Category: Science communication

By Kylie M Cairns (UNSW Sydney), Bradley Smith, (CQUniversity Australia), Euan Ritchie (Deakin University) and Thomas Newsome (University of Sydney).

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

For decades, scientists, policymakers, graziers and land managers have been locked in a surprisingly high-stakes debate over what defines a dingo. Are these wild canids their own species? Or are they simply feral dogs?

The intensity of the debate can seem baffling. But the naming of animals influences how they are perceived and managed. The dingo debate has very real consequences for conservation laws, cultural recognition and respect, and the future of one of Australia’s iconic animals.

In 2020, researchers proposed four conditions dingoes would have to meet to be considered separate from domestic dogs: reproductive isolation (they don’t mate and produce fertile offspring), genetic distinctiveness, independent evolutionary path and distinctiveness from South-East Asian village dogs, which superficially resemble dingoes.

In our new research, we lay out the scientific case showing dingoes do indeed meet these requirements, across genetic, behavioural, ecological and archaeological evidence. We now have a clear answer: dingoes are distinct.

Australia’s wild canines have been on their own evolutionary path for thousands of years. As a distinct lineage, they should be recognised in their own right as a species or subspecies. They are not Canis familiaris, the domestic dog. They should be named either Canis dingo or Canis lupus dingo.

Species aren’t always in neat boxes

One of the greatest challenges for modern taxonomy is how to categorise “species” that don’t fit in neat little boxes but exist along a continuum.

It’s harder still for species whose long and significant associations with humans can lead to substantial changes that are evolutionarily significant.

It’s widely accepted domestic and wild animal populations should be distinguished and be given different scientific names. Domestication is often portrayed as a simple before-and-after event. But this isn’t accurate.

Domestication is a long, messy continuum. Some domesticated species such as cattle and modern dog breeds depend on humans for their survival. But dingoes are different. They have lived alongside people but are also entirely capable of surviving without us, and have done so for thousands of years.

In evolutionary terms, what matters is the trajectory. Did human contact fundamentally alter the appearance, biology and behaviour of the species, locking it into a domestic lifestyle? Or did human influence have little effect, meaning the species has been shaped primarily by natural selection in the wild?

Do dingoes meet the criteria to be considered taxonomically distinct?

Our research shows how the four conditions have been met to consider dingoes separate:

1. Reproductive isolation

Dingoes have been separated from other Canis lineages for 8,000-11,000 years. Genetic studies show dingoes have little contemporary interbreeding with domestic dogs, even when they live in the same areas. While all Canis species can interbreed and produce fertile offspring, differences in breeding seasons and behaviour act as natural barriers. Unlike dingoes, domestic dogs rarely establish wild, self-sustaining populations.

2. Genetic distinctiveness

Genome-wide analyses reveal dingoes descend from an ancient “eastern” dog lineage, while most modern domestic dogs come from “western” and “Arctic” dog lineages. Since their arrival in Australia, dingoes have remained genetically isolated.

3. An independent evolutionary lineage

From a genetic point of view, dingoes are more distinct from domestic dogs than domestic dog breeds are from each other. Modern dog breeds have undergone waves of mixing and human selection, while dingoes have not. This is why dingoes lack the genetic adaptations to starch-rich diets that domestic dogs evolved alongside agriculture and human contact.

Dingoes have carved out their own ecological niche in Australia’s unique environments, from deserts to snowy mountains. They have developed separate traits such as hyperflexible joints and a single breeding season over autumn and winter. By contrast, humans have heavily shaped the evolutionary path of domestic dogs, making them reliant on us.

4. Clear up whether dogs found in South-East Asia are dingoes

Some researchers have suggested dingo-like village dogs in South-East Asia are actually dingoes. While dingoes share some ancestors with these dogs, modern genetic evidence shows dingoes and their closest relatives, New Guinea singing dogs, are a separate population.

What’s in a name?

The question over how dogs evolved is not yet resolved. Some taxonomists believe dogs are a subspecies of wolf, while others disagree. Given this uncertainty, giving dingoes a unique scientific name can be done in two ways.

If we consider dingoes distinct from both dogs and wolves, the most appropriate name would be Canis dingo — recognising the dingo as its own species with a long, separate evolutionary history.

But if dingoes are not distinct from wolves, the correct name would be Canis lupus dingo. This would treat it as a subspecies of wolf, while still acknowledging its wild lineage separate to domestic dogs.

The name of the dingo matters

There is real power in the name of a species.

Under some state laws, dingoes are defined as “wild dogs”. This means dingoes are targeted for lethal control – even in many national parks. If treated as a domestic dog, dingoes can be ineligible for official threatened species lists.

As a result, the species is often overlooked for targeted conservation, while its culturally significant role for many First Nations peoples is often not recognised nor respected.

Defining dingoes as a distinct species or subspecies would allow governments to differentiate them from domestic dogs in laws, policies and conservation programs, and align western science with First Nations knowledge holders who have long distinguished between dingoes and dogs.

Ending decades of confusion will take work

To clear up long-running disagreement over the dingo, we believe the time has come for an independent, evidence-based review by a national scientific body. This would bring together geneticists, ecologists, taxonomists and First Nations representatives.

This approach helped untangle similarly knotty problems overseas, such as the United States National Academies’ review to settle the taxonomy of red and Mexican wolves.

An Australian review could finally end decades of confusion for the dingo and ensure our laws reflect the most up-to-date scientific evidence.

Taxonomic debates might sound obscure. But this naming question will shape the future of one of Australia’s ecologically and culturally significant animals.

We believe the evidence shows the dingo is not a domestic dog – it’s on its own path. The question is whether Australia can accept this evidence.

By Patrick Finnerty (Postdoctoral Research Fellow in Conservation and Wildlife Management, University of Sydney), Euan Ritchie (Professor in Wildlife Ecology and Conservation, School of Life & Environmental Sciences, Deakin University) and Rhys Cairncross (Ecologist and PhD Researcher, University of Sydney).

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Australia is home to an extraordinary variety of wildlife, ranging from striking palm cockatoos to elusive mountain pygmy-possums and remarkable rat-kangaroos.

Most of us never get to see these creatures in real life – and that’s a real shame. Spending time in nature looking for wildlife is more than just a hobby – it’s a way to reconnect with the natural world and remember why it matters.

But how do you actually see these creatures for yourself? It’s often easier than you think.

As wildlife researchers, we’ve spent a long time in the field looking for wildlife. Here are ten standout locations where you have a good chance of seeing some genuinely remarkable Australian creatures – and tips on doing so without causing them stress or harming the environment.

1. Kutini-Payamu / Iron Range National Park, Queensland

Located in far north Queensland, Iron Range is renowned for lush rainforests and rich wildlife. Here, you can spot majestic palm cockatoos, secretive green pythons, the striking green, red and blue hues of eclectus parrots and the adorable common spotted cuscus, a species of possum. These species also occur in Papua New Guinea, but the Cape York region is the only place to spot them in Australia.

Spotting tips: Walk the trails with binoculars during peak times for bird activity, early morning or late afternoon. At night, use a head torch to spot pythons, frogs, death adders, geckoes, rufous owls, cuscus and other nocturnal fauna.

