Imagine . . .

It rained a beautiful warm rain at dusk last night. Many thousands of frogs responded and got mobile, spreading out from Tower Hill Lake in all directions to populate the district. But to escape the confines of the volcano, they had to hop across a black strip of death that wraps around the rim; the highway and the Koroit road. The carnage was horrific. 

pobblebonk Limnodynastes dumerili

People in cars don’t like stopping for anything, let alone squishable little amphibians hopping across the road. I pulled over and contemplated this state of affairs as cars raced past in plumes of spray, drivers either oblivious or uncaring of the lives being taken. People on the way home from work; people going shopping for grog or chocolates; people on their way to the pub or picking up the kids from footy and netball practice . . . the human imperative.

It’s not just frogs. Earlier I picked up what remained of a New Holland honey eater impressed into the tarmac of the lane in front of my home; crushed tangle of feathers, blood and bone; beautiful creature turned macabre monster with protruding eyes. Robins, wagtails, finches, magpies, galas, ibis and blue tongues all suffer similar fates on my quiet little country lane as people speed headlong about their business.

I regularly find snakes on a nearby track, their heads ground into the dirt by tons of recreational vehicle. Often, you can see from the tyre marks that the driver swerved to kill the snake in some misguided act of self-righteous execution. What is it with people’s attitude to serpents?

striped marsh frog Limnodynastes peroni

Several years ago I spent a week camping and living with koalas in Budj Bim, aka Mount Eccles National Park. I’d not experienced so many koalas at close quarters before and got to know their behaviour and habits quite well.

Early on the morning that I left and headed west for the sinkholes of South Australia, I had a nasty experience on the road that changed the tone of my holiday and saw me turn for home a few hours later.

From my journal Dog’s Holiday 2007:

As I cruised down the Heywood – Tyrendarra road, I came across a tragic sight. A koala lay dead in the middle of the road. A jet black raven rose from the grey and white carcass as I approached, then settled in the trees and watched.

I drove around the body, my idyllic mood rent with upset and anger . . . my world seemed to implode. I coasted down the road, deciding if I had the stomach to stop and move the mangled remains. A look in the mirror as the raven returned to its meal. Then I spied another forlorn heap up ahead. I confirmed yet another dead koala. Two in less than a kilometre. This was too much. I had to get them off the road at least.

So I pulled up next to the second body and went over, keeping a wary eye up and down the road for oncoming vehicles, tension in my gut as I prepared for the gore.

The body was intact, peaceful and still, outstretched limbs reaching for the other side of the road, face down in a pool of blood. I grasped the still supple hands and took it to the verge, where I examined it more closely through welling tears of frustration and loss. A car came swooshing by, the driver glancing curiously at me as she passed.

It was a juvenile female, small and light, with perfect fur. Not a mark on her apart from signs of head trauma; dislocated jaw, smashed teeth and bloodied tongue hanging out of the corner of her mouth . . . and lifeless black button eyes. Her body was still warm. I checked the pouch and was relieved to find it empty.

I looked around for a manna gum, found one close by and laid her gently at its base for the carrion to do their work away from the dangers of the road, the cursed road. I collected myself and returned to the first koala.

As I walked up the verge, a truck came barrelling down the road headed straight at the grey heap. I braced for the impact but it manoeuvred and passed the body between its wheels. The drivers eyes met my steely stare as he went by.

This koala was much heavier and older, clearly a male, with head injuries like the female but less blood . . . just a little trickle from the white tufty ears. The raven had already taken one eye; the other was half closed behind furry lids. I noticed the big pads on his feet and hands, long strong claws and muscular limbs. His fur was white and well worn around his rump. As I put him down against another manna, he expelled a last breath and I was alarmed that the poor creature could be suffering. But no. He was quite cold and there were no more signs of life.

