Journal articles on the topic 'Kangaroos Australia Reproduction'

Eastern grey kangaroos are widespread on the east coast of Australia and frequently reach high densities in reserves and parkland near urban areas. Management of these populations is highly contentious and non-lethal fertility-control technologies are sought as an alternative option to manage population size. This study evaluated the potential of slow-release gonadotrophin-releasing hormone agonist (deslorelin) implants to inhibit reproduction in female kangaroos. Deslorelin treatment effectively inhibited reproduction in adult females for periods of 559 ± 111 days (n = 6) and 651 ± 21 days (n = 5) after administration of one or two 10-mg implants respectively. Animals treated with the lower dosage tended to resume breeding earlier than those that received a total of 20 mg of deslorelin (minimum duration of 18 months). Deslorelin treatment had no effect on blastocyst reactivation in a single treated female and repeat treatment had no negative side-effects. This study has demonstrated that slow-release deslorelin implants can successfully inhibit reproduction for extended periods in the female eastern grey kangaroos. This approach may have potential application in reproductive management of problem kangaroo populations.

The eastern grey kangaroo is a common and iconic species of Australia. Its specialised behaviour and reproduction have evolved as adaptations to the Australian environment, allowing the species to survive and flourish, despite wide climatic and seasonal variations in habitat. Across its range, the eastern grey kangaroo is harvested and subjected to population management for a variety of reasons, including localised over-abundance, livestock competition, crop grazing, native habitat conservation, animal welfare and direct threats to human safety. Population management of kangaroos is most commonly undertaken by shooting, although other methods such as reproductive control, translocation and repellents may also contribute successfully to management. Kangaroo harvesting and population control are controversial and divisive, because the kangaroo is perceived as both a national icon and as a pest species. Although a limited number of surveys have been undertaken on attitudes towards kangaroos and their management, the socio-political aspects affecting these issues are yet to be systematically investigated. Within this review we discuss the relevance of culture and language to species management and conservation, as well as the importance of scrutiny of stakeholder perceptions, motivations and values. Future directions should examine human dimensions that influence kangaroo-management decisions and conservation. The following three key aspects are recommended as research and management priorities: (1) experimental determination of whether gaps exist between actual and perceived impacts of kangaroo populations, (2) empirical investigation of how stakeholder language, culture, identity and values influence perceptions of kangaroos and their management, and (3) where population control is determined to be necessary, an incorporation of stakeholder differences within decision making to ensure best outcomes for both species conservation and population management.

The populations of western grey kangaroos (Macropus fuliginosus) and euros (M. robustus erubescens) in a 1196-ha area of native vegetation in the central wheatbelt of Western Australia were studied over six years (1985-91). The area was isolated from other remnants of native vegetation by at least 1.4 km. Captures were made periodically throughout each year and the animals weighed and measured. In all, 152 animals were captured (83 euros and 69 western grey kangaroos). The data for each sex and species were assigned to 'seasons' (February-July or August-January) and assessments made of body condition. The weights and tail circumstances, adjusted for individual size by regression on leg length, were higher for western grey kangaroos but not for euros in August-January. Euro males varied significantly in weight from year to year; euro females and grey males and females did not. Too few grey females were captured to analyse seasonality of reproduction. The estimated birth dates of 68 euro pouch young were distributed equally throughout the study period. There were approximately equal numbers of each species in an estimate made in 1988 from a helicopter survey, with a total (� s.e.) of 191�29 kangaroos. The mean faecal pellet counts on 42 Tied transects of 100 m2 did not differ significantly over the period 1985-88. These counts showed that the overall use of the different vegetation types varied by a factor of two. Heaths had the highest pellet counts and open mallee or woodland the least, with Allocasuarina-dominated shrublands being intermediate. Spotlight surveys around the reserve boundary showed a highly significant difference in distribution of the two species. This was confirmed by analysis of the home ranges of 13 radio-collared individuals. Euros showed a strong preference for areas of York gum-wandoo-jam woodland with a herbaceous ground layer and areas with tall Allocasuarina or dense heath. In contrast, the western grey kangaroos preferred the heathlands and open woodlands without a herbaceous ground cover. The sex ratios of the whole populations seen in spotlight searches was 0.72 : 1.00 (males: females) for western grey kangaroos and 0.81 : 1.00 for euros. Both differ significantly from parity. There was a higher proportion of female euros amongst the animals seen in the western part of the reserve than in the eastern part. These populations relied mainly on the resources of the reserve. The average number of kangaroos seen on adjacent farmland on any one night varied from 3.6 in 1986 to 13.5 in 1991. A significantly higher proportion of males of both species were seen on farmland.

Immunocontraception involves eliciting an immune response against eggs, sperm or hormones so that successful reproduction is prevented. Work in Australasia is aimed at European rabbits (Oryctolagus cuniculus), red foxes (Vulpes vulpes), house mice (Mus musculus), common brushtail possums (Trichosurus vulpecula), koalas (Phascolartcos cinereus) and kangaroos (Macropus spp.), with the vaccines involved all containing self antigens or their relatives. Two fundamental problems have been inadequately addressed in this research. The first problem is that it is difficult to obtain strong immune responses against self antigens and so the vaccines may be ineffective. Most published data on the effect of immunocontraceptives on reproduction involve the use of an adjuvant of which there are many kinds. The materials enhance the immune response greatly. The most frequently used is Freund?s adjuvant which can cause chronic suffering. Its use on wildlife will lead to very negative public perceptions. There has been no convincing demonstration that successful immunocontraception is possible with any method of vaccination likely to be used in the field, if success is defined as contraception of a proportion of the population high enough for management requirements. If it is assumed that success can be achieved, the second fundamental problem arises with two potential consequences. Even with adjuvant, a substantial minority of the vaccinated animals remains fertile. The first consequence is that since failure to be contracepted is likely to be in part genetic, there is likely to be rapid selection for these non-responders. The method will become ineffective in a few generations. The second problem is that the offspring of the animals which breed will have altered immune responses. Their capacities to respond to their own pathogens or to harbor pathogens of other species in the same ecosystem are likely to be changed. The presence of chlamydia in P. cinereus and bovine tuberculosis in New Zealand T. vulpecula means that responses to these pathogens would have to be studied in offspring of immunocontracepted parents to ensure that the offspring were not more susceptible to them. New Zealand intentions to put an immunocontraceptive into a T. vulpecula gut worm must be viewed with caution by Australia. The eggs of transgenic worms will be easily transplanted either accidentally or deliberately back into Australia, and so infect T. vulpecula in Australia.

The short-beaked echidna is the most widely distributed endemic Australian mammal, and echidnas from different geographic areas differ so much in appearance that they have been assigned to several subspecies. In this paper, we present data obtained from free-ranging echidnas in southern Tasmania, and compare this with studies from other parts of Australia. In Tasmania mating occurs between early June and mid-September, and throughout Australia the normal breeding season lies within these limits. In echidnas from the more easterly parts of Australia reproduction closely follows hibernation, with Tasmanian echidnas showing a significant overlap between hibernation and reproduction. There is intense competition between males, and female echidnas from Tasmania show multiple matings. There are significant differences between echidnas from different areas of Australia in the use of nursery burrows and maternal care. One of the most dramatic differences is in duration of lactation: echidnas from Kangaroo Island wean the young at 204–210 days, but in Tasmania weaning occurs at 139–152 days, even though the masses of the young at weaning are comparable.