2. Atherton Tablelands, Queensland

Inland from Cairns lies the Atherton Tablelands, an elevated region with a cooler climate and abundant and diverse wildlife. Here, you can spot vibrant Ulysses butterflies, shy platypuses and rare marsupials. Australia’s largest snake, the scrub python, can block entire roads as it warms itself up before the night’s hunt. Rare waterfall frogs can be spotted in fast-flowing falls.

Lumholtz’s tree kangaroos can be spotted hopping along limbs at Curtain Fig National Park and Mount Hypipamee National Park, alongside green ringtail possums and striped possums with elongated fingers to ferret out grubs.

Meanwhile, musky rat-kangaroos can be seen “gardening” on the forest floor at Lake Eacham and Lake Barrine. These are the smallest kangaroos and the only non-hopping species. Your best chance of sighting an elusive northern quoll or northern bettong is at Davies Creek National Park.

Spotting tips: Take guided night walks to glimpse nocturnal wildlife. Use a head torch with a red filter. Move quietly and regularly stop to listen for movement and animal calls. Binoculars are a must for spotting creatures high in the canopy.

3. Western Treatment Plant, Victoria

Surprisingly, Melbourne’s Western Treatment Plant is a mecca for birdwatchers. The huge wastewater facility is recognised as a wetland of international importance. Migratory birds such as sharp-tailed sandpipers and red-necked stints can be seen, while well-hidden bitterns, rare orange-bellied parrots and Australia’s dancing crane, the brolga, can be glimpsed feeding in dense heath during cooler months. Almost 300 species have been recorded here.

Spotting tips: Visit during migration seasons (spring and autumn) for the best birdwatching opportunities. Use binoculars, telescopes, or telephoto lenses for close-up views without disturbance. Visitors need a permit.

4. Lunawanna-allonah / Bruny Island and Wukaluwikiwayna / Maria Island, Tasmania

South of Hobart lies Bruny Island, a sanctuary for endangered species such as eastern and spotted-tailed quolls. Most of Tasmania’s endemic bird species are found here, such as green rosellas and forty-spotted pardalotes. Rare swift parrots can also be seen.

North of Hobart is Maria Island, an island national park where no cars are allowed – and where Tasmanian devils, bandicoots and wombats can readily be seen.

Spotting tips: Join guided tours to see nocturnal wildlife or birds in Bruny Island’s tall forests. Eastern quolls can often be seen at night on the main road when heading north from the island’s isthmus. Tasmanian devils and bandicoots can be seen around campsites at Maria Island at night.

5. Flinders, Portsea and Blairgowrie piers, Victoria

Snorkelling the cool waters beneath Flinders, Portsea and Blairgowrie piers is a revelation. Here live spectacular weedy sea dragons, sand octopuses, big-belly seahorses, ornate cowfish, smooth and eagle rays, Port Jackson and banjo sharks and vividly coloured nudibranchs.

Spotting tips: Snorkel or dive during calm weather for best visibility. Keep your distance from marine life for their safety (and yours).

6. Sydney Harbour and cliff tops, New South Wales

Sydney’s iconic harbour and surrounding cliffs are well suited for marine life enthusiasts. Every winter, humpback and southern right whales migrate past the headlands, while pods of bottlenose dolphins can be seen year-round. White-bellied sea eagles, Australasian gannets and short-tailed shearwaters add to the spectacle in the skies.

Spotting tips: Join whale-watching cruises between May and November for the best chance. Clifftop spotting is best done with binoculars from Royal National Park, North Head, Clovelly and The Gap.

7. Binybara / Lee Point, Northern Territory

Just north of Darwin is Lee Point, one of the best places to glimpse the elusive black-footed tree-rat. Weighing almost a kilo, this threatened native rodent is an expert climber and lives in tree hollows.

Around 200 bird species have also been recorded here. Flocks of great knots, eastern curlews and grey-tailed tattlers feed on the mudflats, while the woodlands are home to the dazzling colour of Gouldian finches and the charismatic blue-winged kookaburra.

Spotting tips: Visit at night to see the tree-rat moving between trees, or come at low tide to watch thousands of shorebirds feeding. Binoculars will be invaluable.

8. Wadjemup / Rottnest Island, Western Australia

Offshore from Perth, Rottnest Island is rightly famous for its smiling quokkas. But other unique species such as King’s skink and venomous dugites can be seen here too, while osprey nests occupied for decades can be seen on rock stacks. The reefs around the island have WA’s southernmost coral.

Spotting tips: Cycling is the best way to explore different habitats on the largely car-free island. Keep your distance from quokkas and other wildlife to ensure they stay wild.

9. Kunama Namadgi / Kosciuszko National Park, New South Wales

Australia’s highest peaks are home to the nation’s most remarkable alpine wildlife. Birdwatchers can spot gang-gang cockatoos feeding in eucalypts, while lucky hikers might glimpse an alpine dingo crossing a snow-dusted plain, or see a strikingly coloured Corroborree frog in a bog or fen.

This is the only place in the world where you can encounter a critically endangered mountain pygmy-possum. These tiny marsupials hibernate under winter snow and emerge to feed on bogong moths in spring.

Kosciuszko is also home to the native smoky mouse and – remarkably – to Leadbeater’s possum, long thought to be confined to Victoria’s Central Highlands.

Spotting tips: For the best chance of spotting a mountain pygmy-possum, visit between late spring and early summer when the snow has melted. Stick to alpine boulder fields such as those around Charlotte Pass and Mount Kosciuszko. You may need to camp overnight to see nocturnal possums and the smoky mouse. Binoculars and patience are essential to glimpse these shy species.

10. Karta Pintingga/Kangaroo Island, South Australia

Southwest of Adelaide lies the large Kangaroo Island, home to echidnas, tammar wallabies, a rare subspecies of the glossy black-cockatoo and Kangaroo Island dunnarts. Koalas are common. While the island’s isolation has protected these species, the 2020 megafires caused much damage. Wildlife is now bouncing back.

Spotting tips: Explore national parks and conservation areas with a local guide. Observe from a distance.

Take care of wildlife

Wildlife spotting has to be done with care. Think of yourself as a guest in someone else’s home.

Keep a respectful distance, don’t touch wildlife, move quietly and use binoculars or a zoom lens for a closer look rather than creeping closer.

If you’re out after dark, make sure your head torch has a red light option. This light is vastly less damaging to animal eyes optimised for the dark.

When snorkelling or diving, avoid hitting corals and sponges with your fins.

It can be tempting to use playback of calls to attract birds such as owls. But this is very disruptive and can do real damage.

Avoid moving logs, bark, stones and other habitat in your effort to see animals. This is disruptive and risks bites from venomous creatures.

Clean and disinfect your boots before moving between areas to avoid spreading soil-borne pathogens such as cinnamon fungus and chytrid fungus.

Whatever you do, don’t feed wildlife. It might seem harmless, but it can change their natural behaviour, make them ill and even make them dependent on people.

Posting sightings on citizen science apps such as iNaturalist and FrogID can help scientists learn more about these species and aid their conservation.

Enjoy the journey

As wildlife researchers, we often seek out species in their natural habitat. These moments never lose their impact.

It’s a remarkable thing to see a creature in its natural habitat. A successful sighting gives a sense of awe and joy. At a time when many people are cut off from nature, deliberately seeking out these species is a powerful and rewarding act.

By Rachel Mason (PhD candidate in Conservation Biology, Deakin University) and Euan Ritchie (Professor in Wildlife Ecology and Conservation, School of Life & Environmental Sciences, Deakin University).

