Academic literature on the topic 'Fetal death Victoria'

Prenatal prognosis is an important part of obstetric care, which aims to reduce fetal and neonatal losses. A differentiated approach to the management of different risk groups allows you to optimize existing approaches.The objective: to identify antenatal factors that correlate with perinatal losses, by conducting a retrospective cohort study of women at high perinatal risk, to build a multifactorial prognostic model of adverse pregnancy outcomes.Materials and methods. A retrospective cohort study was conducted from 2014 to 2016 on the basis of the medical center LLC «Uniclinic», Medical Genetics Center «Genome», Clinic of Reproductive Genetics «Victoria», Kyiv City Maternity Hospital №2. 2154 medical cards of pregnant women from the group of high perinatal risk were selected and analyzed. Of these, 782 pregnant women were included in the final protocol after verification of compliance with the criteria.Results. Cesarean delivery occurred in 115 cases (14.7%). In 50 cases (6.4%) the caesarean section was performed in a planned manner, in 65 (8.3%) – in an emergency. In 39 (5%) cases, the indication for surgical delivery was acute fetal distress. Antenatal fetal death occurred in 11 (1.4%) cases: one case in terms of <34 weeks and <37 weeks of gestation, the remaining 9 cases – in terms of> 37 weeks. Intranatal death of two fetuses (0.3%) was due to acute asphyxia on the background of placental insufficiency. In the early neonatal period, 14 (1.8%) newborns died. Hospitalization of the newborn to the intensive care unit for the first 7 days was registered in 64 (8.2%) cases.The need for mechanical ventilation was stated in 3.96% (31/782) of newborns. The method of construction and analysis of multifactor models of logistic regression was used in the analysis of the relationship between the risk of perinatal losses (antenatal death, intranatal death, early neonatal death) and factor characteristics.Conclusion. Signs associated with the risk of perinatal loss: the presence of chronic hypertension, preeclampsia in previous pregnancies, type of fertilization (natural or artificial), the concentration of PAPP-A (MoM), the concentration of free β-HCG (MoM) in the second trimester, average PI in the uterine arteries in 28–30 weeks of pregnancy, PI in the middle cerebral arteries in 28–30 weeks of pregnancy, episodes of low fetal heart rate variability in the third trimester of pregnancy, episodes of high fetal heart rate variability in the third trimester of pregnancy. The model, built on selected features, allows with a sensitivity of 73.1% (95% CI: 52.2% – 88.4%) and a specificity of 72.7% (95% CI: 69.3% – 75.9%) to predict risk perinatal loss.

Background: In order to achieve the target of having a healthy mother and healthy baby there is a need to identify pregnant woman with high risk factors.Ante natal foetal monitoring is aimed at identifying foetus that are at high risk of suffering from intrauterine hypoxia. Aims and Objectives: To evaluate the role of modified biophysical profile in predicting perinatal outcome in high risk pregnant women Material and methods: This is a hospital based observational study in the department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology , Victoria Government Hospital , Visakhapatnam, from January 2022 to May 2022.A total of 96 high risk pregnant women were included in this study. Inclusion criteria was Singleton pregnancy ,risk factors like[pre eclampsia,gestational hypertension,diabetes mellitus,anemia,past dates,post cesarian section.breech,bad obstetric history and pre term,Exclusion criteria was multifetal gestation,intrauterine death,fetal anomalies. Detailed history was taken and relavent investigations were sent. Results: 16.9% of cases had meconium stained liquor (normal CTG and AFI), 36% with meconium stained liquor had normal AFI but abnormal CTG, 40% with meconium stained liquor had abnormal AFI but normal CTG, 50% with meconium stained liquor had abnormal AFI and abnormal CTG 0% of babies had perinatal death when AFI and CTG was normal, 100% of babies had perinatal death when AFI and CTG was abnormal Conclusion: Modified bio physical profile is a easy ,time saving and cost effective procedure and can used as a test of antepartum fetal surveillance in order to predict perinatal outcome in high risk pregnancy.

BACKGROUND The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) and WHO (World Health Organization) define a pregnancy continuing two weeks beyond expected date of delivery as post term pregnancy. Any pregnancy which has passed beyond the expected delivery date is defined as prolonged or post-dated pregnancy. Application of Doppler ultrasound allows for examination of blood flow direction, velocity and volume of various vessels. Doppler velocimetry of umbilical artery in post-dated pregnancy has been suggested as a means of assessing fetal wellbeing. In prolonged pregnancy, the first step of management is an accurate diagnosis and antenatal care includes accurate dating of pregnancy, fetal surveillance and the option of induction of labour or expectant management or Caesarean section. We wanted to analyse the blood flow in umbilical artery using Doppler ultrasound in post-dated pregnancy and analyse the perinatal outcome in post-dated pregnancies with respect to normal and abnormal doppler wave forms. METHODS This is a prospective study conducted at Department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology, Government Victoria Hospital (GVH), Visakhapatnam, from April 2016 to April 2017. 110 pregnant women who were beyond the expected date of delivery (EDD) according to menstrual history and early weeks scan were selected from the antenatal ward and labour room. RESULTS In the present study, 52.73 % women with prolonged pregnancy were primi gravida and 67.27 % women were between the gestational ages of 40 - 41 weeks. Doppler studies were abnormal in 13.64 % (15 women). 78.1 % women with prolonged pregnancy had normal vaginal delivery, Caesarean section was done in 17.3 % and 4.6 % had instrumental delivery. 99.09 % of babies were live born and one was stillborn. Two babies died in early neonatal period due to meconium aspiration. CONCLUSIONS Doppler study of umbilical arteries is a useful noninvasive procedure to reduce the perinatal morbidity and mortality in prolonged pregnancy. KEY WORDS Antepartum Fetal Surveillance, Birth Asphyxia, Doppler Study, Intrauterine Death, Perinatal Outcome, Prolonged Pregnancy, Pulsatility Index, Resistance Index

Objectives: To compare efficacy of extra-amniotic Foley’s catheter balloon aloneversus combined use of Foley’s catheter balloon and extra-amniotic instillation of prostaglandinF2-alpha in therapeutic termination of second trimester pregnancy. Study Design: Randomizedcontrolled trial. Setting: Department of Obstetrics & Gynecology, Bahawal Victoria Hospital,Bahawalpur. Period: Two years. July 2014 to June 2016. Sample Technique: Non-probability,consecutive sampling technique. Patients & Methods: A total of 256 patients, 16 to 38 years ofage with fetal death or missed abortion on ultrasonography in 2nd trimester (14-24 gestationalweeks) of pregnancy were included in the study. Patients with previous uterine surgery, multiplepregnancies and parity>3 were excluded. Then selected patients were placed randomly intotwo groups i.e. Group A (extra-amniotic Foley’s catheter balloon alone) & Group B (Foley’scatheter balloon along with extra-amniotic instillation of prostaglandin F2-alpha), by using lotterymethod. Outcome variables like efficacy i.e. expulsion of fetus within 24 hours of induction, werenoted. Results: The mean age of women in group A was 24.51 ± 4.77 and in group B was 24.29± 4.48 years. The mean gestational age in group A was 21.65 ± 2.01 weeks and in group Bwas 21.28 ± 1.93 weeks. Efficacy was 103 (80.47%) in group A (extra-amniotic Foley’s catheterballoon alone) and 119 (92.97%) in group B (combined use of Foley’s catheter balloon andextra-amniotic instillation of prostaglandin F2-alpha) with p-value of 0.003. Conclusion: Thisstudy concluded that combined use of Foley’s catheter balloon and extra-amniotic instillationof prostaglandin F2-alpha is better and more efficacious than extra-amniotic Foley’s catheterballoon alone in therapeutic termination of second trimester pregnancy.

