Darcy Watchorn, Deakin University and Marissa Parrott, The University of MelbourneIt’s just past midnight in the cool, ancient forests of Tasmania. We’ve spent a long day and night surveying endangered Tasmanian devils. All around, small animals scurry through bushes. A devil calls in the darkness. Microbats swoop and swirl as a spotted-tailed quoll slips through the shadows. Working here is spine-tingling and electric.
Weeks later, we’re in a moonlit forest in Victoria. It was logged a few years earlier and burnt by bushfire a few decades before that. The old trees are gone. So too are the quolls, bats and moths that once dwelled in their hollows. Invasive blackberry chokes what remains. The silence is deafening, and devastating.
In our work as field biologists, we often desperately wish we saw a place before it was cleared, logged, burnt or overtaken by invasive species. Other times, we hold back tears as we read about the latest environmental catastrophe, overwhelmed by anger and frustration. Perhaps you know this feeling of grief?
The new year is a chance to reflect on the past and consider future possibilities. Perhaps we’ll sign up to the gym, spend more time with family, or – perish the thought – finally get to the dentist.
But let us also set a New Year’s resolution for nature. Let’s make a personal pledge to care...