Judging by the animals’ injuries and the behaviour of the truck driver, I suspect the koalas had been making their way across the road in that funny stiff gait. They are used to being curled up around branches; stretching backs and limbs to walk must be quite an effort. An oncoming vehicle would have made them pause and look up, as I had seem them do in Budj Bim. The axles and differential of the speeding truck would have collected their heads.  

After spending some quiet moments with the dead male it was time to leave them both for the raven and others that would return their flesh to the land.

I felt like I had been slapped in the face by the cruel realities of the human condition. Feverish thoughts niggled as I drifted west without conviction. Damned trucks were out everywhere, rushing about on the roads to stock supermarkets with endless supplies. Truck drivers aren't to blame, made to keep to tight schedules by cost conscious supervisors or trying to run their own businesses. There are few rail links left to carry a share. Consume, consume, consume, that's all we seem to be good for; all of us enslaved by market forces in a huge treadmill called The Economy. But the market is a construct and fatally flawed. All the costs are not accounted for. What was the death of these two creatures worth, members of a species struggling to survive in disappearing habitats? What lesson was this for our kids? Sure! Koalas are endearing, important to some, but only to a point. When they get in our way it's just bad luck! The human imperative overrules all.

comprehensive animal rights?
Australia doesn't even have
legally binding human rights

I’m not religious but have always respected some of Buddha's teachings. If I may quote The Venerable K Sri Dhammananda Maha Thera:

'The Buddha's advice is that it is not right for us to take away the life of any living being since every living being has a right to exist . . . We should not misuse our intelligence and strength to destroy animals even though they may sometimes be a nuisance to us . . . Every living being is contributing something to maintain this world. It is unfair for us to deprive their living rights. 

Man's cruelty towards animals is another expression of his uncontrolled greed . . . Our environment is threatened and if we do not take stern measures for the survival of other creatures, our own existence on this earth may not be guaranteed . . . We never consider that humans are the greatest threat to every living being on this earth and in the air . . . '

Imagine if we slowed down and listened to this kind of wisdom? Imagine if we heeded the teachings of our own indigenous culture and adopted an attitude of guardianship towards our country and people? Imagine if we respected all the creatures and plants that share this place with us? Imagine if it were an offence under the law to go about our business regardless of the cost to other life? Imagine if we had robust beliefs and enacted ethical standards that upheld the sanctity of all life. Imagine . . . 

Ewing's tree frog Litoria ewingi

Duckheads, wetlands and shooting culture; a dispatch from the war zone

It’s pretty grim out here in the wetlands as the annual slaughter of ducks by sporting shooters continues, and its not just the wildlife that is suffering.

Conservation activist Julia Symons was shot in the face on the first weekend of the season. Whether or not she should have been there is irrelevant. Apart from the obvious questions of intent, due care and responsible shooting, why is a so called sporting shooter discharging a shotgun aimed so low that she was in his firing line? Ducks are supposed to be taken on the wing, not the ground or water. That’s what the alleged sporting bit is there to signify.

calm before the storm; what will the new day bring?
[photo © Kirsa Veal]

Kirsa Veal is another conservationist out in the front lines with a passion for birds. Braver and more active than most, she's dedicated to getting her message across at these critical flash points, putting herself in harm's way to do so. She regularly confronts gross behaviour by shooters: sexism; racism; intimidation; abuse; assault and even implied rape. Coming from groups of blokes wielding guns, this is dangerous anti-social bullying at best.

It seems that some of these weekend Rambos are not very sporting at all; there are reports of them ganging up on lone male protesters and targeting women. The shooters demonstrably dismember ducks in front of protesters; wounded ducks are purposely left to bleed and flail when they fall nearby; and women are pelted with bird heads and entrails. Kirsa was abused by a shooter who screamed at her; ‘You Aussie piece of meat’ and darkly threatened ‘what he and the rest of them would do to me’.