Background: Thyroid gland is the power house of human body. It provides energy for the various biochemical processes of the body and helps to maintain basal metabolic rate. Objective: To estimate the prevalence of thyroid dysfunction in pregnancy and to evaluate the obstetric and perinatal outcomes in such pregnancies Setting: Department of Obstetrics & Gynecology, Bahawal Victoria Hospital Bahawalpur from 15 January 2021 to 15 JUNE 2021 Study Design: A Descriptive Case Series. Materials and Methods: A total of 292 cases of antenatal patients, irrespective of their period of gestation were enrolled in this study by random sampling method. Patients with multiple pregnancies and having bad obstetrical history were excluded. Detailed history and obstetrical examination, routine blood test and serum TSH were performed. These patients were followed during labour, delivery and puerperium and maternal outcome and neonatal outcomes were noted. Results: In this study we enrolled two hundreds and ninety two (292) antenatal women. Out of total 292 patients only 61 (20.9%) were nulliparous and rest of the patients were multiparous. The prevalence of thyroid dysfunction in pregnancy was 8.2%. Out of this, 2.74 % patients had sub clinical hypothyroidism (SCH). Overt hypothyroidism (OH) was seen in 2.40%, sub clinical Hyperthyroidism in 1.71% & the incidence of overt hyperthyroidism was 1.37%. Maternal complication included: abortion (5.5%), pre-eclampsia (3.4%), abruption-placentae (4.1%), preterm labour (4.5%), PPH (4.2%) and puerperal sepsis (2.8%). Neonatal outcomes included: preterm births (5.4%),LBW (5.1 %), IUGR (6.2%), still birth (4.4%), neonatal death (5.1%), low APGAR score ( <7 at 5 minutes ) (6.9%). Conclusion: Thyroid dysfunction in pregnancy, though has a low incidence, but is associated with adverse maternal and fetal complications. Thus thyroid screening should be done in antenatal period to improve fetomaternal outcome. Keywords: Thyroid dysfunction, Hypothyroidism, Hyperthyroidism, Fetomaternal outcome, Overt Hypothyroidism, Subclinical Hypothyroidism.

The red fox is a highly adaptable mammal that has established itself world-wide in many different environments. Contributing to its success is a social structure based on chemical signalling between individuals. Urine scent marking behaviour has long been known in foxes, but there has not been a recent study of the chemical composition of fox urine. We have used solid-phase microextraction and gas chromatography-mass spectrometry to analyze the urinary volatiles in 15 free-ranging wild foxes (2 female) living in farmlands and bush in Victoria, Australia. Foxes here are routinely culled as feral pests, and the urine was collected by bladder puncture soon after death. Compounds were identified from their mass spectra and Kovats retention indices. There were 53 possible endogenous scent compounds, 10 plant-derived compounds and 5 anthropogenic xenobiotics. Among the plant chemicals were several aromatic apocarotenoids previously found in greater abundance in the fox tail gland. They reflect the dietary consumption of carotenoids, essential for optimal health. One third of all the endogenous volatiles were sulfur compounds, a highly odiferous group which included thiols, methylsulfides and polysulfides. Five of the sulfur compounds (3-isopentenyl thiol, 1- and 2-phenylethyl methyl sulfide, octanethiol and benzyl methyl sulfide) have only been found in foxes, and four others (isopentyl methyl sulfide, 3-isopentenyl methyl sulfide, and 1- and 2-phenylethane thiol) only in some canid, mink and skunk species. This indicates that they are not normal mammalian metabolites and have evolved to serve a specific role. This role is for defence in musteloids and most likely for chemical communication in canids. The total production of sulfur compounds varied greatly between foxes (median 1.2, range 0.4–32.3 μg ‘acetophenone equivalents’/mg creatinine) as did the relative abundance of different chemical types. The urinary scent chemistry may represent a highly evolved system of semiochemicals for communication between foxes.

The single largest influence on the survival of lambs in the first few days of life is their birthweight. Fetal growth and birthweight are regulated by genotype of the fetus, maternal genotype, maternal nutrition and the external environment. In this paper we report the extent to which the changes in maternal liveweight during pregnancy and lactation (liveweight profile) of Merino ewes can be used to predict the birthweight and survival of their progeny to weaning. At two sites [Victoria (Vic.) ~700 ewes and Western Australia (WA) ~300 ewes] in each of 2 years, a similar experiment used adult Merino ewes to explore effects of nutrition from joining to Day 100 of pregnancy and from Day 100 of pregnancy to weaning. The average difference between extreme treatments at Day 100 of pregnancy were 7 kg in ewe liveweight and 0.7 of a condition score (CS) and at lambing 11.9 kg and 1.3 of a CS. This resulted in average birthweights of progeny from different treatments ranging from 4.0 to 5.4 kg and survival to weaning ranging from 68 to 92%. Across the four experiments between 68 and 85% of all lamb deaths to weaning occurred within 48 h of birth. Lambs born to ewes in CS 2 at Day 100 of pregnancy were lighter (P < 0.05) in both years at the Vic. site than those from ewes in CS 3 at Day 100 of pregnancy. Lambs born to the ewes grazing a feed on offer of 800 kg DM/ha during late pregnancy were also lighter than those from other levels of feed on offer between 1100 and 3000 kg DM/ha at the Vic. site in both years and at the WA site in 1 year (P < 0.001). Lambs from the 800 kg DM/ha treatment during late pregnancy at the Vic. site had a lower survival than other treatments, especially in the second year. There were no significant effects of treatments on lamb survival at the WA site; however, the results were in the same direction. The birthweight of individual lambs was significantly related to the liveweight profile of their mothers. Their liveweight at joining, change in liveweight to Day 100 of pregnancy and change in liveweight from Day 100 to lambing all contributed (P < 0.05) to the prediction of the birthweight of their lambs. The responses were consistent across experimental sites and years, lamb birth rank and sex, and confirmed that the effects of poor nutrition up until Day 100 of pregnancy could be completely overcome by improving nutrition during late pregnancy. At the Vic. site, survival to 48 h was most influenced by the birthweight of the lamb and survival was significantly higher in single- than twin-born lambs and female than male lambs after adjusting for differences in birthweight. A higher chill index during the 48 h after birth reduced survival of both single and twin lambs to a similar extent, but reduced survival of male lambs more than female lambs. There were no effects of birthweight or chill index on lamb survival at the WA site where most lambs weighed more than 4 kg at birth and climatic conditions during lambing were less extreme. Overall, these results supported our hypothesis that improving the nutrition of Merino ewes during pregnancy increases birthweight and this leads to improved survival of their progeny.