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Killing carnivores to protect livestock, wildlife and people is an emotive and controversial issue that can cause community conflict. Difficult decisions about managing predators must be supported by strong scientific evidence.

In Australia, predators such as dingoes and foxes are often shot or poisoned with baits to prevent them from killing sheep and cattle. Feral cats and foxes are also killed to protect native wildlife.

But research elsewhere suggests public perceptions of how predators affect ecosystems and livestock are not always accurate.

Our recent study sought to shed light on these controversies. We examined the scat, or poo, left behind by dingoes, foxes and cats. We focused on the mallee region of Victoria and South Australia where there are calls to resume dingo culling to stop them killing livestock.

A contentious issue

Our study took place in the Big Desert-Wyperfeld-Ngarkat reserve complex in the semi-arid mallee region of Victoria and South Australia. This continuous ecosystem comprises about 10,000 km² of protected native mallee bushland, and is entirely surrounded by crop and livestock farming areas.

Fox-baiting is conducted along the boundaries of Victorian-managed reserve areas. Dingo baiting occurs in the South Australian-managed section of the park.

Since March 2024, the small dingo population has been protected in Victorian-managed areas due to their critically low numbers in the region.

Prior to the change, Victorian farmers and authorised trappers could control dingoes on private land and within public land up to 3km from farms. Farmers say they have lost livestock since dingoes were protected.

What are predators eating in the mallee region?

We collected and analysed 136 dingo, 200 fox and 25 cat scats to determine what each predator in the area was eating and how their diets differed.

Livestock was not a major part of the diet of dingoes, foxes or cats. Some 7% of fox scats contained sheep or cattle remains. This was more than that of dingoes, at 2% of scats. No feral cat scats contained livestock remains.

The dingo diet was dominated by kangaroos, wallabies and emus, which comprised more than 70% of their diet volume.

Cats and foxes consumed more than 15 times the volume of small native mammals compared with dingoes, including threatened species such as fat-tailed dunnarts.

Our data must be interpreted with caution. Scat analysis cannot differentiate between livestock killed by predators and those that are scavenged. It also can’t tell us about animals that a predator killed but did not eat.

In 2022–23, when we collected the scats, rainfall in the area was high and prey was abundant. So, while we found livestock were not likely to be a substantial part of these predators’ diets at the time of our research, this can change depending on environmental conditions.

For example, fire and extended drought may force predators to move further to find food and water. They may move from conservation areas to private land, where they could prey on livestock.

A taste for certain prey

A predator’s poo doesn’t tell the full story of how it affects prey populations.

To understand this further, we used motion-sensing wildlife cameras to assess which prey were available in the ecosystem. We compared it to the frequency they occurred in predator’s diets. This allowed us to determine if dingoes, foxes or cats target specific prey.

We found foxes and cats both consumed small mammals proportionally more than we expected, given the prey’s availability in the study area. Cats consumed birds at a higher rate than expected, and dingoes consumed echidnas more than expected.

Further intensive monitoring work is needed to determine how these dietary preferences affect the populations of prey species.

Embracing the evidence

The findings build on a substantial previous research suggesting foxes and cats pose a significant threat to native mammals, birds, reptiles and other wildlife, including many threatened species. Our results suggest foxes may cause more harm to sheep than dingoes overall – a finding consistent with research elsewhere in Victoria.

Dingoes were the only predator species that regularly preyed on kangaroos and wallabies. These species are abundant in the region. They can also compete with livestock for grazing pastures, consume crops and degrade native vegetation.

Currently, dingoes are killed on, or fenced out of, large parts of Australia due to their perceived threat to livestock.

Lethal control of invasive species remains important to protect native wildlife and agriculture. But such decisions should be based on evidence, to avoid unforeseen and undesirable results.

For example, fox control can lead to increased feral cat numbers and harm to native prey. Fewer dingoes may mean more feral goats and kangaroos.

Non-lethal and effective alternatives exist to indiscriminately killing predators to protect livestock, such as protection dogs and donkeys. These measures are being embraced by farmers and graziers globally, often with high and sustained success.

In Australia, governments should better embrace and support evidence-based and effective approaches that allow farming, native carnivores and other wildlife to coexist.

By Euan Ritchie (Professor in Wildlife Ecology and Conservation, School of Life & Environmental Sciences, Deakin University), John Woinarski (Professor of Conservation Biology, Charles Darwin University) and Martine Maron (Professor of Environmental Management, The University of Queensland).

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Australia is a place of great natural beauty, home to many species found nowhere else on Earth. But it’s also particularly vulnerable to introduced animals, diseases and weeds. Habitat destruction, pollution and climate change make matters worse. To conserve what’s special, we need far greater care.

Unfortunately, successive federal governments have failed to protect nature. Australia now has more than 2,000 threatened species and “ecological communities” – groups of native species that live together and interact. This threatened list is growing at an alarming rate.

The Albanese government came to power in 2022 promising to reform the nation’s nature laws, following a scathing review of the laws. But it has failed to do so.

If re-elected, Labor has vowed to complete its reforms and introduce a federal Environment Protection Agency, in some other form.

The Coalition has not made such a commitment. Instead, it refers to “genuine conservation”, balancing the environment and the economy. They’ve also promised to cut “green tape” for industry.

But scientific evidence suggests much more is required to protect Australia’s natural wonders.

Fighting invaders

Labor has made a welcome commitment of more than A$100 million to counter “highly pathogenic avian influenza”. This virulent strain of bird flu is likely to kill millions of native birds and other wildlife.

The government also provided much-needed funding for a network of safe havens for threatened mammals. These safe-havens exclude cats, foxes and other invasive species.

But much more needs to be done. Funding is urgently needed to eradicate red imported fire ants, before eradication becomes impossible. Other election commitments to look for include:

• increased biosecurity funding, to prevent new incursions
• long-term investment in eradicating major pests and weeds from key sites
• support for research into new tools to control invasive species such as feral cats, for which no broad-scale solution is currently possible
• no reversal or weakening of policies aimed at curbing invasive pests such as feral horses in national parks
• new laws to ensure threat abatement plans are implemented
• adequate funds to manage invasive species across Australia’s expanding protected areas
• national coordination and leadership to stop the indiscriminate use of poisons that can spread through ecosystems and food-chains, killing non-target animals such as owls, quolls, Tasmanian devils, reptiles and frogs.

Stopping land clearing and habitat destruction

The states are largely responsible for controlling land clearing. But when land clearing affects “matters of national environmental significance” such as a nationally listed threatened species or ecological community, it becomes a federal matter.

Such proposals are supposed to be referred to the federal environment minister for assessment under the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation (EPBC) Act.

But most habitat destruction is never referred. And if it is, it’s mostly deemed “not a controlled action”. That means no further consideration is required and the development can proceed.

Only about 1.5% of the hundreds of thousands of hectares of land cleared in Australia every year is fully assessed under the EPBC Act.

This means our threatened species and ecological communities are suffering a “death by a thousand cuts”.

How do we fix this? A starting point is to introduce “national environmental standards” of the kind envisaged in the 2020 review of the EPBC Act by Professor Graeme Samuel.

A strong Environment Protection Agency could ensure impacts on biodiversity are appropriately assessed and accounted for.

Protecting threatened species

For Australia to turn around its extinction crisis, prospective elected representatives and governments must firmly commit to the following actions.