Context Fertility control of females with levonorgestrel or deslorelin implants shows promise for managing populations of overabundant eastern grey kangaroos (Macropus giganteus). Although these implants have been tested separately in captive and free-ranging kangaroos, there has been no direct comparison under equivalent field conditions. Aims We investigated the long-term efficacy of levonorgestrel and deslorelin implants, together with the cost of treatment, ease of administration, and the welfare of the animals, in a side-by-side trial under realistic management conditions. Methods We captured 65 adult female kangaroos over 11 days at a golf course in Anglesea, Victoria, Australia. We assigned each female to one of the following three experimental groups: levonorgestrel (210 mg, n = 18), deslorelin (9.4 mg, n = 24) or procedural control (n = 23). We monitored reproductive success for 8 years, by observing young in the pouch in winter and spring. Key results Natural fertility was high; in most years, less than 20% of control females failed to reproduce. For deslorelin-treated females, the odds of failing to reproduce were four times higher than for the control group; for levonorgestrel-treated females, these odds were 74 times higher. Deslorelin was ineffective after 3 years, whereas levonorgestrel was effective for at least 5 years. Conclusions Levonorgestrel was markedly superior in efficacy, as shown by a stronger contraceptive effect persisting for longer. In other respects, the two implants were comparable, being similar in cost and ease of delivery, and equally safe. Implications Only levonorgestrel implants fulfill their promise for non-lethal, long-term control of kangaroo populations. Deslorelin implants cannot be recommended for this purpose.

Herbivory is considered a major threat in many of the orchid-species recovery plans in Australia. Kangaroos and rabbits are the most commonly implicated herbivores; however, no studies have attempted to confirm their role. Regular monitoring of several populations of Caladenia rigida R.S.Rogers and C. tentaculata Schldl. during 3 years in the Mount Lofty Ranges, South Australia, revealed that up to 94% of flowers and 36% of seed capsules were browsed, whereas leaf herbivory was less prevalent. Furthermore, patterns of herbivory varied markedly among sites and across years. In two seasons, predation of C. rigida flowers inside a kangaroo- and rabbit-proof exclosure was equal to or higher than outside the exclosure. Florivory within populations was influenced by proximity to the habitat edge, although the direction of this response differed among sites. Various types of mesh cages were erected around plants to elucidate the size and type of herbivores. Plants protected from florivores were almost three times more likely to produce seed than were exposed plants; however, some cage types reduced pollination. Video surveillance confirmed the role of the white-winged chough, Corcorax melanorhamphos, as a florivore. The present study is the first one to identify a herbivore unequivocally, quantify the intensity and extent of floral herbivory across a range of populations, and assess the potential cost of florivory to the direct reproductive output of orchids.

Geoff Sharman was one of the most important figures in the post-war renaissance of research into the indigenous mammals of Australia. He discovered the remarkable phenomenon of delayed development, or embryonic diapause, in kangaroos. He pioneered marsupial cytogenetics, making seminal contributions to chromosome evolution, sex determination, and X chromosome dosage compensation in female marsupials. He inspired a whole generation of younger biologists to make the investigation of Australian mammals the primary objective of their professional careers. Fifty years before he began there had been a brief but highly fruitful period of investigation into the native fauna based at the University of Sydney Medical School.1 When the four pioneers departed to Chairs in Britain and Fellowship of the Royal Society, further research in the field languished until the 1950s. Sharman's research built on that pioneering work, particularly of J. P. Hill and his associates on the reproductive anatomy and development of marsupials, and then extended it into the new field of cytogenetics.

In New Zealand and Australia, 25 and 16 introduced mammals are viewed as pests, respectively, as well as a further 17 native mammals in Australia. Most introductions were deliberate and the deleterious effects became apparent later. These pests affect primary production, act as a sylvatic reservoir of disease, cause degradation of natural ecosystems, or threaten rare or endangered native animals and plants. Many species have multiple impacts. In Australia, some native mammals, particularly kangaroos and wallabies, are also controlled because of their adverse impacts on primary production. In both countries, current control depends largely on the use of poisons, shooting, the spread of disease (in the case of rabbits), trapping, habitat alteration, and commercial or recreational hunting. Methods of control by interfering with fertility (immunocontraception) are currently being investigated for rabbits, house mice, foxes, and kangaroos in Australia, and for the brushtail possum in New Zealand. If these methods prove effective, they may be applied to other mammal pests, but the need to tailor the particular approach to the ecology and behaviour of the species means that there will be a necessarily long lead time

Overabundant populations of kangaroos pose substantial management problems in small parks on the fringe of urban areas in Australia. Translocation is impractical and culling is often not publicly acceptable, but fertility control offers an acceptable alternative. One potential contraceptive is levonorgestrel, which provides effective long-term contraception in women, and prevents births in some marsupials for up to five years. We evaluated the long-term efficacy of levonorgestrel in free-ranging eastern grey kangaroos (M. giganteus) at two sites in Victoria, Australia. We trapped 25 adult females at one site (Portland Aluminium), treating 18 with two subcutaneous 70-mg levonorgestrel implants and seven with control (inert) implants. We darted 25 adult females at the other site (Woodlands Historic Park), treating all with two 70-mg levonorgestrel implants. We monitored the reproductive status of the kangaroos, as indicated by the obvious presence of a pouch young, in spring each year for up to seven years. In the first three years at Portland, 81–86% of levonorgestrel-treated females were infertile, compared with 12–29% in the control group, but the effectiveness of fertility control declined over time. At this site, the proportions of treated females breeding in the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years of the trial were 36%, 50%, 67% and 100% respectively. Fecundity at Woodlands was similar. Although this protocol achieved fertility control for several years, it was likely that more than one treatment or a higher dose rate would be required for effective fertility control in this long-lived species.

Throughout their Australia-wide distribution, short-beaked echidnas breed during the winter months, i.e. June through early September. Actual duration of the female reproductive cycle, from attracting males and mating until weaning the young, can vary from 7 to 9 months depending on geographic location. Much of this variation is due to length of courtship and age of weaning the young. This paper presents data about the behaviour of free-ranging female echidnas on Kangaroo Island from egg laying through to weaning and compares it with findings from other areas. On Kangaroo Island, behaviour of lactating echidnas falls into two distinct phases: (1) while carrying the young in the pouch; and (2) after the young is placed in a nursery burrow. Females significantly increased both the number of hours active each day as well as the size of area utilised after the young was in the nursery. Although types of nursery burrows are similar throughout Australia, duration of use and frequency visited varies between geographic locations. A major difference is that Kangaroo Island echidnas are often active while carrying either the egg or the young in the pouch and echidnas in other regions remain in a burrow for extended periods.