O parto pré-termo, é aquele que ocorre antes da 37ª semana de gestação, e é o problema perinatal atual mais importante, pois está associado à morbidade e mortalidade significativas no início da vida. O objetivo do estudo foi caracterizar o nascimento de pré-termos entre mulheres residentes no Estado do Piauí, no período entre 2011 a 2015. Trata-se de estudo descritivo utilizando os dados do Sistema de Informações sobre Nascidos Vivos (SINASC) coletados do banco de dados do Departamento de Informática do Sistema Único de Saúde (DATASUS). A população foi constituída por 23.754 nascidos vivos, sendo 26.182 pré-termos. Houve aumento percentual do número de recém-nascidos pré-termos entre os anos estudados. Observou-se que idade materna variou entre 20 e 34 anos, a maioria das mães eram casadas, com escolaridade de 8 a 11 anos, de gravidez única, com 7 consultas pré-natal ou mais, recém-nascido de raça/cor parda relacionaram-se com o nascimento pré-termo. Partos vaginais, recém-nascidos do sexo masculino, também se relacionaram à prematuridade, assim como, a influência da situação socioeconômica. Os recém-nascidos pré-termos caracterizaram-se principalmente por serem de 32 a 36 semanas, sexo masculino, pardos e peso normal ao nascer. Assim, os dados obtidos permitem concluir que o conhecimento e a avaliação do perfil das mães e o número e a situação do nascimento dessas crianças é importante no planejamento de estratégias de saúde eficazes na atenção materno-infantil, objetivando aprimorar políticas públicas para a sobrevivência do recém-nascido e a consequente redução da ocorrência da prematuridade.Descritores: Recém-Nascido Prematuro; Declaração de Nascimento; Sistemas de Saúde.ReferênciasMontenegro RF. Obstetrícia fundamental. Rio de Janeiro: Guanabara Koogan; 2008.Saigal S, Doyle LW. An overview of mortality and sequelae of preterm birth from infancy to adulthood. 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IntroductionI work at a regional campus of La Trobe University, Australia. More precisely, I work at the Bendigo campus of La Trobe University. At Bendigo, we are often annoyed when referred to and addressed as ‘regional’ students and staff. Really, we should not be. After all, Bendigo campus is an outpost of La Trobe’s metropolitan base. It is funded, run, and directed from Bundoora (Melbourne). The word ‘regional’ simply describes the situation. A region is an “administrative division of a city or a district [… or …] a country” (Brown 2528). And the Latin etymology of region (regio, regere) includes “direction, line”, and “rule” (Kidd 208, 589). Just as the Bendigo campus of La Trobe is a satellite of the metropolitan campus, the town of Bendigo is an outpost of Melbourne. So, when we are addressed and interpellated (Althusser 48) as regional, it is a reminder of the ongoing fact that Australia is (still) a colony, an outpost of empire, a country organised on the colonial model. From central administrative hubs, spokes of communication, and transportation spread to the outposts. When Bendigo students and staff are addressed as regional, in a way we are also being addressed as colonial.In this article, the terms ‘region’ and ‘regional’ are deployed as inextricably associated with the Australian version of colonialism. In Australia, in the central metropolitan hubs, where the colonial project is at its most comprehensive, it is hard to see what remains, to see what has escaped that project. The aim of this article is to explore how different aspects of the country escape the totalising project of Australian colonialism. This exploration is undertaken primarily through a discussion of the ways in which some places on this continent remain not regional (and thus, not colonial) how they keep the metropolis at bay, and how they, thus, keep Europe at bay. This discussion includes a general overview of the Australian colonial project, particularly as it pertains to First Nations Peoples, their knowledge and philosophies, and the continent’s unique ecologies. Then the article becomes more speculative, imagining different ways of seeing and experiencing time and place in this country, ways of seeing the remains and refuges of pre-1788, not-regional, and not-colonial Australia. In these remains and refuges, there persist the flourishing and radical difference of this continent’s ecologies and, not surprisingly, the radical suitedness of tens of thousands of years of First Nations Peoples’ culture and thinking to that ecology, as Country. In what remains not regional, I argue, are answers to the question: How will we live here in the Anthropocene?A Totalising ProjectSince 1788, in the face of the ongoing presence and resistance of First Nations cultures, and the continent’s radically unique ecologies, the Australian colonial project has been to convert the continent into a region of Europe. As such, the imposed political, administrative, scientific, and economic institutions are largely European. This is also so, to a lesser extent, of social and cultural institutions. While the continent is not Europe geologically, the notion of the Anthropocene suggests that this is changing (Crutzen and Stoermer). This article does not resummarise the vast body of scholarship on the effects of colonisation, from genocide to missionary charity, to the creation of bureaucratic and comprador classes, and so on. Suffice to say that the different valences of colonisation—from outright malevolence to misguided benevolence–produce similar and common effects. As such, what we experience in metropolitan and regional Australia, is chillingly similar to what people experience in London. Chilling, because this experience demonstrates how the effects of the project tend towards the total.To clarify, when I use the name ‘Australia’ I understand it as the continent’s European name. When I use the term ‘Europe’ or ‘European’, I refer to both the European continent and to the reach and scope of the various colonial and imperial projects of European nations. I take this approach because I think it is necessary to recognise their global effects and loads. In Australia, this load has been evident and present for more than two centuries. On one hand, it is evident in the social, cultural, and political institutions that come with colonisation. On another, it is evident in the environmental impacts of colonisation: impacts that are severely compounded in Australia. In relation to this, there is vital, ongoing scholarship that explores the fact that, ecologically, Australia is a radically different place, and which discusses the ways in which European scientific, aesthetic, and agricultural assumptions, and the associated naturalised and generic understandings of ‘nature’, have grounded activities that have radically transformed the continent’s biosphere. To name but a few, Tim Flannery (Eaters, “Ecosystems”) and Stephen Pyne, respectively, examine the radical difference of this continent’s ecology, geology, climate, and fire regimes. Sylvia Hallam, Bill Gammage, and Bruce Pascoe (“Bolt”, Emu) explore the relationships of First Nations Peoples with that ecology, climate, and fire before 1788, and the European blindness to the complexity of these relationships. For instance, William Lines quotes the strikingly contradictory observations of the colonial surveyor, Thomas Mitchell, where the land is simultaneously “populous” and “without inhabitants” and “ready for the immediate reception of civilised man” and European pastoralism (Mitchell qtd. in Lines 71). Flannery (Eaters) and Tim Low (Feral, New) discuss the impacts of introduced agricultural practices, exotic animals, and plants. Tom Griffiths tells the story of ‘Improving’ and ‘Acclimatisation Societies’, whose explicit aims were to convert Australian lands into European lands (32–48). The notion of ‘keeping Europe at bay’ is a response to the colonial assumptions, practices, and impositions highlighted by these writers.The project of converting this continent and hundreds of First Nations Countries into a region of Europe, ‘Australia’, is, in ambition, a totalising one. From the strange flag-plantings, invocations and incantations claiming ownership and dominion, to legalistic conceptions such as terra nullius, the aim has been to speak, to declare, to interpellate the country as European. What is not European, must be made European. What cannot be made European is either (un)seen in a way which diminishes or denies its existence, or must be made not to exist. These are difficult things to do: to not see, to unsee, or to eradicate.One of the first acts of administrative division (direction and rule) in the Port Phillip colony (now known as Victoria) was that of designating four regional Aboriginal Protectorates. Edward Stone Parker was appointed Assistant Protector of Aborigines for the Loddon District, a district which persists today for many state and local government instrumentalities as the Loddon-Mallee region. In the 1840s, Parker experienced the difficulty described above, in attempting to ‘make European’ the Dja Dja Wurrung people. As part of Parker’s goal of Christianising Dja Dja Wurrung people, he sought to learn their language. Bain Attwood records his frustration:[Parker] remarked in July 1842. ‘For physical objects and their attributes, the language readily supplies equivalent terms, but for the metaphysical, so far I have been able to discover scarcely any’. A few years later Parker simply despaired that this work of translation could be undertaken. ‘What can be done’, he complained, ‘with a people whose language knows no such terms as holiness, justice, righteousness, sin, guilt, repentance, redemption, pardon, peace, and c., and to whose minds the ideas conveyed by those words are utterly foreign and inexplicable?’ (Attwood 125)The assumption here is that values and concepts that are ‘untranslatable’ into European understandings mark an absence of such value and concept. Such assumptions are evident in attempts to convince, cajole, or coerce First Nations Peoples into abandoning traditional cultural and custodial relationships with Country in favour of individual private property ownership. The desire to maintain relationships with Country are described by conservative political figures such as Tony Abbott as “lifestyle choices” (Medhora), effectively declaring them non-existent. In addition, processes designed to recognise First Nations relationships to Country are procedurally frustrated. Examples of this are the bizarre decisions made in 2018 and 2019 by Nigel Scullion, the then Indigenous Affairs Minister, to fund objections to land claims from funds designated to alleviate Indigenous disadvantage and to refuse to grant land rights claims even when procedural obstacles have been cleared (Allam). In Australia, given that First Nations social, cultural, and political life is seamlessly interwoven with the environment, ecology, the land–Country, and that the colonial project has always been, and still is, a totalising one, it is a project which aims to sever the connections to place of First Nations Peoples. Concomitantly, when the connections cannot be severed, the people must be either converted, dismissed, or erased.This project, no matter how brutal and relentless, however, has not achieved totality.What Remains Not Regional? If colonisation is a totalising project, and regional Australia stands as evidence of this project’s ongoing push, then what remains not regional, or untouched by the colonial? What escapes the administrative, the institutional, the ecological, the incantatory, and the interpellative reach of the regional? I think that despite this reach, there are such remains. The frustration, the anger, and antipathy of Parker, Abbott, and Scullion bear this out. Their project is unfinished and the resistance to it infuriates. I think that, in Australia, the different ways in which pre-1788 modes of life persist are modes of life which can be said to be ‘keeping Europe at bay’.In Reports from a Wild Country: Ethics for Decolonisation, Deborah Bird Rose compares Western/European conceptualisations of time, with those of the people living in the communities around the Victoria River in the Northern Territory. Rose describes Western constructions of time as characterised by disjunction (for example, the ‘birth’ of philosophy, the beginnings of Christianity) and by irreversible sequence (for example, concepts of telos, apocalypse, and progress). These constructions have become so naturalised as to carry a “seemingly commonsensical orientation toward the future” (15). Orientation, in an Australian society “built on destruction, enables regimes of violence to continue their work while claiming the moral ground of making a better future” (15). Such an orientation “enables us to turn our backs on the current social facts of pain, damage, destruction and despair which exist in the present, but which we will only acknowledge as our past” (17).In contrast to this ‘future vision’, Rose describes what she calls the ‘canonical’ time-space conceptualisation of the Victoria River people (55). Here, rather than a temporal extension into an empty future, orientation is towards living, peopled, and grounded origins, with the emphasis on the plural, rather than a single point of origin or disjunction:We here now, meaning we here in a shared present, are distinct from the people of the early days by the fact that they preceded us and made our lives possible. We are the ‘behind mob’—those who come after. The future is the domain of those who come after us. They are referred to as […] those ‘behind us’. (55)By way of illustration, when we walk into a sheep paddock, even if we are going somewhere (even the future), we are also irrevocably walking behind ancestors, predecessor ecologies, previous effects. The paddock, is how it is, after about 65,000 years of occupation, custodianship, and management, after European surveyors, squatters, frontier conflict and violence, the radical transformation of the country, the destruction of the systems that came before. Everything there, as Freya Mathews would put it, is of “the given” (“Becoming” 254, “Old” 127). We are coming up behind. That paddock is the past and present, and what happens next is irrevocably shaped by it. We cannot walk away from it.What remains not regional is there in front of us. Country, language, and knowledge remain in the sheep paddock, coexisting with everyone and everything else that everyone in this country follows (including the colonial and the regional). It is not gone. We have to learn how to see it.By the Fox or the Little EagleFigure 1: A Scatter of Sulphur-Crested Cockatoo Feathers at Wehla. Image Credit: Terry Eyssens.As a way of elaborating on this, I will tell you about a small, eight hectare, patch of land in Dja Dja Wurrung Country. Depending on the day, or the season, or your reason, it could take fifteen minutes to walk from one end to the other or it might take four hours, from the time you start walking, to the time when you get back to where you started. At this place, I found a scatter of White Cockatoo feathers (Sulphur-Crested Cockatoo—Cacatua galerita). There was no body, just the feathers, but it was clear that the Cockatoo had died, had been caught by something, for food. The scatter was beautiful. The feathers, their sulphur highlights, were lying on yellow-brown, creamy, dry