Stronger environmental law and enforcement is essential for tackling biodiveristy decline and extinction. This should include what’s known as a “climate trigger”, which means any proposal likely to produce a significant amount of greenhouse gases would have to be assessed under the EPBC Act.

This is necessary because climate change is among the greatest threats to biodiversity. But the federal environment minister is currently not legally bound to consider – or authorised to refuse – project proposals based on their greenhouse gas emissions. In an attempt to pass the EPBC reforms in the Senate last year, the Greens agreed to postpone their demand for a climate trigger.

Key threats to species, including habitat destruction, invasive species, climate change, and pollution, must be prevented or reduced. Aligning government policies and priorities to ensure environmental goals aren’t undermined by economic and development interests is essential.

A large increase in environmental spending – to at least 1% of the federal budget – is vital. It would ensure sufficient support for conservation progress and meeting legal requirements of the EPBC Act, including listing threatened species and designing and implementing recovery plans when required.

Show nature the money!

Neither major party has committed to substantial increases in environmental spending in line with what experts suggest is urgently needed.

Without such increased investment Australia’s conservation record will almost certainly continue to deteriorate. The loss of nature hurts us all. For example, most invasive species not only affect biodiversity; they have major economic costs to productivity.

Whoever forms Australia’s next government, we urge elected leaders to act on the wishes of 96% of surveyed Australians calling for more action to conserve nature.

By Euan Ritchie, Professor in Wildlife Ecology and Conservation, School of Life & Environmental Sciences, Deakin University.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

What do the Australian lungfish, ghost bat, sandhill dunnart and southern and central greater gliders have in common? They’re all threatened species that need a formal “recovery plan” – but do not have one.

Today, environmental group the Wilderness Society launched a case in the Federal Court against Environment Minister Tanya Plibersek, arguing she and successive environment ministers have failed to meet their legal obligations to create threatened species recovery plans.

Other species forming the basis of the case are Baudin’s cockatoo, the Australian grayling, Carnaby’s black cockatoo, red goshawk, forest red-tailed black cockatoo and the Tasmanian wedge-tailed eagle.

Many other species and ecological communities also don’t have recovery plans. If successful, the case would set a precedent compelling future environment ministers to meet their legal obligations and improve Australia’s dire conservation record. This is a significant moment for conservation in Australia – testing how accountable environment ministers are in preventing species extinctions.

Why do recovery plans matter?

Threatened species recovery plans lay out very clearly why species or ecological communities are in trouble and the actions necessary to save them. Once a plan is in place, it can directly benefit the species by tackling threats and safeguarding habitat.

Proposals such as a new farm, suburb or mining project can be assessed by the environment minister and rejected if they are inconsistent with recovery plans and place threatened species at increased risk of extinction. Recovery plans have helped dozens of species come back from the brink.

Under Australia’s national environmental laws, the environment minister must decide whether a recovery plan is required for a species or ecological community listed as threatened.

If a plan is ordered, it must typically be created within three years. But a 2022 Auditor-General’s report found just 2% of plans met this timeframe.

Recovery is possible, but plans are vital

Successive governments have failed to keep up with creating and implementing recovery plans in a timely manner. The perennial and chronic lack of funding for conservation means there’s little capacity to do the vital but time-consuming work of planning and recovery.

As a result, the federal government has increasingly shifted to offering conservation advices in place of recovery plans. Conservation advices can be produced and updated faster than recovery plans. This is useful if, say, a new threat emerges and needs a rapid response.

But there’s a key legal difference. When the environment minister is considering a project such as land clearing for new farmland or a mine, they need only consider any conservation advice in place. When a recovery plan is in place, the minister is legally obliged not to approve actions which are contrary to its objectives and would make the plight of a species or ecological community worse.

A conservation advice can be thought of more like a fact sheet without the same legal weight or accountability that recovery plans have.

In March 2022, the Morrison government scrapped recovery plans for 176 threatened species and habitats, despite thousands of submissions arguing against this.

After the Albanese government took power in May 2022, it pledged to end “wilful neglect” of the environment and to introduce stronger environmental laws. Sadly, this commitment has not been honoured.

Why do we need recovery plans?

Australia’s species protection record is unenviable. Since European colonisation, more than 100 species have been driven to extinction and more than 2,000 species and ecological communities are listed at risk of suffering the same fate.

For a species to be considered threatened, its population has to have shrunk or meet other criteria putting it at risk of extinction. The severity of the decline and hence its extinction risk will determine how it’s categorised, from vulnerable through to critically endangered. Recovery plans lay out the research required to actually recover these species, meaning helping their populations to grow out of the danger zone.

A key role for these plans is to coordinate planning and action between relevant interest groups and agencies. This is especially important for species found across state and territory borders, such as the southern greater glider and the migratory swift parrot. The greater glider should have had a recovery plan in place since 2016, but does not.

Are individual plans still worthwhile?

Faced with so many species in need of protection and limited funding, prominent figures including former Environment Minister Peter Garrett have argued we should focus our efforts on protecting ecosystems rather than single species to make the best use of scarce funds.

But there is a deeper issue. Australia is one of the wealthiest nations in the world. It has the capacity to greatly increase conservation spending without impoverishing humans, and should do so for the benefit of the economy, culture and our health and wellbeing.

That’s not to say ecosystem protection isn’t worthwhile. After all, ecosystems are made up of species and their interactions with each other and their environment. You cannot have healthy species without healthy ecosystems and vice versa.

But if we focus only on protecting large expanses of wetland, forest and grasslands, we risk overlooking a key issue. Two species in the same ecosystem can be very differently affected by a specific threat (predation by foxes, for instance). Some species can even have conflicting management needs. For some species, invasive species are the biggest threat, while climate change and intensified fire regimes threaten others the most.

Extinction is a choice

As Australia’s natural world continues to deteriorate, climate change deepens and worsening wildlife woes abound, these issues will no doubt be front of mind for many in the upcoming federal election.

It can be easy to see these trends as inevitable. But they are not – the collapse of nature is a choice. We have what we need for success, including traditional, ecological and conservation knowledge. What’s sorely needed is political will.

There were once fewer than 50 northern hairy-nosed wombats alive. Today, that number exceeds 400. When supported, conservation can succeed.

Almost all Australians want their government to do more to save our species. Let us hope whoever forms the next government takes up that challenge – even if it takes court cases to prompt action.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Now that the Paris Olympics and Paralympics have disappeared from our screens, let’s get back to watching animal videos.

But seriously, have you ever paused to think about the athletic abilities of Australian wildlife?

In my research as an ecologist, I’m constantly amazed by the strength, speed and resilience of our native animals. Their prowess is testament to the wonders of evolution, and the necessity of species having to adapt to challenging and changing environments in order to survive.

Let’s take a closer look at some of our best competitors and how might they fare, against humans and overseas entrants. On your marks, get set… swim, hop, dig, dance, glide!

Swimming

Australians are renowned for being strong swimmers. But what is the fastest swimmer in the animal kingdom?

On this there is much debate. Some suggest it’s the Indo Pacific sailfish, clocking in at about 30km/hr. That’s impressive, but much slower than oft-cited (but inaccurate) claims it can travel at more than 100km/hr.

For perspective, the fastest human to swim the 50 metres freestyle is American Caeleb Dressel, completing this in a time of 20.16 seconds. That’s roughly 9km/h – faster than many people jog, but still no match for a sailfish.

