A drive out of the city is a treat, vestigial associations with
the seasons, a rustic past, an association with the web of life in which we are
embedded. In a season, the web may cover fields of yellow canola flowers, or
pasture inhabited by glazed-eyed or occasionally frisky ungulates, with rural
domiciles or machinery sheds peppered across our view. Up close, especially in
the Spring, our eyes usually avoid the puddles of rotting flesh from species
that once ruled this space, their contortions and frozen pain much more vivid
than any images which TV newsreaders warn us about in
advance.
Not all travellers avert their eyes from road kill. Professor Tim
Flannery once famously examined a dead kangaroo, noting the highly evolved and
efficient musculature towards which humanity can only aspire over evolutionary
time. Others of Flannery’s ilk might examine, with trained dispassion, joints
for parasites, teeth for age correlates, or some other academic pursuit.
Other travellers stop to check clearly recent corpses for signs
of life, or trapped young, which when detected usually eventuate in the
subject’s demise either then or in a crowded animal shelter. These travellers
do have passion, they must in order to carry on in the face of apathy or
ridicule in the rural communities where they live. I know of an admirable
couple who are wildlife carers in the southern ranges and attempt to educate
locals who usually react incredulously. Counter-culture includes leaving the
pub on a Saturday night to drive out with the spotty and shotgun and kill
anything native that moves, sometimes with the blessing of landholders. One
catchcry is “rooting, shooting and
electrocuting”.
A wildlife carer in the same region did an opinion piece
reporting on studies that native fauna usually have a miniscule impact on
grazing land compared to cloven hooved ungulates. This piece received an
overwhelmingly positive response from a community notorious for Saturday night
shooters. Does this hint that a longitudinal study might show that there is a
shift towards living more harmoniously with the bush? Perhaps so, certainly the
lefty representation on some rural councils and shires would indicate as much,
but often in these councils there is a stark dichotomy between progressives and
populous reactionaries who consider conservation initiatives as attacks on the
rights of the individual.
But the tragedy of what happens every night on our roads will not
be altered one iota by this kind of demographic shift. The ‘good old boy’ who
likes to eat up the bush road, the tradie who operates on small margins and
can’t afford to slow up, or the city-dweller who is consumed by ill-considered
machismo: if people observed caution and appropriate speed, injury could
sometimes be avoided. Drivers could react more quickly, wildlife could escape
and, in the event of an impact, a braked vehicle does less damage to itself and
the wildlife. Most road kill is caused by big trucks and their operators will
claim an overwhelming business imperative. Where is this push taking us – should
industrial lobby groups and unions alike mount campaigns against wildlife
impeding progress? Or some big picture, is this a consequence of the death of
rail? Is the issue of wildlife preservation this tangled and gargantuan?
No, not really. These might be the direct reasons why unnecessary
road kill is so pervasive, but the ultimate reason is in our heads. We don’t
relate to the real web of life in which we live, we kill it through direct
action or neglect. This is equally evident in North America where the imbalance
between ethics and technology is similar. Is it a coincidence that some of these
areas are in economic decline? Is road kill a litmus test of how far we have
come as a society.
the seasons, a rustic past, an association with the web of life in which we are
embedded. In a season, the web may cover fields of yellow canola flowers, or
pasture inhabited by glazed-eyed or occasionally frisky ungulates, with rural
domiciles or machinery sheds peppered across our view. Up close, especially in
the Spring, our eyes usually avoid the puddles of rotting flesh from species
that once ruled this space, their contortions and frozen pain much more vivid
than any images which TV newsreaders warn us about in
advance.
Not all travellers avert their eyes from road kill. Professor Tim
Flannery once famously examined a dead kangaroo, noting the highly evolved and
efficient musculature towards which humanity can only aspire over evolutionary
time. Others of Flannery’s ilk might examine, with trained dispassion, joints
for parasites, teeth for age correlates, or some other academic pursuit.
Other travellers stop to check clearly recent corpses for signs
of life, or trapped young, which when detected usually eventuate in the
subject’s demise either then or in a crowded animal shelter. These travellers
do have passion, they must in order to carry on in the face of apathy or
ridicule in the rural communities where they live. I know of an admirable
couple who are wildlife carers in the southern ranges and attempt to educate
locals who usually react incredulously. Counter-culture includes leaving the
pub on a Saturday night to drive out with the spotty and shotgun and kill
anything native that moves, sometimes with the blessing of landholders. One
catchcry is “rooting, shooting and
electrocuting”.
A wildlife carer in the same region did an opinion piece
reporting on studies that native fauna usually have a miniscule impact on
grazing land compared to cloven hooved ungulates. This piece received an
overwhelmingly positive response from a community notorious for Saturday night
shooters. Does this hint that a longitudinal study might show that there is a
shift towards living more harmoniously with the bush? Perhaps so, certainly the
lefty representation on some rural councils and shires would indicate as much,
but often in these councils there is a stark dichotomy between progressives and
populous reactionaries who consider conservation initiatives as attacks on the
rights of the individual.
But the tragedy of what happens every night on our roads will not
be altered one iota by this kind of demographic shift. The ‘good old boy’ who
likes to eat up the bush road, the tradie who operates on small margins and
can’t afford to slow up, or the city-dweller who is consumed by ill-considered
machismo: if people observed caution and appropriate speed, injury could
sometimes be avoided. Drivers could react more quickly, wildlife could escape
and, in the event of an impact, a braked vehicle does less damage to itself and
the wildlife. Most road kill is caused by big trucks and their operators will
claim an overwhelming business imperative. Where is this push taking us – should
industrial lobby groups and unions alike mount campaigns against wildlife
impeding progress? Or some big picture, is this a consequence of the death of
rail? Is the issue of wildlife preservation this tangled and gargantuan?
No, not really. These might be the direct reasons why unnecessary
road kill is so pervasive, but the ultimate reason is in our heads. We don’t
relate to the real web of life in which we live, we kill it through direct
action or neglect. This is equally evident in North America where the imbalance
between ethics and technology is similar. Is it a coincidence that some of these
areas are in economic decline? Is road kill a litmus test of how far we have
come as a society.
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