grass. I dwelled on the scatter. I looked. I looked around. I walked around. I scanned the horizon and squinted at the sky. And I wondered, what happened.This small patch of land in Dja Dja Wurrung Country is in an area now known as Wehla. In the Dja Dja Wurrung and many other Victorian languages, ‘Wehla’ (and variants of this word) is a name for the Brushtail Possum (Trichosurus vulpecula). In the time I spend there/here, I see all kinds of animals. Of these, two are particularly involved in this story. One is the Fox (Vulpes vulpes), which I usually see just the back of, going away. They are never surprised. They know, or seem to know, where everyone is. They have a trot, a purposeful, cocky trot, whether they are going away because of me or whether they are going somewhere for their own good reasons. Another animal I see often is the Little Eagle (Hieraaetus morphnoides). It is a half to two-thirds the size of a Wedge-tailed Eagle (Aquila audax). It soars impressively. Sometimes I mistake a Little Eagle for a Wedge-tail, until I get a better look and realise that it is not quite that big. I am not sure where the Little Eagle’s nest is but it must be close by.I wondered about this scatter of White Cockatoo feathers. I wondered, was the scatter of White Cockatoo feathers by the Fox or by the Little Eagle? This could be just a cute thought experiment. But I think the question matters because it provokes thinking about what is regional and what remains not regional. The Fox is absolutely imperial. It is introduced and widespread. Low describes it as among Australia’s “greatest agent[s] of extinction” (124). It is part of the colonisation of this place, down to this small patch of land in Dja Dja Wurrung Country. Where the Fox is, colonisation, and everything that goes with it, remains, and maintains. So, that scatter of feathers could be a colonial, regional happening. Or maybe it is something that remains not regional, not colonial. Maybe the scatter is something that escapes the regional. The Little Eagles and the Cockatoos, who were here before colonisation, and their dance (a dance of death for the Cockatoo, a dance of life for the Little Eagle), is maybe something that remains not regional.But, so what if the scatter of White Cockatoo feathers, this few square metres of wind-blown matter, is not regional? Well, if it is ‘not regional’, then, if Australia is to become something other than a colony, we have to look for these things that are not regional, that are not colonial, that are not imperial. Maybe if we start with a scatter of White Cockatoo feathers that was by the Little Eagle, and then build outwards again, we might start to notice more things that are not regional, that still somehow escape. For example, the persistence of First Nations modes of land custodianship and First Nations understandings of time. Then, taking care not to fetishise First Nations philosophies and cultures, take the time and care to recognise the associations of all of those things with simply, the places themselves, like a patch of land in Dja Dja Wurrung Country, which is now known as Wehla. Instead of understanding that place as something that is just part of the former Aboriginal Protectorate of Loddon or of the Loddon Mallee region of Victoria, it is Wehla.The beginning of decolonisation is deregionalisation. Every time we recognise the not regional (which is hopefully, eventually, articulated in a more positive sense than ‘not regional’), and just say something like ‘Wehla’, we can start to keep Europe at bay. Europe’s done enough.seeing and SeeingChina Miéville’s The City and The City (2009) is set in a place, in which the citizens of two cities live. The cities, Besźel and Ul Qoma, occupy the same space, are culturally and politically different. Their relationship to each other is similar to that of border-sharing Cold War states. Citizens of the two cities are forbidden to interact with each other. This prohibition is radically policed. Even though the citizens of Besźel and Ul Qoma live in adjoining buildings, share roads, and walk the same streets, they are forbidden to see each other. The populations of each city grow up learning how to see what is permitted and to not see, or unsee, the forbidden other (14).I think that seeing a scatter of White Cockatoo feathers and wondering if it was by the Fox or by the Little Eagle is akin to the different practices of seeing and not seeing in Besźel and Ul Qoma. The scatter of feathers is regional and colonial and, equally, it is not. Two countries occupy the same space. Australia and a continent with its hundreds of Countries. What remains not regional is what is given and Seen as such. Understanding ourselves as walking behind everything that has gone before us enables this. As such, it is possible to see the scatter of White Cockatoo feathers as by the Fox, as happening in ‘regional Australia’, as thus characterised by around 200 years of carnage, where the success of one species comes at the expense of countless others. On the other hand, it is possible to See the feathers as by the Little Eagles, and as happening on a small patch of land in Dja Dja Wurrung Country, as a dance that has been happening for hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of years. It is a way of keeping Europe at bay.I think these Cockatoo feathers are a form of address. They are capable of interpellating something other than the regional, the colonial, and the imperial. A story of feathers, Foxes, and Little Eagles can remind us of our ‘behindness’, and evoke, and invoke, and exemplify ways of seeing and engaging with where we live that are tens of thousands of years old. This is both an act of the imagination and a practice of Seeing what is really there. When we learn to see the remains and refuges, the persistence of the not regional, we might also begin to learn how to live here in the Anthropocene. But, Anthropocene or no Anthropocene, we have to learn how to live here anyway.References Allam, Lorena. “Aboriginal Land Rights Claims Unresolved Despite All-Clear from Independent Review.” The Guardian 29 Mar. 2019. <https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2019/mar/29/aboriginal-land-rights-claims-unresolved-despite-all-clear-from-independent-review>.Althusser, Louis. “Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses (Notes towards an Investigation).” On Ideology. Trans. Ben Brewster. London: Verso, [1971] 2008.Attwood, Bain. The Good Country: The Djadja Wurrung, the Settlers and the Protectors. Clayton: Monash UP, 2017.Brown, Lesley. The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary: On Historical Principles: Volume 2. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993.Crutzen, Paul, J., and Eugene F. Stoermer. “The ‘Anthropocene’.” Global Change Newsletter 41 (May 2000): 17–18.Flannery, Timothy F. “The Fate of Empire in Low- and High-Energy Ecosystems.” Ecology and Empire: Environmental History of Settler Societies. Eds. Tom Griffiths and Libby Robin. Edinburgh: Keele UP, 1997. 46–59.———. The Future Eaters. Sydney: Reed New Holland, 1994.Gammage, Bill. The Biggest Estate on Earth: How Aborigines Made Australia. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2012.Griffiths, Tom. Forests of Ash. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2001.Hallam, Sylvia. Fire and Hearth: A Study of Aboriginal Usage and European Usurpation in South-Western Australia. Rev. ed. Crawley: U of Western Australia P, 2014.Kidd, D.A. Collins Gem Latin-English, English-Latin Dictionary. London: Collins, 1980.Lines, William. Taming the Great South Land: A History of the Conquest of Nature in Australia. Berkeley and Los Angeles: U of California P, 1991.Low, Tim. The New Nature: Winners and Losers in Wild Australia. Camberwell: Penguin Books, 2003.