Problems with this kind of shooting are many, but some obvious ones are:

• the sorts of behaviour and culture it promotes

• the difficulty of monitoring hunters and hunting sites; and this is necessary - for example live wounded birds have been found in shooters' bags when inspected

• identifying which birds are OK to shoot and which aren’t; there is a steady toll on rare and endangered species, and waterfowl other than ducks

• promoting cruelty and inhumane practices; many birds are only wounded and are left to die slowly; chicks are orphaned and die of starvation. 

body count; those left behind to suffer and die a slow death -
note the little chicks [photo © Kirsa Veal]

A big issue this season is the drought-breaking wet, cool weather. You’ve noticed it and I’ve noticed it. But apparently those who make critical decisions about hunting policy have not. Many waterfowl have taken advantage of the conditions after years of drought and degraded habitat. They’ve bred late into the autumn. So there are many fledglings still in care of parent birds. Shooting the adult birds is resulting in many orphaned chicks unable to fend for themselves.

The new Victorian State Government in its wisdom extended the hunting season this year. So you’d think it would have been viable to postpone the opening of the season to give the ducklings a few more weeks to learn their survival skills. This would have ensured a healthy population of ducks for next hunting season if nothing else.

Unfortunately, it seems that decisions by authorities that control hunting are not based on this kind of logic. In addition to an apparent unwillingness to enact conservation rhetoric proclaimed on their websites, they are probably not even aware of many grass-roots environmental issues. The agencies are notoriously poor at gathering information about what’s happening out here in the real world. They simply don’t have the people on the ground and they don’t listen to volunteers or others with highly developed local knowledge and relevant skills. Anyway, office-bound decision-makers and advisers are committed to dates in calendars insensitive to the cycle of life and seasonal variation in our wetlands.

looking the part; dressed to kill [photo © Kirsa Veal]

Kirsa provides insight into how ineffective and misdirected the agencies are when they do manage to put personnel in the field. ‘[The agency] spent more time fining protesters’ than monitoring shooters who were ‘inflicting cruelty on the birds’. She was also informed that; ‘If we tried to rescue ducklings, many only a few days old, we would be charged with “interfering with wildlife under the Wildlife Act.”’

In July 2009, the Department of Sustainability and Environment published a document responding to the Flora and Fauna Guarantee Act of 1988. In it they listed twenty-nine processes that are considered a threat to the environment. Some examples:

• loss of hollow-bearing trees from Victorian native forests

• loss of terrestrial climatic habitat caused by anthropogenic emissions of greenhouse gases

• predation of native wildlife by the cat, Felis catus.

The only process that is claimed to be repealed is:

• use of lead shot in cartridges for the hunting of waterfowl.

collateral damage; the plumed whistling duck  
Dendrocygna eytoni is a protected species
[photo © Kirsa Veal]

In other words, sporting shooters have to use steel shot as they blaze away at the ducks to reduce the amount of toxic lead being blasted into the landscape. It beggars belief that this is even presented as an achievement; it would be laughable if it wasn't so delusional. Like so many conventional bureaucratic attempts to define and manage human interaction with OUR shared habitat, it misses the point entirely. Is it any wonder that those of us with a connection to this land and a concern for country are disenchanted with the inaction and downright avoidance of issues by governments and their agencies?

cultural complexity; old ways die hard
[photo © Kirsa Veal]

So what can we do? Here's a call to arms from Kirsa: 

‘So get angry people and fire up about this. Do something! We have 13 weeks of this. Keep all eyes and ears out in your local areas. Always take your camera with you. Look for evidence of shooting; spent cartridges, feathers, remains. Take photos! Get active! Writing letters, emails and phone calls all helps. DO NOT approach shooters on your own. Leave that up to bloody lunatics like myself. Ten ducks a day bag limit and I cannot just sit there and let it happen.’

For more information visit:

Coalition Against Duck Shooting website

Animals Australia - duck shooting fact sheet

Birds Australia article: Victoria’s Wetlands Become the Killing Fields … Yet Again 

stalemate; a shooter cradles his gun
while an activist is in the line of fire

[photo © Kirsa Veal]