As in humans, swimming speed in fishes tends to increase with body length. Larger species that challenge sailfish for the fastest swimmer title include blue or black marlin. Shorter, torpedo-like bluefin tuna are also in contention. All are found in Australian waters, though not exclusively.

Sprinting, long and high jump

Aussie icons, red kangaroos can reach speeds of around 60-70km/hr. But they are no match for cheetahs, which can move at more than 120km/hr.

Long jump is surely the kangaroo’s main event. Red kangaroos can jump a staggering 13 metres or more. Amazingly, this might not be enough to clinch gold. Snow leopards can jump more than 15 metres.

Kangaroos can clear heights of up to 3m, so would perform well in the high jump. But they’d finish behind bottlenose dolphins, which can jump over 7m in the air, just for kicks.

Scaled for body size, though, both species would be embarrassed by a tiny insect known as a froghopper. It jumps to heights of more than 140 times its body length.

Battles of strength

African elephants can lift more than 1,000kg and weaver ants more than 100 times their own body weight.

But relative to size, a truly impressive champion is Australia’s horned dung beetle. At just a centimetre long, these diminutive powerhouses can pull more than 1,100 times their own body weight, roughly equating to an average man lifting two fully-loaded 18-wheeler trucks.

And yet, horned dung beetles might still only claim silver. Another invertebrate Aussie, the tiny tropical moss mite, is perhaps the world’s strongest animal. It can pull more than 1,180 times its weight.

Packing the fastest, deadliest punch

In terms of combat sports, bigger is not always better.

Peacock mantis shrimps – invertebrates found in Australian marine waters and elsewhere – have the swiftest and most powerful punch in the lightweight crustacean division.

They kill prey by punching them with strong, club-like appendages. They deliver blows at up to 23m per sec, akin to the speed and force of a .22 calibre bullet being fired.

So powerful is the punch, it vaporises water and creates a super-hot shockwave that breaks up and incapacitates its prey.

Tantalising contests

What about a digging contest? Eastern barred bandicoots can shift 4.8 tonnes of soil a year. How would that stack up against marsupial moles, which can disappear almost instantly into desert sands? Or the expert excavations of wombats and aardvarks that can dig more than half a metre in 15 seconds?

In terms of free-diving and flying, there’s really no contest. Cuvier’s beaked whale can dive nearly 3000m and peregrine falcons can reach over 320 km/hr. These animals are found across the globe, however – not just in Australia.

Australia’s largest gliding marsupial, the greater glider, can sail up to 100m between trees. But gliding gold would surely go to the giant flying squirrel, which can glide up to 450m.

I’d love to see a shooting contest between Australia’s archer fish and Madagascar’s panther chameleon. But finding the right arena for both aquatic and land-based sharpshooters would be tricky.

Raygun’s kangaroo hop is now legendary, but a breaking (break dancing) contest between a peacock spider, spanish dancer (a type of nudibranch) and a magnificent riflebird might genuinely break the internet.

Appreciating wildlife athletes

So who would win a global contest for the best wildlife athlete overall?

If the competition was on land and focused on running, jumping, strength and climbing, it’s hard to go past the overall abilities of a Bengal tiger.

Many amazing wildlife athletes are threatened with extinction. Others are gone forever.

They include the incredible oolacunta – also known as the desert rat kangaroo. It’s powers of endurance in the desert are the stuff of folklore. As legendary Australian mammalogist Hedley Herbert Finlayson wrote in 1931:

Its speed for such an atom, was wonderful, and its endurance amazing … when we finally got it, it had taken the starch out of three mounts and run us 12 miles; all under such adverse conditions of heat and rough going, as to make it almost incredible that so small a frame should be capable of such an immense output of energy.

Let’s celebrate wildlife and their athletic abilities and ensure they have a secure future.

By Anthony Rendall (Deakin University), Amy Coetsee (The University of Melbourne), Aviya Naccarella (Deakin University) and Euan Ritchie (Deakin University).

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The eastern barred bandicoot was once found in abundance across the basalt plains of western Victoria. But habitat destruction and predation by introduced red foxes drove the species to the brink of extinction on the mainland.

Establishing populations in fenced reserves was critical in providing insurance against extinction. To further increase bandicoot numbers to provide long-term security against extinction, we needed more fox-free land.

A bold plan was hatched: move the species to where the predators weren’t. Introduce them to Victoria’s fox-free Phillip and French islands.

Six years later, the bandicoot made conservation history, as the first species in Australia to be reclassified from extinct in the wild to endangered.

Why don’t we translocate all endangered species to islands? The technique can be effective, but can come with unwanted consequences.

The surprising benefits of translocation

Eastern barred bandicoots are ecosystem engineers. As they dig for their dinner of worms, beetles, bulbs, fungi and other foods, their industrious work improves soil quality, and in turn, the health of vegetation.

So when we translocate threatened species, we can get a double win – a rapid increase in their populations and restoration of lost ecosystem functions.

Australia’s landscapes look very different than they did before European colonisation around 230 years ago.

Industrialised farming, introduced predators and habitat destruction and fragmentation are driving biodiversity decline and extinctions. As species die out, ecosystems lose the vital functions wildlife perform. Without them, ecosystems might not operate as well or even collapse – a little like a poorly serviced car engine.

We feel the loss most acutely when we lose keystone species on which many other species depend, such as oysters and bees. Restoring these functions can improve biodiversity and the sustainability of food production. For instance, encouraging owls to return to farmland can cut the use of damaging rodent poisons, as owls eat thousands of mice and rats yearly.

Before colonisation, industrious digging mammals and their soil excavations were extremely widespread. Regrettably, introduced foxes and cats have made short work of many of Australia’s diggers. Six of 29 digging species are now extinct, including the lesser bilby, pig-footed bandicoot and desert rat-kangaroo. Many others are endangered.

Could translocation save more species?

Conservationists have successfully translocated species such as the western swamp tortoise, the Shark Bay mouse, and northern quolls.

New environments don’t necessarily need to be predator-free. The eastern barred bandicoot is thriving on Phillip and French Island, in the presence of feral and domestic cats. The key is there are no foxes.

Many islands are now being thought of as conservation arks, able to provide safe havens for several threatened species at once. Dirk Hartog Island, Western Australia’s largest, is now home to reintroduced western quolls, dibblers, mulgaras and other small mammals, as well as two translocated hare-wallaby species.

Why is translocation not more common?

The technique can work very well – but it can also backfire.

In the 1920s, conservationists undertook the first translocation in Australia by moving koalas to Phillip and French Island – the same Victorian islands now a refuge for bandicoots. While this protected koalas from hunting pressure, koala populations exploded, and the tree-dwelling marsupials ate themselves out of house and home in some areas.

In 2012, conservationists began introducing Tasmanian devils to Maria Island, just off Tasmania’s east coast. They wanted to conserve a healthy population free from the contagious facial tumour which has devastated their populations. On Maria Island, the devils became too successful, wiping out the island’s penguin and shearwater populations.

You can see translocations aren’t a silver bullet. We have to carefully consider the pros and cons of any such conservation intervention. Ecosystems are complex. It’s not easy to predict what will happen to an ecosystem if we introduce a species new to the area.

The decision to translocate a species is a value judgement – it prioritises one species over the broader ecosystem. Opponents of translocation question whether we are doing the right thing in valuing efforts to conserve a single species over the innate value of the existing ecosystem.