———. Feral Future: The Untold Story of Australia’s Exotic Invaders. Ringwood: Penguin Books, 1999.Mathews, Freya. “Becoming Native: An Ethos of Countermodernity II.” Worldviews: Environment, Culture, Religion 3 (1999): 243–71.———. “Letting the World Grow Old: An Ethos of Countermodernity.” Worldviews: Environment, Culture, Religion 3 (1999): 119–37.Medhora, Shalailah. “Remote Communities Are Lifestyle Choices, Says Tony Abbott.” The Guardian 10 Mar. 2015. <https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2015/mar/10/remote-communities-are-lifestyle-choices-says-tony-abbott>.Miéville, China. The City and the City. London: Pan MacMillan, 2009.Pascoe, Bruce. Dark Emu, Black Seeds: Agriculture or Accident? Broome: Magabala Books, 2014.———. “Andrew Bolt’s Disappointment.” Griffith Review 36 (Winter 2012): 226–33.Pyne, Stephen. Burning Bush: A Fire History of Australia. North Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1992.Rose, Deborah Bird. Reports from a Wild Country: Ethics for Decolonisation. Sydney: U of New South Wales P, 2004.

All history of this area and the general talk and all of that is that 1973 was a turning point and the Aquarius Festival is credited with having turned this region around in so many ways, but I think that is a myth ... and I have to honour the truth; and the truth is that old Dicke Donelly came and did a Welcome to Country the night before the festival. (Joseph in Joseph and Hanley)In 1973 the Australian Union of Students (AUS) held the Aquarius Arts and Lifestyle Festival in a small, rural New South Wales town called Nimbin. The festival was seen as the peak expression of Australian counterculture and is attributed to creating the “Rainbow Region”, an area with a concentration of alternative life stylers in Northern NSW (Derrett 28). While the Aquarius Festival is recognised as a founding historical and countercultural event, the unique and important relationships established with Indigenous people at this time are generally less well known. This article investigates claims that the 1973 Aquarius Festival was “the first event in Australian history that sought permission for the use of the land from the Traditional Owners” (Joseph and Hanley). The diverse international, national and local conditions that coalesced at the Aquarius Festival suggest a fertile environment was created for reconciliatory bonds to develop. Often dismissed as a “tree hugging, soap dodging movement,” the counterculture was radically politicised having sprung from the 1960s social revolutions when the world witnessed mass demonstrations that confronted war, racism, sexism and capitalism. Primarily a youth movement, it was characterised by flamboyant dress, music, drugs and mass gatherings with universities forming the epicentre and white, middle class youth leading the charge. As their ideals of changing the world were frustrated by lack of systematic change, many decided to disengage and a migration to rural settings occurred (Jacob; Munro-Clarke; Newton). In the search for alternatives, the counterculture assimilated many spiritual practices, such as Eastern traditions and mysticism, which were previously obscure to the Western world. This practice of spiritual syncretism can be represented as a direct resistance to the hegemony of the dominant Western culture (Stell). As the new counterculture developed, its progression from urban to rural settings was driven by philosophies imbued with a desire to reconnect with and protect the natural world while simultaneously rejecting the dominant conservative order. A recurring feature of this countercultural ‘back to the land’ migration was not only an empathetic awareness of the injustices of colonial past, but also a genuine desire to learn from the Indigenous people of the land. Indigenous people were generally perceived as genuine opposers of Westernisation, inherently spiritual, ecological, tribal and communal, thus encompassing the primary values to which the counterculture was aspiring (Smith). Cultures converged. One, a youth culture rebelling from its parent culture; the other, ancient cultures reeling from the historical conquest by the youths’ own ancestors. Such cultural intersections are rich with complex scenarios and politics. As a result, often naïve, but well-intended relations were established with Native Americans, various South American Indigenous peoples, New Zealand Maori and, as this article demonstrates, the Original People of Australia (Smith; Newton; Barr-Melej; Zolov). The 1960s protest era fostered the formation of groups aiming to address a variety of issues, and at times many supported each other. Jennifer Clarke says it was the Civil Rights movement that provided the first models of dissent by formulating a “method, ideology and language of protest” as African Americans stood up and shouted prior to other movements (2). The issue of racial empowerment was not lost on Australia’s Indigenous population. Clarke writes that during the 1960s, encouraged by events overseas and buoyed by national organisation, Aborigines “slowly embarked on a political awakening, demanded freedom from the trappings of colonialism and responded to the effects of oppression at worst and neglect at best” (4). Activism of the 1960s had the “profoundly productive effect of providing Aborigines with the confidence to assert their racial identity” (159). Many Indigenous youth were compelled by the zeitgeist to address their people’s issues, fulfilling Charlie Perkins’s intentions of inspiring in Indigenous peoples a will to resist (Perkins). Enjoying new freedoms of movement out of missions, due to the 1967 Constitutional change and the practical implementation of the assimilation policy, up to 32,000 Indigenous youth moved to Redfern, Sydney between 1967 and 1972 (Foley, “An Evening With”). Gary Foley reports that a dynamic new Black Power Movement emerged but the important difference between this new younger group and the older Indigenous leaders of the day was the diverse range of contemporary influences. Taking its mantra from the Black Panther movement in America, though having more in common with the equivalent Native American Red Power movement, the Black Power Movement acknowledged many other international struggles for independence as equally inspiring (Foley, “An Evening”). People joined together for grassroots resistance, formed anti-hierarchical collectives and established solidarities between varied groups who previously would have had little to do with each other. The 1973 Aquarius Festival was directly aligned with “back to the land” philosophies. The intention was to provide a place and a reason for gathering to “facilitate exchanges on survival techniques” and to experience “living in harmony with the natural environment.” without being destructive to the land (Dunstan, “A Survival Festival”). Early documents in the archives, however, reveal no apparent interest in Australia’s Indigenous people, referring more to “silken Arabian tents, mediaeval banners, circus, jugglers and clowns, peace pipes, maypole and magic circles” (Dunstan, “A Survival Festival”). Obliterated from the social landscape and minimally referred to in the Australian education system, Indigenous people were “off the radar” to the majority mindset, and the Australian counterculture similarly was slow to appreciate Indigenous culture. Like mainstream Australia, the local counterculture movement largely perceived the “race” issue as something occurring in other countries, igniting the phrase “in your own backyard” which became a catchcry of