Sexual segregation is best known in sexually dimorphic ungulates. Many hypotheses have been proposed to explain the evolution of sexual segregation in ungulates, but all are reducible to the influence of two factors: body size and sex-specific reproductive strategy. Definitive tests of these hypotheses are lacking in ungulates because these factors are confounded, all males being somewhat larger than females. Kangaroos represent a parallel radiation of terrestrial herbivores, but their populations are composed of a spectrum of adult body sizes, ranging from small males the same size as females to large males more than twice the size. We exploited this heteromorphism to assess the independent influences of size and sex in these ungulate analogues. We conducted a preliminary study of western grey kangaroos (Macropus fuliginosus) in north-western Victoria, Australia. Adult males predominately occupied grassland habitat, whereas females occurred mostly in lakebed, woodland and shrubland. Single-sex groups occurred more often than expected during the non-mating season. The diet of large males had the highest proportion of grass, and females had the least. These initial results indicate that both size and sex influence segregation in this species, confirming the worth of kangaroos as marsupial models for research into the evolution of sexual segregation.

A subpopulation of western grey kangaroos (Macropus fuliginosus) living in a 305-ha remnant of wandoo woodland in the mediterranean climate of the south-west of Western Australia was studied for 10 years. Measurements and estimates were made of a wide range of population characteristics including population size, composition, reproductive rate, emigration and immigration rates and death rates. Growth rates of males and females were established and yearly differences in nutritional status assessed. The population increased over four years from 146 � 22 to a plateau of around 200 before being culled to 95. The numbers then increased slowly over another six years to 158 individuals. The population had an average of 46 adult males per 100 adult females. Subadults plus juveniles made up 10-36% of the population, depending on the year. Breeding was seasonal, being earlier in years with early autumn rain. Reproductive rate was higher, overall, in these years. Females became sexually mature at about 16 kg, their reproductive rate increased with weight until they reached 24 kg; 91% of adult females over 24 kg had pouch young annually. Mortality of young appeared to be high, and to be the factor regulating the population. On average, only 27% of young survived the first year after leaving the pouch. Emigration rate was estimated to exceed immigration by 5% per annum. The estimated mortality rate of adults was 5% per annum. The nutritional status of individuals varied from year to year; within a year, only females were heavier in early summer than in later summer. It was concluded from faecal nitrogen levels that nitrogen was not a major factor influencing nutritional status in summer. Fifteen years after this remnant woodland was established by clearing, the subpopulation of kangaroos living in it appeared to be relatively stable in numbers, and certainly was not showing the marked fluctuations known to occur in semi-arid areas of Australia.

Plants pollinated by vertebrates are often visited by native and exotic insects foraging for pollen and nectar. We compared flower visitation rates, foraging behaviour, and the contribution to reproduction of nectar-feeding birds and the introduced honeybee Apis mellifera in four populations of the bird-pollinated Anigozanthos manglesii (Haemodoraceae). The behaviour of floral visitors was quantified with direct observations and motion-triggered and hand-held cameras. Pollinator access to flowers was manipulated by enclosure in netting to either exclude all visitors or to exclude vertebrate visitors only. Apis mellifera was the only insect observed visiting flowers, and the most frequent flower visitor, but primarily acted as a pollen thief. Although birds visited A. manglesii plants only once per week on average, they were 3.5 times more likely to contact the anther or stigma as foraging honeybees. Exclusion of birds resulted in 67% fewer fruits and 81% fewer seeds than flowers left open and unmanipulated. Unnetted flowers that were open to bird and insect pollinators showed pollen-limitation and a large variation in reproductive output within and between sites. Although honeybees have been shown to pollinate other Australian plants, compared to birds, they are highly inefficient pollinators of A. manglesii.

We present data from an 18-year study of a wild population of Tasmanian echidnas, which show that the presence of spurs in an adult are a reliable indicator of sex, and that there is a slight but significant sexual dimorphism in size, with a male to female mass ratio of 1.1. Minimum age at first breeding in the wild for Tasmanian echidnas was 5 years, as has been found on Kangaroo Island, compared with 3 years in captive echidnas. It is often assumed that although the echidna is distributed throughout Australia, New Guinea and off-shore islands that all aspects of its basic biology are the same in all populations, but comparisons of our results with data from other populations suggest that there may be differences in size and sexual dimorphism.

Context Fertility control offers a non-lethal management technique for iconic yet overabundant wildlife. Slow-release hormonal implants containing deslorelin show promise for managing free-ranging populations, particularly in peri-urban reserves, but most studies have been limited to captivity. Aims We investigated the efficacy and mechanism of deslorelin implants in free-ranging female eastern grey kangaroos (Macropus giganteus) under realistic management conditions. Methods We assigned females to a deslorelin (9.4 mg, n = 53) or placebo (n = 56) group at three peri-urban sites in Victoria, Australia, and monitored reproductive success for 3 years by observing young in the pouch. We tested the plasma LH response of control and treated females to exogenous GnRH, and compared the size of ovarian follicles between the two groups. Key results Deslorelin implants reduced fertility at all three sites. No deslorelin-treated females bred in Year 1 at Anglesea and Serendip versus 42% and 44% of control females respectively. At Plenty Gorge, 60% of deslorelin-treated females bred in Year 1 versus 100% of control females. In Year 2, between 11% and 39% of the treated females bred versus between 82% and 100% of control females at all sites. The contraceptive efficacy reduced by Year 3 when between 43% and 57% of the treated females bred versus between 85% and 100% of controls. A GnRH challenge elicited higher plasma LH concentrations in control than in treated females, and unlike untreated females, treated females lacked ovarian follicles >2 mm. Conclusions Deslorelin implants reduced fertility in free-ranging female eastern grey kangaroos over three successive breeding seasons. Chronic exposure to deslorelin desensitised the pituitary gland to GnRH and suppressed follicular development, but did not inhibit the development of a blastocyst, pregnancy or lactation in at least some females that had conceived before treatment. Implications Effective population management using deslorelin implants will require females to be re-treated on multiple occasions because the contraceptive effect lasts only a portion of their reproductive life. This would be practical only at sites where kangaroos are relatively easy to capture. The timing of treatment is also important in a species that undergoes embryonic diapause, particularly at sites providing high-quality habitat.

Embryonic development of birds is directly affected by nest temperature and humidity. Nest site selection may therefore have a large impact on reproductive success. Cape Barren geese (Cereopsis novaehollandiae) use a variety of nesting materials and sites that potentially create quite different environments for the eggs. We categorised nests according to their protective cover and monitored nest temperature, cooling rate, nest humidity, solar radiation level, female incubation constancy and reproductive success on Kangaroo Island, South Australia. Nest type was not correlated with clutch size or timing of incubation. Nest temperature and water vapour pressure were slightly lower in exposed nests (33.6–33.7°C, 2.60–2.94 kPa) than in more protected nests (34.7–35.0°C, 3.34–3.83 kPa), but incubation constancy and cooling rate during recesses did not differ between exposed and protected nests. Incubation constancy was 92.4% ± 4.2% (s.d.). Three to four recesses of 38 ± 10 min were undertaken, mainly between 08:00 and 16:30 hours. Total recess time, but not individual recess duration, was positively correlated with mean daily temperature, whereas rainfall had no effect on incubation constancy. Solar radiation input was generally stronger during recesses. Nests of Cape Barren geese were well insulated with large amounts of down; thus, nest type had minor influences on nest temperature and humidity and female behaviour. Hatching success was 88% overall, and did not depend on nest type.

