I am a biologist, not a conservationist. I am an environmental scientist, not an environmentalist. I am not what I am not only by virtue of my lack of free time. I have too little time to make a worthwhile contribution to the global good. That may sound selfish and to some extent it is. If everyone had that attitude the world would be a less than ordinary place to live. I do the best I can by promoting awareness and preservation of our venomous snake fauna; they are continually getting a bad wrap and need as many advocates as possible to push back the tide of disdain under which they are continuously suffocating. I also try to do the best job I can do as an environmental manager at Animal Plant Mineral to better manage the environmental impacts of mining.
As a biologist, more specifically a zoologist, I am very much aware of the damage feral fauna do to our native species. An adult Cane Toad will kill every single native animal within a ten mile radius before breakfast (metaphorically speaking). Feral cats have dispersed across every square inch of Australia, including offshore islands, and continue to plough through our small native birds, mammals and reptiles like the bulls of Pamplona.
And then there is the fox. In the image below Mr Fox has caught himself a lovely (what looks like) Eastern Barred Bandicoot, which typifies the small native mammal prey that suffer relentless predation from this wretched introduced vermin.
So, as a biologist, what do I do when I come across one of these vial creatures? A few years ago I was conducting a survey on the banks of the Collie River. I trapped a sub-adult fox in a cage trap in the riverside vegetation. This one was very easily dealt with!
Closer to home I have one (sorry-had one) on my property. Here she is, as bold as brass, killing native fauna in the broad light of day (top left corner of the screen). She has been around for as long as I have owned the property and long before that, according to the previous owner. We have seen her on a number of occassions when we have camped on the block and we have seen evidence of her snacking on the locals (e.g. feathers, tortoise carapaces, fish heads). But like any sly little feral predators she is extremely evasive. So you can only image my shock when, during an early morning walk, I spied her motionless in the grass. She was covered in blood and barely able to stand, let alone run away. What happened next should come as no great surprise.
I bundled her up, took her home and cleaned up her wounds whilst waiting, impatiently, for the vet to open. She had lost a lot of blood from puncture wounds to her rump and around her throat. It was pretty clear that she had been mauled by a larger domestic dog. She was in a bad way. At 8 am I took her to the vet. The staff showed as much empathy for this little girl as they do for my cheeky little ShitChew, Angus. At 10 am I received a text saying that she had not made it, due to the severity of the puncture wounds around her chest and throat.
Yesterday was a good day for the native fauna on my property, but it was a sad day for me. I know she was not supposed to be there. But, in reality, she probably ate 100 feral mice to every one native bird, fish or turtle she dispatched. She added another dimension to my little semi-rural paradise that sits adjacent the urban sprawl. She was the top of the food chain; an elegant and athletic hunter.
As for the sub-adult from the Collie River survey? I believe he is still having a wonderful life at Caversham Wildlife Park.
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