Indigenous activists (Foley, “Whiteness and Blackness”) With no mention of any Indigenous interest, it seems likely that the decision to engage grew from the emerging climate of Indigenous activism in Australia. Frustrated by student protestors who seemed oblivious to local racial issues, focusing instead on popular international injustices, Indigenous activists accused them of hypocrisy. Aquarius Festival directors, found themselves open to similar accusations when public announcements elicited a range of responses. Once committed to the location of Nimbin, directors Graeme Dunstan and Johnny Allen began a tour of Australian universities to promote the upcoming event. While at the annual conference of AUS in January 1973 at Monash University, Dunstan met Indigenous activist Gary Foley: Gary witnessed the presentation of Johnny Allen and myself at the Aquarius Foundation session and our jubilation that we had agreement from the village residents to not only allow, but also to collaborate in the production of the Festival. After our presentation which won unanimous support, it was Gary who confronted me with the question “have you asked permission from local Aboriginal folk?” This threw me into confusion because we had seen no Aboriginals in Nimbin. (Dunstan, e-mail) Such a challenge came at a time when the historical climate was etched with political activism, not only within the student movement, but more importantly with Indigenous activists’ recent demonstrations, such as the installation in 1972 of the Tent Embassy in Canberra. As representatives of the counterculture movement, which was characterised by its inclinations towards consciousness-raising, AUS organisers were ethically obliged to respond appropriately to the questions about Indigenous permission and involvement in the Aquarius Festival at Nimbin. In addition to this political pressure, organisers in Nimbin began hearing stories of the area being cursed or taboo for women. This most likely originated from the tradition of Nimbin Rocks, a rocky outcrop one kilometre from Nimbin, as a place where only certain men could go. Jennifer Hoff explains that many major rock formations were immensely sacred places and were treated with great caution and respect. Only a few Elders and custodians could visit these places and many such locations were also forbidden for women. Ceremonies were conducted at places like Nimbin Rocks to ensure the wellbeing of all tribespeople. Stories of the Nimbin curse began to spread and most likely captivated a counterculture interested in mysticism. As organisers had hoped that news of the festival would spread on the “lips of the counterculture,” they were alarmed to hear how “fast the bad news of this curse was travelling” (Dunstan, e-mail). A diplomatic issue escalated with further challenges from the Black Power community when organisers discovered that word had spread to Sydney’s Indigenous community in Redfern. Organisers faced a hostile reaction to their alleged cultural insensitivity and were plagued by negative publicity with accusations the AUS were “violating sacred ground” (Janice Newton 62). Faced with such bad press, Dunstan was determined to repair what was becoming a public relations disaster. It seemed once prompted to the path, a sense of moral responsibility prevailed amongst the organisers and they took the unprecedented step of reaching out to Australia’s Indigenous people. Dunstan claimed that an expedition was made to the local Woodenbong mission to consult with Elder, Uncle Lyle Roberts. To connect with local people required crossing the great social divide present in that era of Australia’s history. Amy Nethery described how from the nineteenth century to the 1960s, a “system of reserves, missions and other institutions isolated, confined and controlled Aboriginal people” (9). She explains that the people were incarcerated as a solution to perceived social problems. For Foley, “the widespread genocidal activity of early “settlement” gave way to a policy of containment” (Foley, “Australia and the Holocaust”). Conditions on missions were notoriously bad with alcoholism, extreme poverty, violence, serious health issues and depression common. Of particular concern to mission administrators was the perceived need to keep Indigenous people separate from the non-indigenous population. Dunstan described the mission he visited as having “bad vibes.” He found it difficult to communicate with the elderly man, and was not sure if he understood Dunstan’s quest, as his “responses came as disjointed raves about Jesus and saving grace” (Dunstan, e-mail). Uncle Lyle, he claimed, did not respond affirmatively or negatively to the suggestion that Nimbin was cursed, and so Dunstan left assuming it was not true. Other organisers began to believe the curse and worried that female festival goers might get sick or worse, die. This interpretation reflected, as Vanessa Bible argues, a general Eurocentric misunderstanding of the relationship of Indigenous peoples with the land. Paul Joseph admits they were naïve whites coming into a place with very little understanding, “we didn’t know if we needed a witch doctor or what we needed but we knew we needed something from the Aborigines to lift the spell!”(Joseph and Hanley). Joseph, one of the first “hippies” who moved to the area, had joined forces with AUS organisers. He said, “it just felt right” to get Indigenous involvement and recounted how organisers made another trip to Woodenbong Mission to find Dickee (Richard) Donnelly, a Song Man, who was very happy to be invited. Whether the curse was valid or not it proved to be productive in further instigating respectful action. Perhaps feeling out of their depth, the organisers initiated another strategy to engage with Australian Indigenous people. A call out was sent through the AUS network to diversify the cultural input and it was recommended they engage the services of South African artist, Bauxhau Stone. Timing aligned well as in 1972 Australia had voted in a new Prime Minister, Gough Whitlam. Whitlam brought about significant political changes, many in response to socialist protests that left a buoyancy in the air for the counterculturalist movement. He made prodigious political changes in support of Indigenous people, including creating the Aboriginal Arts Board as part of the Australian Council of the Arts (ACA). As the ACA were already funding activities for the Aquarius Festival, organisers were successful in gaining two additional grants specifically for Indigenous participation (Farnham). As a result We were able to hire […] representatives, a couple of Kalahari bushmen. ‘Cause we were so dumb, we didn’t think we could speak to the black people, you know what I mean, we thought we would be rejected, or whatever, so for us to really reach out, we needed somebody black to go and talk to them, or so we thought, and it was remarkable. This one Bau, a remarkable fellow really, great artist, great character, he went all over Australia. He went to Pitjantjatjara, Yirrkala and we arranged buses and tents when they got here. We had a very large contingent of Aboriginal people come to the Aquarius Festival, thanks to Whitlam. (Joseph in Joseph and Henley) It was under the aegis of these government grants that Bauxhau Stone conducted his work. Stone embodied a nexus of contemporary issues. Acutely aware of the international movement for racial equality and its relevance to Australia, where conditions were “really appalling”, Stone set out to transform Australian race relations by engaging with the alternative arts movement (Stone). While his white Australian contemporaries may have been unaccustomed to dealing with the