Information on the dynamics of gamete interaction in marsupials is very limited and not available for any species from the major Australian Order Diprotodontia which includes most of the more familiar animals such as kangaroos, possums and the koala. This study addressed this deficiency by examining the ultrastructure of in vivo fertilised eggs from common brushtail possums (Trichosurus vulpecula). Females were superovulated by treatment with 15 IU PMSG and then 4 mg porcine LH 3 days later, and inseminations were performed 910-13 h after LH) using epididymal spermatozoa. Between 33 and 39 h after LH injection females were killed, reproductive tracts excised and the oviduct ampulla segment flushed for eggs. Three of the six eggs examined were fertilised as judged by the presence of sperm remnants in the cytoplasm. On the basis of these eggs it was found that sperm penetration left a large hole in the zona pellucida (ZP), suggesting that sperm zona penetration occurs primarily by the enzymatic action of acrosomal enzymes. Sperm lying within the perivitelline space were lacking both an outer acrosomal membrane and the associated acrosomal contents, while both these structures were found on sperm embedded within the mucoid layer, which is consistent with induction of the acrosome reaction by binding to the ZP. Once inside the egg cytoplasm, the sperm head travelled only a short distance before chromatin decondensation occurred. Fertilised eggs showed signs of cytoplasmic activation including cytoskeleton association with apparently dividing mitochondria and prominent rough endoplasmic reticulum. Unfertilised eggs appeared to be undergoing degenerative changes and lacked any evidence of activation. This study has demonstrated that superovulation and laparoscopic intravaginal artificial insemination provide a system through which perifertilisation events in the possum and other monovular Australian marsupials can be examined experimentally.

In human pregnancy, recognition of an embryo within the uterus is essential to support the fetus through gestation. In most marsupials, such as the opossums, pregnancy is shorter than the oestrous cycle and the steroid hormone profile during pregnancy and oestrous cycle are indistinguishable. For these reasons, it was assumed that recognition of pregnancy, as a trait, evolved in the eutherian (placental) stem lineage and independently in wallabies and kangaroos. To investigate whether uterine recognition of pregnancy occurs in species with pregnancy shorter than the oestrous cycle, we examined reproduction in the short-tailed opossum ( Monodelphis domestica ), a marsupial with a plesiomorphic mode of pregnancy. We examined the morphological and gene expression changes in the uterus of females in the non-pregnant oestrous cycle and compared these to pregnancy. We found that the presence of an embryo did not alter some aspects of uterine development but increased glandular activity. Transcriptionally, we saw big differences between the uterus of pregnant and cycling animals. These differences included an upregulation of genes involved in transport, inflammation and metabolic-activity in response to the presence of a fetus. Furthermore, transcriptional differences reflected protein level differences in transporter abundance. Our results suggest that while the uterus exhibits programmed changes after ovulation, its transcriptional landscape during pregnancy responds to the presence of a fetus and upregulates genes that may be essential for fetal support. These results are consistent with endometrial recognition of pregnancy occurring in the opossum. While the effects on maternal physiology appear to differ, recognition of pregnancy has now been observed in eutherian mammals, as well as, Australian and American marsupials.

Pasture growth rates in winter, in many regions are low, and this often sets the limit on the stocking rates possible on those pastures. This research was done to examine some of the reasons for the differences in productivity between grasses In winter. Eight perennial and two annual grasses were compared over three years in a field experiment, where mean daily air temperatures in winter averaged 5�C. Species separated into five groups. The largest yields, over winter from plots cut either in autumn or early winter, were obtained from Kangaroo Valley perennial ryegrass (Loliurn perenne) and Wimmera annual ryegrass (L. rigidurn). Their yields were significantly greater than from oats (Avena byzantina) and prairie grass (Bromus catharticus), which in turn were greater than mountain rye (Secale montanum) and Sirosa phalaris (Phularis aquatica); the next group were CPI 69358 perennial ryegrass, currie cocksfoot (Dactylis glomerata) and Australian Commercial phalaris, and least was CPI 68318 cocksfoot. Greater forage yield, within years, was obtained from grasses that switched into reproductive development early in winter rather than from a high leaf area index in swards prior to winter. Differences in yield between years were, though, related to differences in leaf area. The average sward net assimilation rates over winter were greater for ryegrass cultivars, and oats, than for the other species. Plots uncut from autumn had greater yields throughout winter but lower net assimilation rates. It was concluded that improved pasture yields in winter can be obtained by selecting or recommending grasses that commence reproductive development early. This effect would apply in most environments where temperate grasses and cereals are grown.

‘Xanthorrhoea…is in habit one of the most remarkable genera of Terra Australis, and gives a peculiar character to the vegetation of that part of the country where it abounds’ Robert Brown (1814). Grasstrees (arborescent Xanthorrhoea, Dasypogon, Kingia), with their crown of long narrow leaves and blackened leafbase-covered trunk (caudex), are a characteristic growth form in the Australian flora. Xanthorrhoea is the most widespread genus, with 28 species that are prominent from heathlands to sclerophyll forests. While leaf production for X. preissii reaches a peak in spring–summer, growth never stops even in the cool winter or dry autumn seasons. Summer rain, accompanied by a rapid rise in leaf water potential, may be sufficient to stimulate leaf production, whereas root growth is confined to the usual wet season. Grasstrees are highly flammable yet rarely succumb to fire: while retained dead leaves may reach >1000°C during fire, the temperature 100 mm above the stem apex remains <60°C and the roots are insulated completely. Immediately following fire, leaf production from the intact apical meristem is up to six times greater than that at unburnt sites. For X. preissii, pre-fire biomass is restored within 40 weeks; the mass of live leaves remains uniform from thereon, whereas the mass of dead leaves increases steadily. Leaves usually survive for >2 years. In X. preissii, the post-fire growth flush corresponds to a reduction in starch storage by desmium in the caudex. Minerals, especially P, are remobilised from the caudex to the crown following a spring fire, but accumulate there following an autumn fire. At least 80% of P is withdrawn from senescing leaves, while >95% K and Na are leached from dead leaves. Most stored N and S are volatilised by fire, with 1–85% of all minerals returned as ash. Despite monthly clipping for 16 months, X. preissii plants recover, although starch reserves are depleted by 90%, indicating considerable resilience to herbivory. Analysis of colour band patterns in the leafbases of X. preissii shows that elongation of the caudex may vary more than 5–50 mm per annum, with 10–20 mm being typical. Exceptionally tall plants (>3 m) may reach an age of 250 years, with a record at 450 years (6 m). Fires, recorded as black bands on the leafbases, in south-western Australia have been decreasing in frequency but increasing in variability since 1750–1850. Some grasstrees have survived a mean fire interval of 3–4 years over the last two centuries. In more recent times, some grasstrees have not been burnt for >50 years. The band-analysis technique has been used to show a downward trend in plant δ13C of 2–5.5‰ from 1935 to the present. Grasstrees are most likely to flower in the first spring after fire. A single inflorescence is initiated from the apical meristem, elongating at up to 100 mm day–1 and reaching a length up to 3 m, with one recorded at 5.5 m. This rapid rate of elongation is achieved through leaf (and inflorescence) photosynthesis and desmium starch mobilisation. The developing spike and seeds are vulnerable to a moth larva. Leaf production recommences from axillary buds and the trade-off with reproduction is equivalent to 240 leaves in X. preissii. Flowering and seed production are affected by time of fire. Grasstrees are mainly insect-pollinated. Up to 8000 seeds per spike are produced, although pre-dispersal granivory is common. Seeds are released in autumn and persist in the soil for <2 years. Most fresh seeds germinate in the laboratory but germination is inhibited by light. At any time, seedlings and juveniles may account for most plants in the population, although there may be up to an 80% reduction within 1 year of seedling emergence, often due to kangaroo herbivory. In the absence of fire, mortality of adults may be 4% per annum. Although few grasstree species are considered rare or threatened, their conservation requirements, especially in regard to a suitable fire regime, remain unknown. Grasstrees are particularly susceptible to the exotic root pathogen, Phytophthora cinnamomi, although recruitment among some species has been observed 20–30 years after pathogen invasion. Much remains to be known about the biology of this icon of the Australian bush.