What’s the best approach in future?

Translocation is not the end goal. Islands cannot support the vast array of threatened species in Australia.

The end goal is to establish and expand threatened species populations on the mainland in fenced reserves before eventually reintroducing them to the wild where they will encounter introduced predators.

Research is being done to explore how we can make this work, such as:

1) Predator-savvy wildlife: some native species may be able to adapt to living alongside introduced predators – with some help. For example, conservationists have exposed semi-captive bilbies to small numbers of feral cats with the aim of increasing their wariness and ultimately boosting their chances of survival. Results have been encouraging.

2) Building ecosystem resilience: we know more intact native ecosystems can reduce the chance of damage from invasive species . That means re-establishing native ecosystems could boost their resilience.

Moving a species from its home is a bold and risky decision. It’s critical local communities and First Nations groups are consulted and able to guide discussions and any eventual actions.

For their part, governments, land managers and conservationists must think more broadly about how we might best conserve species and ecosystems in a rapidly changing world.

By Jaana Dielenberg, University Fellow, Charles Darwin University; Euan Ritchie, Professor in Wildlife Ecology and Conservation, School of Life & Environmental Sciences, Deakin University; Loren Fardell, Research Fellow, The University of Queensland, and Therésa Jones, Professor in Evolution and Behaviour, The University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Light and sound shows in parks can enthral crowds with their colour, music and storytelling. Lasting for weeks to months, the shows provide entertainment and can boost local economies. But unless they are well-located, the shows can also harm wildlife.

A planned production at a wildlife sanctuary in outer Melbourne has brought these concerns to the fore. In April and May this year, a wildlife reserve on the Mornington Peninsula will host Harry Potter: A Forbidden Forest Experience. The event involves a two-kilometre night walk where, according to organisers, characters from the film are “brought to life”.

The event has prompted an outcry from people worried about the effect on the reserve’s vulnerable wildlife. The sanctuary, known as The Briars, is home to native animals including powerful and boobook owls, owlet-nightjars, koalas, wallabies, Krefft’s gliders, lizards, frogs, moths and spiders. A petition calling for the event to be relocated has attracted more than 21,000 signatures.

Research shows artificial light, sound and the presence of lots of people at night can harm wildlife. It’s not hard to see why. Imagine if a music and light show, and thousands of people, turned up at your house every night for weeks on end. How would you feel?

A history of community opposition

In addition to the lights and sounds, these shows can involve artificial smoke and animated sculptures. While they often take place along existing walking trails, they attract huge crowds at a time when animals usually have the place to themselves.

Most of Australia’s mammals and frogs and many bird and reptile species are nocturnal, or active at night. They have adapted to the natural darkness, sounds and smells of the night.

The Harry Potter experience planned for The Briars has taken place elsewhere around the world, including at a nature area near the Belgian capital of Brussels. That event, in February last year, was also opposed by locals on ecological grounds. Belgian Minister for Nature Zuhal Demir has reportedly said the show would not return this year due to concern for wildlife.

Light shows proposed for other wildlife conservation areas have also faced community opposition. In Australia, there were calls to halt the Parrtjima light festival in the Alice Springs Desert Park over potential harm to the threatened black-footed rock wallabies. The Lumina light show proposed for Mount Coot-tha in Brisbane has also attracted concern for wildlife.

Light, sounds, action!

Research shows artificial light affects wildlife in many ways. For example, it can change their hormone levels, and the numbers and health of their offspring.

Light also interferes with the ability of many species to navigate. This can cause birds to become disorientated and crash. It can also prevent baby turtles from finding the sea.

Some animals will forgo feeding or drinking and attracting mates. Other animals will try to move to a darker location. In the Belgian case, locals claimed owls left the park to avoid the lights.

Studies of small mammals such as bats, micro-bats, possums and bandicoots have shown many will avoid using habitat that is artificially lit. When there is no alternative dark habitat, species forced to deal with bright conditions – whether natural or artificial – have been found to reduce their activity.

Conversely, some animals are attracted to light. Insects such as moths will cluster around the artificial light source, unable to leave. Some will become so exhausted they will become easy prey.

What’s more, human-caused noise also stresses animals and changes animal behaviour. It masks the natural soundscape, making it harder for animals to find mates or hear the calls of their young. It can also mean animals can’t hear predators or their prey.

When thousands of humans travel through an area they leave strong predator-like smells. This can be stressful for wildlife. It can also mask smells vital for an animal’s survival, such as that of food and predators.

Long-term harm

When faced with all this disruption, many nocturnal animals will hide until a site returns to normal, which in the case of light shows is often close to midnight. This cuts in half the time animals have to go about their life-sustaining activities and exposes them to greater risks when they do go out.

Light and sound shows are usually temporary – but can have major long-term impacts.

In species with low birth rates and short lifespans, a disturbance to breeding can be catastrophic. For example, males of the genus Antechinus (small marsupials) live long enough for just one short breeding season. If they are disrupted, there are no second chances.

The stress of human lights, sounds, smells and disturbance can shorten an animal’s life. Stress can make them more prone to illness and create problems with sleeping, reproduction, development and growth that can last for multiple generations.

Find a better location

The Mornington Peninsula Shire Council has defended the Harry Potter event, saying the placement of props, lights and sounds has been carefully considered.

Organisers may have minimised impacts where they can, but evidence suggests the impact on wildlife will still be extensive.

The sanctuary where the event will be held is billed as “an ark – a place which nurtures, protects and celebrates the unique flora and fauna of the peninsula, now rare but not lost”. Deliberately locating a light and sound show at the reserve seems at odds with this mission.

Events such as this clearly affect wildlife. Finding genuinely suitable locations should be done with care – and should avoid wildlife conservation areas altogether.

By Euan Ritchie, Deakin University.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Across the vast Australian continent, feral pigs, feral deer and European rabbits roam in their millions. By different names – wild boar, venison and lapin – these could all be served in a Michelin star restaurant.

Feral and invasive species are becoming popular meals for native wildlife too. For species like the saltwater crocodile and spotted-tailed quoll, the menu is expanding and changing due to the arrival of invasive alien species – one of the greatest threats to biodiversity globally.

The good news is, many invasive alien species make good tucker. Around the world, native wildlife are dining on increasing numbers of exotic prey. In the United States, endangered snail kites — a wetland raptor — crunch through invasive apple snails, red-banded snakes swallow North American bullfrogs in China, dingoes devour feral sambar deer and goats in Australia, Sulawesian toads gobble up introduced yellow crazy ants in Indonesia, and golden eagles and saltwater crocodiles both love eating feral pigs on opposite sides of the Pacific.

Of crocs and pigs

So can we say these invasives are useful in some sense? Exotic prey can help boost numbers of some native predators. Saltwater crocodiles in the Northern Territory are rapidly bouncing back after widespread, severe culling.

Using the bones of crocodiles collected through time, researchers have shown that over roughly half a century, salties have shifted from a diet largely based on fish to a more terrestrial diet, including feral water buffalo and pigs.

This seems like a much-needed good news story for the environment – a natural way to limit feral pigs, one of Australia’s most widespread and damaging invasive species. At present, though, we don’t know for sure that crocs keep pig numbers down.

Pigs and crocodiles live in the fast and slow lanes, respectively. Feral pigs feed and breed, and few things are off the menu. Sows can give birth from around 6 months of age, and produce ten or more piglets in litters once or twice every 12 or so months.