Indigenous racial issue, Stone was actively engaged and thus well suited to act as a cultural envoy for the Aquarius Festival. He visited several local missions, inviting people to attend and notifying them of ceremonies being conducted by respected Elders. Nimbin was then the site of the Aquarius Lifestyle and Celebration Festival, a two week gathering of alternative cultures, technologies and youth. It innovatively demonstrated its diversity of influences, attracted people from all over the world and was the first time that the general public really witnessed Australia’s counterculture (Derrett 224). As markers of cultural life, counterculture festivals of the 1960s and 1970s were as iconic as the era itself and many around the world drew on the unique Indigenous heritage of their settings in some form or another (Partridge; Perone; Broadley and Jones; Zolov). The social phenomenon of coming together to experience, celebrate and foster a sense of unity was triggered by protests, music and a simple, yet deep desire to reconnect with each other. Festivals provided an environment where the negative social pressures of race, gender, class and mores (such as clothes) were suspended and held the potential “for personal and social transformation” (St John 167). With the expressed intent to “take matters into our own hands” and try to develop alternative, innovative ways of doing things with collective participation, the Aquarius Festival thus became an optimal space for reinvigorating ancient and Indigenous ways (Dunstan, “A Survival Festival”). With philosophies that venerated collectivism, tribalism, connecting with the earth, and the use of ritual, the Indigenous presence at the Aquarius Festival gave attendees the opportunity to experience these values. To connect authentically with Nimbin’s landscape, forming bonds with the Traditional Owners was essential. Participants were very fortunate to have the presence of the last known initiated men of the area, Uncle Lyle Roberts and Uncle Dickee Donnely. These Elders represented the last vestiges of an ancient culture and conducted innovative ceremonies, song, teachings and created a sacred fire for the new youth they encountered in their land. They welcomed the young people and were very happy for their presence, believing it represented a revolutionary shift (Wedd; King; John Roberts; Cecil Roberts). Images 1 and 2: Ceremony and talks conducted at the Aquarius Festival (people unknown). Photographs reproduced by permission of photographer and festival attendee Paul White. The festival thus provided an important platform for the regeneration of cultural and spiritual practices. John Roberts, nephew of Uncle Lyle, recalled being surprised by the reaction of festival participants to his uncle: “He was happy and then he started to sing. And my God … I couldn’t get near him! There was this big ring of hippies around him. They were about twenty deep!” Sharing to an enthusiastic, captive audience had a positive effect and gave the non-indigenous a direct Indigenous encounter (Cecil Roberts; King; Oshlak). Estimates of the number of Indigenous people in attendance vary, with the main organisers suggesting 800 to 1000 and participants suggesting 200 to 400 (Stone; Wedd; Oshlak: Joseph; King; Cecil Roberts). As the Festival lasted over a two week period, many came and left within that time and estimates are at best reliant on memory, engagement and perspectives. With an estimated total attendance at the Festival between 5000 and 10,000, either number of Indigenous attendees is symbolic and a significant symbolic statistic for Indigenous and non-indigenous to be together on mutual ground in Australia in 1973. Images 3-5: Performers from Yirrkala Dance Group, brought to the festival by Stone with funding from the Federal Government. Photographs reproduced by permission of photographer and festival attendee Dr Ian Cameron. For Indigenous people, the event provided an important occasion to reconnect with their own people, to share their culture with enthusiastic recipients, as well as the chance to experience diverse aspects of the counterculture. Though the northern NSW region has a history of diverse cultural migration of Italian and Indian families, the majority of non-indigenous and Indigenous people had limited interaction with cosmopolitan influences (Kijas 20). Thus Nimbin was a conservative region and many Christianised Indigenous people were also conservative in their outlook. The Aquarius Festival changed that as the Indigenous people experienced the wide-ranging cultural elements of the alternative movement. The festival epitomised countercultural tendencies towards flamboyant fashion and hairstyles, architectural design, fantastical art, circus performance, Asian clothes and religious products, vegetarian food and nudity. Exposure to this bohemian culture would have surely led to “mind expansion and consciousness raising,” explicit aims adhered to by the movement (Roszak). Performers and participants from Africa, America and India also gave attending Indigenous Australians the opportunity to interact with non-European cultures. Many people interviewed for this paper indicated that Indigenous people’s reception of this festival experience was joyous. For Australia’s early counterculture, interest in Indigenous Australia was limited and for organisers of the AUS Aquarius Festival, it was not originally on the agenda. The counterculture in the USA and New Zealand had already started to engage with their Indigenous people some years earlier. However due to the Aquarius Festival’s origins in the student movement and its solidarities with the international Indigenous activist movement, they were forced to shift their priorities. The coincidental selection of a significant spiritual location at Nimbin to hold the festival brought up additional challenges and countercultural intrigue with mystical powers and a desire to connect authentically to the land, further prompted action. Essentially, it was the voices of empowered Indigenous activists, like Gary Foley, which in fact triggered the reaching out to Indigenous involvement. While the counterculture organisers were ultimately receptive and did act with unprecedented respect, credit must be given to Indigenous activists. The activist’s role is to trigger action and challenge thinking and in this case, it was ultimately productive. Therefore the Indigenous people were not merely passive recipients of beneficiary goodwill, but active instigators of appropriate cultural exchange. After the 1973 festival many attendees decided to stay in Nimbin to purchase land collectively and a community was born. Relationships established with local Indigenous people developed further. Upon visiting Nimbin now, one will see a vibrant visual display of Indigenous and psychedelic themed art, a central park with an open fire tended by local custodians and other Indigenous community members, an Aboriginal Centre whose rent is paid for by local shopkeepers, and various expressions of a fusion of counterculture and Indigenous art, music and dance. While it appears that reconciliation became the aspiration for mainstream society in the 1990s, Nimbin’s early counterculture history had Indigenous reconciliation at its very foundation. The efforts made by organisers of the 1973 Aquarius Festival stand as one of very few examples in Australian history where non-indigenous Australians have respectfully sought to learn from Indigenous people and to assimilate their cultural practices. It also stands as an example for the world, of reconciliation, based on hippie ideals of peace and love. 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