Subcutaneous hormone implants are a useful method for managing overabundant marsupials in restricted enclosures in Australia. Levonorgestrel induces long-term infertility in the kangaroo, tammar wallaby and koala, although the contraceptive mechanism of levonorgestrel is unknown for any marsupial. In the present study, it was investigated if insertion of a single levonorgestrel or control implant at the time of reactivation of the diapausing blastocyst affected the subsequent post-partum oestrus or the preceding follicular development. Twenty levonorgestrel-treated and 16 control animals were autopsied the day before birth and the accompanying post-partum oestrus (Day 25), and 10 levonorgestrel-treated and five of the nine control animals were autopsied 3–4 days (Days 29–30) after the expected birth and oestrus. Peripartum behaviour was observed and birth and mating times were recorded. Levonorgestrel treatment did not prevent follicular growth because there was no significant difference between treatment and control animals in the size of the dominant follicle at Day 25. None of the levonorgestrel-treated females autopsied at Days 29–30 had ovulated (n = 10), in contrast to controls, where four of the five that were autopsied had ovulated. Mating occurred in eight of nine control animals but in only three of 10 levonorgestrel-treated females. Males showed a more sustained period of interest in the three that were mated than in the controls, and mating took place significantly later after birth (36 v. 10 h; P = 0.038). Follicular growth and development was not blocked in any female but only one-third of the animals mated and none ovulated after levonorgestrel treatment. These results suggest that levonorgestrel inhibits the preovulatory surge of luteinising hormone.

This article explores how human and animal agencies shape the socio-ecological lifeworlds of kangaroos as cultural icons, native wildlife, problematic pests, and commercial meat in contemporary Australia. Kangaroos’ resistance to Western, colonial ways of knowing and ordering the world fundamentally challenged the classificatory logic and foundations of early natural science. Kangaroos’ biological and behavioral resistance to domestication and farming – the traditional loci of animal exploitation – speaks to their inherent wildness, at the same time as it reveals their complicated dependence on ecosystems adapted for introduced livestock. Meanwhile, kangaroos’ resistance to government-endorsed population control programs, and the contested logic of (over)abundance that justifies kangaroo culling, both challenges and legitimates human calculations of who and what “counts” as worth conserving or killing. In tandem, the sensorial and symbolic valences of kangaroo flesh, compounded with the growing voices of animal welfare movements, generate visceral and political resistance to kangaroo meat as an unpalatable foodstuff. The article further centers the polysemic valences of kangaroos as a form of resistance to symbolic unity and coherence. Existing as many things at once, kangaroos eschew classification and treatment as any one thing. Instead, their ontology multiplies across the many epistemologies vying to determine kangaroos’ actual being and future becoming. The article concludes by assessing the opportunities and challenges of centering resistance and its diverse epistemic, vitalist, symbolic, and carnal manifestations to understand animal lifeways and deathways amidst entrenched capitalist and colonial regimes, whose reproduction depends on the production of the non-human as “killable.”

