, you would have to be not only determined, but lucky to glimpse a kiwi in the wild; it is only a minor exaggeration to say that, even in its major cities, Australia’s wildlife is overhead, underfoot, probably trying to steal your lunch. In Queensland, a bearded dragon might scuttle across your path on your commute. TripAdvisor reviews of national parks in Tasmania report “fields of wombats”. Take the train from Canberra to Sydney, and from the window you’ll see kangaroos grazing like livestock.
Because of these riches, visitors’ fascination with the wildlife can be mocked a little by Australians – as though it were the equivalent of making a fuss over pigeons. Yet in the three years I spent living in Sydney, I never got used to it. (The cockroaches, especially.) Even in the inner city, possums and ibises – nicknamed “bin chickens” – scavenged from park bins; lorikeets and cheeky cockatoos gathered on my balcony. On my walk home from work each evening, flying foxes – dog-like bats, wingspans longer than your arm – would form in clouds, like starlings. Now thousands of those bats have died, on top of the many lost in last year’s heatwave.
By the conservative estimates of ecologists at the University of Sydney, half a billion animals are thought to have been affected by the fires since September in New South Wales alone – but the impact will go far beyond the individuals lost. Wildlife carers are reporting a “mass abandonment” of young bats as their mothers stop being able to produce milk. Half of the 50,000 koalas on Kangaroo Island off Australia’s southern coast – which is the country’s only disease-free population, and kept separate to those on the mainland as insurance for the species’ future – are thought to have died in these past weeks.
The impact of the fires on plants and insects, on the land’s very ability to support life, cannot as easily be captured in a heart-rending photograph – but Prof John Woinarski, of Charles Darwin University, has said even these devastating scenes forecast “an even more bleak future ahead”. Kangaroos and koalas are the faces of ravaged ecosystems that were vulnerable to start with and may never recover. Not when bushfire season isn’t even over yet – and not when it will happen again next year.
Donate to WIRES wildlife rescue at wires.org.au
• Elle Hunt is a freelance journalist
Australia is burning. At least 23 people have died since October and with much of the continent still ablaze, despite the fact bushfire season is not expected to peak until February, that number is likely to climb. The scale of the devastation – entire towns wiped out, thousands sheltering on the beach to await military evacuation by sea – is hard to overestimate.
But to the rest of the world looking on in horror, among the most ghastly images are those showing the toll on Australia’s native wildlife. A kangaroo, backlit by flames. A dead joey, charred and still clinging to the fence that it ran up against. Battered koalas, battling serious burns – these are the faces put forward in appeals, poster critters of a nation gripped by emergency.
A shocking video of dead animals strewn across a roadside in New South Wales killed in the #AustralianBushfire .
At least 480 million mammals, birds and reptiles are likely to have died in the state alone since September. Devastating.
Credit: The 'new' Batlow Hotel
At least 480 million mammals, birds and reptiles are likely to have died in the state alone since September. Devastating.
Credit: The 'new' Batlow Hotel
Even if a visit to Australia is just an “if we win the Lotto” entry on your bucket list, its fauna is instantly recognisable, symbolic of a wild and ancient continent truly unlike any other on Earth. But one of the many ways in which Australia is special is that if you do go there, you’ll actually see these species.
In neighbouring New Zealand, you would have to be not only determined, but lucky to glimpse a kiwi in the wild; it is only a minor exaggeration to say that, even in its major cities, Australia’s wildlife is overhead, underfoot, probably trying to steal your lunch. In Queensland, a bearded dragon might scuttle across your path on your commute. TripAdvisor reviews of national parks in Tasmania report “fields of wombats”. Take the train from Canberra to Sydney, and from the window you’ll see kangaroos grazing like livestock.
Because of these riches, visitors’ fascination with the wildlife can be mocked a little by Australians – as though it were the equivalent of making a fuss over pigeons. Yet in the three years I spent living in Sydney, I never got used to it. (The cockroaches, especially.) Even in the inner city, possums and ibises – nicknamed “bin chickens” – scavenged from park bins; lorikeets and cheeky cockatoos gathered on my balcony. On my walk home from work each evening, flying foxes – dog-like bats, wingspans longer than your arm – would form in clouds, like starlings. Now thousands of those bats have died, on top of the many lost in last year’s heatwave.
By the conservative estimates of ecologists at the University of Sydney, half a billion animals are thought to have been affected by the fires since September in New South Wales alone – but the impact will go far beyond the individuals lost. Wildlife carers are reporting a “mass abandonment” of young bats as their mothers stop being able to produce milk. Half of the 50,000 koalas on Kangaroo Island off Australia’s southern coast – which is the country’s only disease-free population, and kept separate to those on the mainland as insurance for the species’ future – are thought to have died in these past weeks.
The impact of the fires on plants and insects, on the land’s very ability to support life, cannot as easily be captured in a heart-rending photograph – but Prof John Woinarski, of Charles Darwin University, has said even these devastating scenes forecast “an even more bleak future ahead”. Kangaroos and koalas are the faces of ravaged ecosystems that were vulnerable to start with and may never recover. Not when bushfire season isn’t even over yet – and not when it will happen again next year.
Donate to WIRES wildlife rescue at wires.org.au
• Elle Hunt is a freelance journalist
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