On the other hand, female estuarine crocodiles begin reproducing at around 12 years of age, and do so once a year under the right conditions. Crocodiles cut back on hunting and other activity during cooler months. Together, this means feral pigs can endure relatively high predation rates and still persist in ecosystems in large numbers.

Of quolls and rabbits

The largest of Australia’s four predatory marsupial quoll species, the spotted-tailed quoll, is known to enjoy rabbit even when there is a diverse and abundant selection of native mammals within the same area.

Unfortunately, quolls are now absent or still declining in many places, due likely to competition or predation with the bigger, heavier predators Europeans introduced: feral cats and foxes. In the bush, male cats can be sizeable – exceeding 6 kilos, roughly double the size of your average spotted-tailed quoll.

As quolls have disappeared, rabbits may have taken advantage of the predatory void and expanded. Fast-breeding rabbits are now arguably Australia’s worst invasive alien species. Their sheer numbers support cat and fox populations.

This begs the question – if cats and foxes could be eradicated or greatly reduced in some areas, could we reintroduce quolls to help manage rabbit populations or prevent their return?

Dangerous dinners

Not all introduced prey make safe meals.

Cane toads have devastated some native species such as northern quolls, which naturally prey on native amphibians but cannot survive toad toxin.

Regrettably, a recent attempt to train quolls not to eat cane toads appears to have failed.

But other species have learnt to safely eat cane toads, including the rakali (Australian water rat), which removes and eats toad hearts and livers with surgical precision. The humble bin chicken (white ibis) has also figured out how to make toads safer by washing them.

European house mice and introduced rats can be easy prey for owls, snakes, and many other native predators. Unfortunately, these easy pickings can become their last suppers – not because the rodents are toxic, but because they may well have eaten rodenticide which makes them easier to hunt. Once a sick, dying rodent is eaten, the predator can in turn be poisoned and die. Scavengers who eat poisoned predators can also die, affecting entire food chains and ecosystems.

Sometimes predators can find themselves prey, depending on their age and size. In Australia, large pythons, goannas and monitor lizards eat foxes and cats, but these same reptiles are preyed upon by cats and foxes when younger and smaller.

Invasive prey aren’t going away

As time goes on, invasive prey species can become regular meals for native predators – and part of the food web.

When we try to remove invasive prey species from ecosystems, we must take a big picture view and proceed with great caution.

When feral cats were killed off on New Zealand’s Little Barrier island, it was done with the best intentions: protect the seabirds nesting there. But with the cats gone, invasive rat populations surged and soon began killing the seabird chicks.

In Australia’s arid regions, we now have experimental evidence to suggest biological controls such as rabbit haemorrhagic disease do keep rabbit numbers down, alongside culling and destroying warrens. With the rabbits suppressed, plants and native herbivores can bounce back. This, in turn, pushes cat and fox populations lower, as these two predators maintain their high numbers in arid regions in part due to an abundance of rabbits.

But this doesn’t work in the wetter, more vegetated south-east. Here, there’s little evidence rabbit control greatly affects fox populations.

So should we celebrate crocs chomping on pigs and rakali eating cane toads? Of course – it’s a sign that some of our native predators can adapt to these introduced species. But it’s not true for all native wildlife. Our quolls are doing far worse with the new arrivals.

And for every native predator finding new tucker, there are far more cats and foxes eating birds, reptiles, frogs, and small marsupials, while pigs, deer, camels, horses, donkeys, and water buffalo run amok. We have already set these creatures loose – we must use all means possible to try and rein them in.

By Euan Ritchie, Deakin University; Jack Pascoe, The University of Melbourne; Kirsty Howey, Charles Darwin University; Terry Hughes, James Cook University, and Yung En Chee, The University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Australia’s abysmal rates of extinctions and land clearing since European colonisation are infamous globally. Our national environmental legislation has largely failed to protect biodiversity, including many threatened plants, animals and ecological communities. But change is afoot.

The federal government is reforming our national environmental law. Following a scathing review in 2021, the legislation is being rewritten. While amendments to the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999 (EPBC Act) are yet to be tabled in parliament, the government says “rolling consultation” has begun.

About 30 environment, business and industry groups attended “targeted stakeholder workshops” last month. Public consultation begins with two webinars, on November 23 and 28. Government officials are offering to “explain how the proposed changes are designed to work and how they compare to existing laws”. But they are not sharing the draft legislation yet.

How can we assess whether these new laws can prevent further species loss and habitat destruction? Here’s an essential checklist of five things the law must include if we are to avoid calamity and hasten environmental recovery.

📅⏰Save the date for our upcoming online public webinars to learn about changes to our environmental laws.
Webinar 1: 23 November 2:00 pm to 3:30 pm AEST.
Webinar 2: 28 November, 12:30 pm to 2:00 pm AEST.
Registration links will open shortly. https://t.co/MwAfzv3RRG pic.twitter.com/USUMyOXfFd

— DCCEEW (@DCCEEW) November 10, 2023

1. A climate trigger

The EPBC Act does not explicitly discuss and account for climate change and its impacts. So the federal environment minister is not legally bound to consider – or authorised to refuse – new or expanded coal mines and fossil gas fields based on their future climate impacts.

But climate change clearly threatens biodiversity and special places such as the Great Barrier Reef, as well as human communities and culture.

2. Habitat means homes for wildlife

Protection of sufficient and connected habitat must be central to Australia’s national environmental law. If homes for swift parrots, koalas, greater gliders and other threatened species continue to be destroyed and fragmented, it is all but guaranteed Australia will fail in its stated quest to avoid further extinctions.

Northern Australia is home to exceptional but declining biodiversity that is increasingly threatened by development of pastoral, cotton and fracking industries.

Significant increases in land clearing and water extraction are seldom referred under the EPBC Act, let alone assessed.

Environmental law reform must stem the accelerating loss of biodiversity in this region and elsewhere. Reforms must include expanding the water trigger to apply to shale gas fracking, and ensuring significant land clearing is referred and assessed.

It is also crucial that federal approval powers are not devolved to states and territories, particularly in remote regions where so much damage occurs out of sight and out of mind.

3. Setting clear objectives and measuring outcomes

The new laws must state policy objectives such as no new extinctions and no actions that accelerate climate change.

Decision-makers must be required to address direct, indirect and cumulative threats that undermine these objectives.

The new National Environment Standards (the centrepiece of this law reform) must stipulate red lines not to be crossed, such as no clearing of any critically endangered ecological communities or critical habitat of threatened species.

We should always seek first to avoid harm, then keep harm to a minimum, and only as a last resort, offset remaining impacts – and then only with credible offset plans that fully account for uncertainties in delivering environmental compensation.

4. An independent umpire

We need a well-resourced, independent umpire, operating at arms length from government. This “independent cop on the beat” will need powers to prevent activities and developments deemed too harmful for biodiversity.

The government has vowed to create a national Environmental Protection Agency. The functioning and powers of such an entity risk being severely undermined if the environment minister of the day has the ability to “call-in” projects and make unilateral decisions over whether they can proceed. That would also create concern regarding industry influence and pressure on ministers to approve projects.

It’s essential ministers not only have regard for environmental standards but also follow them to the letter of the law.