Historians have often been compared with detectives; searching for clues as evidence of a mystery they are seeking to solve. I would prefer an association with food, making history like a trained cook who blends particular ingredients, some fresh, some traditional, using specific methods to create an object that is consumed. There are primary sources, fresh and raw ingredients that you often have to go to great lengths to procure, and secondary sources, prepared initially by someone else. The same recipe may yield different meals, the same meal may provoke different responses. On a continuum of approaches to history and food, there are those who approach both as a scientific endeavour and, at the other end of the spectrum, those who make history and food as art. Brought together, it is possible to see cookbooks as history in at least two important ways; they give meaning to the past by representing culinary heritage and they are in themselves sources of history as documents and blueprints for experiences that can be interpreted to represent the past. Many people read cookbooks and histories with no intention of preparing the meal or becoming a historian. I do a little of both. I enjoy reading history and cookbooks for pleasure but, as a historian, I also read them interchangeably; histories to understand cookbooks and cookbooks to find out more about the past. History and the past are different of course, despite their use in the English language. It is not possible to relive the past, we can only interpret it through the traces that remain. Even if a reader had an exact recipe and an antique stove, vegetables grown from heritage seeds in similar conditions, eggs and grains from the same region and employed the techniques his or her grandparents used, they could not replicate their experience of a meal. Undertaking those activities though would give a reader a sense of that experience. Active examination of the past is possible through the processes of research and writing, but it will always be an interpretation and not a reproduction of the past itself. Nevertheless, like other histories, cookbooks can convey a sense of what was important in a culture, and what contemporaries might draw on that can resonate a cultural past and make the food palatable. The way people eat relates to how they apply ideas and influences to the material resources and knowledge they have. Used in this way, cookbooks provide a rich and valuable way to look at the past. Histories, like cookbooks, are written in the present, inspired and conditioned by contemporary issues and attitudes and values. Major shifts in interpretation or new directions in historical studies have more often arisen from changes in political or theoretical preoccupations, generated by contemporary social events, rather than the recovery of new information. Likewise, the introduction of new ingredients or methods rely on contemporary acceptance, as well as familiarity. How particular versions of history and new recipes promote both the past and present is the concern of this paper. My focus below will be on the nineteenth century, although a much larger study would reveal the circumstances that separated that period from the changes that followed. Until the late nineteenth century Australians largely relied on cookbooks that were brought with them from England and on their own private recipe collection, and that influenced to a large extent the sort of food that they ate, although of course they had to improvise by supplementing with local ingredients. In the first book of recipes that was published in Australia, The English and Australian Cookery Book that appeared in 1864, Edward Abbott evoked the ‘roast beef of old England Oh’ (Bannerman, Dictionary). The use of such a potent symbol of English identity in the nineteenth century may seem inevitable, and colonists who could afford them tended to use their English cookbooks and the ingredients for many years, even after Abbott’s publication. New ingredients, however, were often adapted to fit in with familiar culinary expectations in the new setting. Abbott often drew on native and exotic ingredients to produce very familiar dishes that used English methods and principles: things like kangaroo stuffed with beef suet, breadcrumbs, parsley, shallots, marjoram, thyme, nutmeg, pepper, salt, cayenne, and egg. It was not until the 1890s that a much larger body of Australian cookbooks became available, but by this time the food supply was widely held to be secure and abundant and the cultivation of exotic foods in Australia like wheat and sheep and cattle had established a long and familiar food supply for English colonists. Abbott’s cookbook provides a record of the culinary heritage settlers brought with them to Australia and the contemporary circumstances they had to adapt to. Mrs Beeton’s Cookery Book and Household Guide is an example of the popularity of British cookbooks in Australia. Beeton’s Kangaroo Tail Curry was included in the Australian cooking section of her household management (2860). In terms of structure it is important for historians as one of the first times, because Beeton started writing in the 1860s, that ingredients were clearly distinguished from the method. This actually still presents considerable problems for publishers. There is debate about whether that should necessarily be the case, because it takes up so much space on the page. Kangaroo Tail CurryIngredients:1 tail2 oz. Butter1 tablespoon of flour1 tablespoon of curry2 onions sliced1 sour apple cut into dice1 desert spoon of lemon juice3/4 pint of stocksaltMethod:Wash, blanch and dry the tail thoroughly and divide it at the joints. Fry the tail in hot butter, take it up, put it in the sliced onions, and fry them for 3 or 4 minutes without browning. Sprinkle in the flour and curry powder, and cook gently for at least 20 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the stock, apple, salt to taste, bring to the boil, stirring meanwhile, and replace the tail in the stew pan. Cover closely, and cook gently until tender, then add the lemon juice and more seasoning if necessary. Arrange the pieces of tail on a hot dish, strain the sauce over, and serve with boiled rice.Time: 2-3 hoursSufficient for 1 large dish. Although the steps are not clearly distinguished from each other the method is more systematic than earlier recipes. Within the one sentence, however, there are still two or three different sorts of tasks. The recipe also requires to some extent a degree of discretion, knowledge and experience of cooking. Beeton suggests adding things to taste, cooking something until it is tender, so experience or knowledge is necessary to fulfil the recipe. The meal also takes between two and three hours, which would be quite prohibitive for a lot of contemporary cooks. New recipes, like those produced in Delicious have recipes that you can do in ten minutes or half an hour. Historically, that is a new development that reveals a lot about contemporary conditions. By 1900, Australian interest in native food had pretty much dissolved from the record of cookbooks, although this would remain a feature of books for the English public who did not need to distinguish themselves from Indigenous people. Mrs Beeton’s Cookery Book and Household Guide gave a selection of Australian recipes but they were primarily for the British public rather than the assumption that they were being cooked in Australia: kangaroo tail soup was cooked in the same way as ox tail soup; roast wallaby was compared to hare. The ingredients were wallaby, veal, milk and butter; and parrot pie was said to be not unlike one made of pigeons. The novelty value of such ingredients may have been of interest, rather than their practical use. However, they are all prepared in ways that would make them fairly familiar to European tastes. Introducing something new with the same sorts of ingredients could therefore proliferate the spread of other foods. The means by which ingredients were introduced to different regions reflects cultural exchanges, historical processes and the local environment. The adaptation of recipes to incorporate local ingredients likewise provides information about local traditions and contemporary conditions. Starting to see those ingredients as a two-way movement between looking at what might have been familiar to people and what might have been something that they had to do make do with because of what was necessarily available to them at that time tells us about their past as well as the times they are living in. Differences in the level of practical cooking knowledge also have a vital role to play in cookbook literature. Colin Bannerman has suggested that the shortage of domestic labour in Australia an important factor in supporting the growth of the cookbook industry in the late nineteenth century. The poor quality of Australian cooking was also an occasional theme in the press during the same time. The message was generally the same: bad food affected Australians’ physical, domestic, social and moral well-being and impeded progress towards civilisation and higher culture. The idea was really that Australians had to learn how to cook. Colin Bannerman (Acquired Tastes 19) explains the rise of domestic science in Australia as a product of growing interest in Australian cultural development and the curse of bad cookery, which encouraged support for teaching girls and women how to cook. Domestic Economy was integrated into the Victorian and New South Wales curriculum by the end of the nineteenth century. Australian women have faced constant criticism of their cooking skills but the decision to teach cooking shouldn’t necessarily be used to support that judgement. Placed in a broader framework is possible to see the support for a modern, scientific approach to food preparation as part of both the elevation of science and systematic knowledge in society more generally, and a transnational movement to raise the status of women’s role in society. It would also be misleading not to consider the transnational context. Australia’s first cookery teachers were from Britain. The domestic-science movement there can be traced to the congress on domestic economy held in Manchester in 1878, at roughly the same time as the movement was gaining strength in Australia. By the 1890s domestic economy was widely taught in both British and Australian schools, without British women facing the same denigration of their cooking skills. Other comparisons with Britain also resulted from Australia’s colonial heritage. People often commented on the quality of the ingredients in Australia and said they were more widely available than they were in England but much poorer in quality. Cookbooks emerged as a way of teaching people. Among the first to teach cookery skills was Mina Rawson, author of The Antipodean Cookery Book and the Kitchen Companion first published in 1885. The book was a compilation of her own recipes and remedies, and it organised and simplified food preparation for the ordinary housewife. But the book also included directions and guidance on things like household tasks and how to cure diseases. Cookbooks therefore were not completely distinct from other aspects of everyday life. They offered much more than culinary advice on how to cook a particular meal and can similarly be used by historians to comment on more than food. Mrs Rawson also knew that people had to make do. She included a lot of bush foods that you still do not get in a lot of Australian meals, ingredients that people could substitute for the English ones they were used to like pig weed. By the end of the nineteenth century cooking had become a recognised classroom subject, providing early training in domestic service, and textbooks teaching Australians how to cook also flourished. Measurements became much more uniform, the layout of cookbooks became more standardised and the procedure was clearly spelled out. This allowed companies to be able to sell their foods because it also meant that you could duplicate the recipes and they could potentially taste the same. It made cookbooks easier to use. The audience for these cookbooks were mostly young women directed to cooking as a way of encouraging social harmony. Cooking was elevated in lots of ways at this stage as a social responsibility. Cookbooks can also be seen as a representation of domestic life, and historically this prescribed the activities of men and women as being distinct The dominance of women in cookbooks in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries attested to the strength of that idea of separate spheres. The consequences of this though has been debated by historians: whether having that particular kind of market and the identification that women were making with each other also provided a forum for women’s voices and so became quite significant in women’s politics at a later date. Cookbooks have been a strategic marketing device for products and appliances. By the beginning of the twentieth century food companies began to print recipes on their packets and to release their own cookbooks to promote their products. Davis Gelatine produced its first free booklet in 1904 and other companies followed suit (1937). The largest gelatine factory was in New South Wales and according to Davis: ‘It bathed in sunshine and freshened with the light breezes of Botany all year round.’ These were the first lavishly illustrated Australian cookbooks. Such books were an attempt to promote new foods and also to sell local foods, many of which were overproduced – such as milk, and dried fruits – which provides insights into the supply chain. Cookbooks in some ways reflected the changing tastes of the public, their ideas, what they were doing and their own lifestyle. But they also helped to promote some of those sorts of changes too. Explaining the reason for cooking, Isabella Beeton put forward an historical account of the shift towards increasing enjoyment of it. She wrote: "In the past, only to live has been the greatest object of mankind, but by and by comforts are multiplied and accumulating riches create new wants. The object then is to not only live but to live economically, agreeably, tastefully and well. Accordingly the art of cookery commences and although the fruits of the earth, the fowls of the air, the beasts of the field and the fish of the sea are still the only food of mankind, yet these are so prepared, improved and dressed by skill and ingenuity that they are the means of immeasurably extending the boundaries of human enjoyment. Everything that is edible and passes under the hands of cooks is more or less changed and assumes new forms, hence the influence of that functionary is immense upon the happiness of the household" (1249). Beeton anticipates a growing trend not just towards cooking and eating but an interest in what sustains cooking as a form of recreation. The history of cookbook publishing provides a glimpse into some of those things. The points that I have raised provide a means for historians to use cookbooks. Cookbooks can be considered in terms of what was eaten, by whom and how: who prepared the food, so to whom the books were actually directed? Clever books like Isabella Beeton’s were directed at both domestic servants and at wives, which gave them quite a big market. There are also changes in the inclusion of themes. Economy and frugality becomes quite significant, as do organisation and management at different times. Changes in the extent of detail, changes in authorship, whether it is women, men, doctors, health professionals, home economists and so on all reflect contemporary concerns. Many books had particular purposes as well, used to fund raise or promote a particular perspective, relate food reform and civic life which gives them a political agenda. Promotional literature produced by food and kitchen equipment companies were a form of advertising and quite significant to the history of cookbook publishing in Australia. Other themes include the influence of cookery school and home economics movements; advice on etiquette and entertaining; the influence of immigration and travel; the creation of culinary stars and authors of which we are all fairly familiar. Further themes include changes in ingredients, changes in advice about health and domestic medicine, and the impact of changes in social consciousness. It is necessary to place those changes in a more general historical context, but for a long time cookbooks have been ignored as a source of information in their own right about the period in which they were published and the kinds of social and political changes that we can see coming through. More than this active process of cooking with the books as well becomes a way of imagining the past in quite different ways than historians are often used to. Cookbooks are not just sources for historians, they are histories in themselves. The privileging of written and visual texts in postcolonial studies has meant other senses, taste and smell, are frequently neglected; and yet the cooking from historical cookbooks can provide an embodied, sensorial image of the past. From nineteenth century cookbooks it is possible to see that British foods were central to the colonial identity project in Australia, but the fact that “British” culinary culture was locally produced, challenges the idea of an “authentic” British cuisine which the colonies tried to replicate. By the time Abbot was advocating rabbit curry as an Australian family meal, back “at home” in England, it was not authentic Indian food but the British invention of curry power that was being incorporated into English cuisine culture. More than cooks, cookbook authors told a narrative that forged connections and disconnections with the past. They reflected the contemporary period and resonated with the culinary heritage of their readers. Cookbooks make history in multiple ways; by producing change, as the raw materials for making history and as historical narratives. References Abbott, Edward. The English and Australian Cookery Book: Cookery for the Many, as well as the Upper Ten Thousand. London: Sampson Low, Son & Marston, 1864. Bannerman, Colin. Acquired Tastes: Celebrating Australia’s Culinary History. Canberra: National Library of Australia, 1998. Bannerman, Colin. "Abbott, Edward (1801–1869)." Australian Dictionary of Biography. National Centre of Biography, Australian National University. 21 May 2013. . Beeton, Isabella. Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management. New Ed. London and Melbourne: Ward, Lock and Co. Ltd., n.d. (c. 1909). Davis Gelatine. Davis Dainty Dishes. Rev ed. Sydney: Davis Gelatine Organization, 1937. Rawson, Lance Mrs. The Antipodean Cookery Book and Kitchen Companion. Melbourne: George Robertson & Co., 1897.