Breaking: Forestry Tasmania confirms huge centuries-old tree being trucked through Hobart CBD was from Swift parrot habitat being logged now. @jeremyrockliff says that’s ok! #politas https://t.co/qRDjYztJfS

— Bob Brown Foundation (@BobBrownFndn) October 30, 2023

5. A Voice for Country and culture

Our national environment laws must make room for genuine Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders participation in how matters of cultural and environmental significance are managed.

Our new nature laws must interact with federal cultural heritage laws, which are also under reform. Entities of cultural significance, such as humpback whales and dingoes, must be cared for in a way deemed appropriate by Indigenous Australians. Such a mechanism must be co-designed with Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islanders.

Policy must continue to be developed in partnership with Aboriginal and Torres Strait islander people. We suggest a Land and Sea Country Commissioner, “a Voice for Country”, could lead this ongoing collaboration. We also need to ensure groups are adequately resourced and supported to Care for Country.

We must do better

The time has come to lift our ambitions and truly protect our nation’s precious environment and biodiversity.

Australians want effective, urgent action from government. For cultural, social, economic and environmental reasons, biodiversity conservation should be treated as a public good and receive bipartisan support. It’s not an optional extra. We simply must invest in nature. We cannot afford not to.

By Euan Ritchie (Deakin University), Bradley Smith, (CQUniversity Australia), Kylie M Cairns (UNSW Sydney), Sonya Takau (Indigenous Knowledge), and Whitney Rassip (Indigenous Knowledge).

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Aside from humans, dingoes are Australia’s largest land-based predator. They are arguably our most maligned, misunderstood, and mismanaged native species.

But evidence suggests this iconic canine helps maintain healthy ecosystems. They’re also a tourist draw-card. And they hold deep values for First Nations peoples.

Since colonisation, Australian governments and land managers have trapped, shot, poisoned and excluded dingoes from large parts of their Country. Policy and practices have frequently overlooked First Nations’ perspectives.

It doesn’t have to be this way. We can hear the diverse voices and values of First Nations peoples, livestock producers, ecologists, and others as we shape future policy and practices. By collaborating and drawing from both Indigenous and Western knowledge, we can find ways to live in harmony with our apex predator.

How are dingoes currently treated?

Under federal environmental law, any species present in Australia before AD 1400, such as the dingo, is classified as native. However, dingoes are not listed nationally as a threatened species. So individual state governments make their own decisions about how to treat them.

In the Northern Territory, Queensland and Victoria, dingoes are managed as protected wildlife in National Parks and conservation areas but they’re unprotected on private land.

In Western Australia, South Australia, the Australian Capital Territory and New South Wales, dingoes are unprotected wildlife. That means they are afforded no protection, even in conservation areas.

But state governments also list “wild dogs” as a priority pest species. That allows – even requires – them to be killed on public and private land.

Some states, such as Victoria, have “wild dog” bounties where landholders can turn in wild dog (but more likely dingo) body parts for money.

The state definitions of “wild dogs” includes dingoes and dingo-dog hybrids. This is based on the mistaken belief that interbreeding between dingoes and dogs was widespread across Australia.

But recent DNA research shows dingo-dog hybrids are rare. Most wild dingoes have little to no dog ancestry. This has led scientists, conservationists, and First Nations peoples to call on state governments to change dingo policies.

Stark contrasts in dingo management

Stretching more than 5,600km across Australia, the dingo barrier fence is the longest continuous artificial environmental barrier in the world. It was designed to keep dingoes out of the more productive sheep grazing areas in southeastern Australia.

In South Australia, dingoes south of the “dingo fence” are declared “wild dogs” and subject to an eradication policy. North of the “dingo fence” they are unprotected wildlife.

In contrast, dingoes are listed as threatened throughout Victoria. They are protected on public land (if more than 3 km from a private land boundary).

The existence of an isolated and threatened “Big Desert” wilkerr (dingo) population on the border between these two states highlights their differing approaches.

While the Victorian population is partially protected in the Big Desert-Wyperfeld conservation reserve complex, the South Australian wilkerr population is poisoned four times a year inside Ngarkat Conservation Area.

What do dingoes mean to First Nations peoples?

Dingoes hold strong cultural significance for First Nations peoples across Australia. They are considered loved and respected family members that have always been by their sides. A healthy dingo population is seen as essential for healthy Country and healthy people.

Despite the harms of colonisation on dingoes and First Nations, Indigenous people continue to feel and nurture this connection to dingoes. Maintaining their culture means fulfilling the general cultural obligation and rights of First Nations peoples to protect this sacred animal.

This was reinforced at the National Inaugural First Nations Dingo Forum in Cairns last month (September 15–16). The forum produced a powerful statement signed by more than 20 Nations.

The national dingo declaration is clear: First Nations peoples want an immediate end to the “genocide” (deliberate killing) of dingoes on Country. Lethal control of dingoes is not acceptable, nor justified.

We join the call for an end to the use of the term “wild dog”, because it’s misleading and disrespectful. Pure dingoes, not feral or hybrid wild dogs, are predominately being killed.

First Nations people want to see the dingo reinstated as “the boss of Country”. They call on governments at all levels to involve First Nations peoples in decisions relating to dingo management, to implement and support educational programs across a variety of platforms and organisations, and to see dingoes protected under legislation.

The recent Victorian decision to maintain lethal control of dingo populations against the wishes of First Nations peoples is extremely disappointing.

Non-lethal ways to protect livestock

While lethal methods have historically been used to protect livestock from dingoes, there is growing awareness of their limitations.

Firstly, these methods have not been consistently effective in eliminating livestock losses. In some cases they have exacerbated the problem, possibly due to killing and loss of older individuals, which can change the social cohesion of dingo populations, breeding, their movements and how territorial they are. It may also alter how successful they are at hunting kangaroos, causing more attacks on livestock.

Secondly, they have been associated with adverse consequences for biodiversity. In some cases, having dingoes around can be beneficial for graziers by reducing the total grazing pressure of kangaroos, feral goats, and other herbivores, and in some cases the impacts of feral pigs too. Increasing numbers of landholders are recognising this.

Lastly, there is growing consensus these lethal approaches are not aligned with the values of the general public, particularly First Nations peoples.

Non-lethal approaches to managing dingoes are gaining prominence as they are more environmentally sustainable and compassionate. These approaches prioritise coexistence by reducing conflict between dingoes and human interests while allowing dingoes to persist in landscapes.

One of the most promising non-lethal methods involves guardian animals, such as livestock-guarding dogs, llamas, and donkeys. These guardian animals establish protective bonds with livestock and effectively deter dingoes from approaching, reducing livestock losses for graziers.

Additionally, there is growing interest in developing innovative dingo deterrents, such as electric fencing and devices that emit loud noises, smells or visual stimuli, to discourage interaction between livestock and dingoes.

Initiatives promoting best practices for animal husbandry, including secure fencing, corralling, shepherding, and reducing access to resources (such as water and carcasses), play a crucial role in diminishing the attractiveness of livestock as prey to dingoes.

Working and walking together

By promoting coexistence and exploring and investing in innovative non-lethal solutions, we can strike a balance between safeguarding human interests, preserving the vital ecological role that dingoes perform, and respecting First Nations’ culture. In doing so, it is our hope that communities will be more united than divided.

We would like to acknowledge retired graziers Angus and Karen Emmott and family from far North Queensland. Their personal story about dingoes at Noonbah Station in Queensland’s Channel Country helped inform our article, and we consider Angus a co-author.