In early 1888, Miss Margaret Pearson arrived in Melbourne under engagement to the Working Men’s College there to give cookery lessons to young women. The College committee had applied to the National School of Cookery in London—an establishment effusively praised in the colonial press—for a suitable culinary educator, and Pearson, a graduate of that institute, was dispatched. After six months or so spent educating her antipodean pupils she published a cookbook, Cookery Recipes For The People, which she described in the preface as a handbook of “plain wholesome cookery” (Pearson 3). The book ran to three editions and sold more than 13,000 copies. A decade later, Hanna Maclurcan, co-proprietor of the popular Queen’s Hotel in Townsville, published Mrs Maclurcan’s Cookery Book: A Collection of Practical Recipes, Specially Suitable for Australia. A review of this work in the Brisbane Courier described it, positively, as a book of “good plain cooking”. Maclurcan had gained some renown as a cook after the Governor of Queensland, Lord Lamington, publicly praised the meals he had eaten at the Queen’s as “exceptionally good and above the average of Australian hotels” (Morning Bulletin 5). The first print run of Mrs Maclurcan’s Cookery Book sold out in weeks, and a second edition was swiftly produced. By 1903 there were 26,000 copies of Maclurcan’s book in print—one of which was deposited in the library of Queen Victoria. While the existence of any particular cookbook does not constitute evidence that any person ever reproduced a recipe from it, the not immodest sales enjoyed by Pearson and Maclurcan can, at the least, be taken to indicate a popular interest in the style of cookery, that is “plain cookery”, delineated in their respective works. If those who bought these books never actually turned them into working copies—that is, cooked from them—they likely aspired to do so. Practical classes in plain cookery were also popular in Australia in the latter part of the nineteenth century. The adjectival coupling of the word “plain” to “cookery” in colonial Australia can be seen then to have formed an appealing duet at that time If a modern author or reviewer described the body of recipes encapsulated in a cookbook as “plain cookery”, it would not serve to recommend it to the contemporary market—indeed it would likely condemn such a publication to pulping, rather than sales of many thousands—as the term would be understood by most modern cooks, and eaters, to describe food that was dull and lacking in flavour and cosmopolitan appeal. We now prefer cookery books that offer instruction on the preparation of dishes that are described as “exotic”, “global”, “ethnic”, “seasonal”, “local”, and “full of flavour”, and that lend those that prepare and consume the dishes they contain the “glamour of culinary ethnicity” (Appadurai 10). It would seem to be stating the obvious then to say that “plain cookery” meant something entirely different to colonial Australians, except that modern Australians commonly believe that their nineteenth century brethren ate an “abominable”, “monotonous”, “low standard” diet (Santich, The High and The Low 37), and therefore if they preferred their meals to be plain cooked, that these would have been exactly as our present-day interpretation would have them. Yet Pearson describes plain cookery as an “art” (3), arguably a rhetorical epithet, but she was a zealous educator and would not have used such a term to describe a style of cookery that she expected to turn out low quality dishes that were vile and dull. What Pearson and Maclurcan actually present in their respective books is English cookery: which was also known as plain cookery. The Anglo-Celtic population of Australia in the nineteenth century held varied opinions—ranging from obsequious to hateful—about England, depending on their background. The majority, however, considered it their natural home—including many who were colonial born—and the cultural model they reproduced, with local modifications, was that of the “mother country” (Abbott 10) some 10,000 long miles away. English political, legal, economic, and social systems were the foundation of white Australian society. In keeping with this, colonial cooks “perpetuated an English style of cookery, English food values, [and] an English meal structure” (Santich, Looking for Flavour 6) and English cookbooks were the models that colonial cooks and cookery writers drew upon. When Polly, the heroine of Henry Handel Richardson’s novel The Fortunes of Richard Mahoney, teaches herself to make pastry from a cookbook in her rudimentary kitchen on the Victorian goldfields circa 1853, historical accuracy requires her to have employed an imported publication to guide her. It was another decade before the first Australian cookbook, Edward Abbott’s The English And Australian Cookery Book, was published in 1864. Prior to the appearance of Abbott’s work, colonial cooks wanting the guidance of a culinary manual were reliant on the imported English titles stocked by Australian booksellers, such as Eliza Acton’s Modern Cookery for Private Families, Beeton’s Book of Household Management and William Kitchiner’s The Cook’s Oracle. These three particular cookbooks were amongst the most successful and influential works in the nineteenth century Anglo-sphere and were commonly considered as manuals of plain cookery: Acton’s particular work is also the source of the most commonly quoted definition of “plain cookery” as “the principles of roasting, boiling, stewing and baking” (Acton 167) and I am going let it stand as the model of such in this piece. If a curt literary catalogue, such as that used by Acton to delineate plain cookery, were used to describe any cuisine it would serve to make it seem austere, and the reputation of English food and cookery has likely suffered from a face value acceptance of it (and by association so has its Australian culinary doppelganger). A considered inspection of Acton’s work shows that her instructions for the plain methods of roasting, boiling, and stewing of food, cover 13 pages, followed by more than 100 pages of recipes for 19 different varieties of meat, poultry, and game that are further divided into numerous variant cuts. Three pages were dedicated to instruction for boiling potatoes properly. When preparing any of these dishes she enjoins her readers to follow the “slow methods of cooking recommended” (167) to ensure a superior end product. The principles of baking were elucidated across several chapters, taking under this classification the preparation of various types of pastry and a multitude of baked puddings, cakes and biscuits: all prepared from base ingredients—not a packet harmed in their production. We now venerate the taste of so-called “slow cooked” food, so to discover that this was the method prescribed for producing plain cooked dishes suggests that plain cookery potentially had more flavour than we imagine. Acton’s work also challenges the charge that the product of plain cookery was monotonous. We have developed a view that we must have a multitudinous array of different types of food available, all year round, for it to be satisfactory to us. Acton demonstrates that variety in cookery can be achieved in other ways such as in types and cuts of meat, and that “plain” was not necessarily synonymous with sameness. The celebrated twentieth century English food writer Elizabeth David says that Modern Cookery was the “most admired and copied English cookery book of the nineteenth century” (305). As the aspiration of most colonial cooks was the reproduction of English cookery it is not unreasonable to expect that Acton’s work might have had some influence on those that wrote cookery manuals for them. We know that Edward Abbott borrowed from her as he writes in his introduction that he has combined “the advantages of Acton’s work” (5) into this own. Neither Pearson or Maclurcan acknowledge any influence at all upon their works but their respective manuals are not particularly original in content—with the exception of some unique regional recipes in Maclurcan—and they must have drawn upon other cookery manuals of the same style to develop their repertoire. By the time they were writing, “large portions [of Acton’s] volume [had] been appropriated [by] contemporary [cookbook] authors [such as Abbott] without the slightest acknowledgment” (Acton 4): the famous Mrs. Beeton is generally considered to have borrowed heavily from Acton for the cookery section of her successful tome Household Management. If Pearson and Maclurcan did not draw directly on Acton—and they well might have—then they likely used culinary sources that had subsumed her influence as their inspiration. What was considered to constitute plain cookery was not as straightforward as Acton’s definition; it was also “generally understood” to be free of any French influence (David 35). It was a commonly held suspicion amongst nineteenth century English men and women that Gallic cooks employed sauces and strong flavourings such as garlic and other “low and treacherous devices” (Saunders 4), to disguise the fact that they had such poor quality ingredients to work with. On the other hand, the English “had such faith” in the superior quality of their native produce that they considered it only required treatment with plain cookery techniques to be rendered toothsome: this culinary Francophobia persisted in the colonies. In the novel, The Three Miss Kings, set in Melbourne in 1880, the trio of the title take lodgings with a landlady, who informs them from the outset that she is “only a plain cook, and can’t make them French things which spile [sic] the stomach” (Cambridge 36). While a good plain cook might have defined herself by the absence of any Gallic, or indeed any other “foreign”, influence in the meals she created, there had been a significant absorption of elements of both of these in the plain cookery she practised, but these had become so far embedded in English cookery that she was unaware of it. A telling example of this is the unremarked inclusion of curry in the plain cookery cannon. While the name and homogenised form of this dish is of British invention, it retained the varied spices, including pungent chillies, of the Indian cuisine it simulated. Pearson and Maclurcan, and Abbott, all included recipes for curries and curried dishes in their respective cookery books. Over time, plain cookery seems to have become conflated with “plain food”, but the latter was not necessarily the result of the former. There was little of Pearson’s “art” involved in creating plain food, except perhaps an ability to keep this style of food so flavourless and dull that it offered neither pleasure nor temptation to eat any more than that required to sustain life. This very real plainness was actively sought by some as “plain food was synonymous with moral rectitude […] and the plainer the food the more virtuous the eater” (Santich, Looking 28). A common societal appreciation of moral virtue is barely perceptible in modern Australian society but it was an attribute that was greatly valued in the nineteenth century Anglo-world and the consumption of plain food a necessary practice in the achievement of good character. (Our modern habit of labelling of foods “good” or “bad” shows that we continue to imbue food with moral overtones.) The list of “gustatory temptations” “proscribed by the plain food lobby” included “salt, spices, sauces and any flavourings that might have cheered the senses” (Santich, Looking 28). If this were the case then both Pearson and Maclurcan’s cookbooks would have dramatically failed to qualify as manuals of plain food. The recipes contained in their respective works feature a much greater use of components associated with flavour enhancement than we imagine to have been employed in plain cookery, particularly if we erroneously believe it to be analogous to plain food. Spices are used extensively in sweet and savoury dishes, as are various fresh green herbs and lemon juice and rind; homemade condiments such as mushroom ketchup (a type of essence pressed from a seasonal abundance of fungi), and a liberal employment of sherry, port, Madeira, and brandy that a “virtuous” plain food advocate would have considered most intemperate. Pearson and Maclurcan both give instructions for preparing rich stocks and gravies drawn from meat, bones and aromatic vegetables, and prescribe the end product of this process as the foundation for a variety of soups, sauces, and stews. Recipes are given for a greater diversity of vegetables than the stereotyped cabbage and potatoes of colonial culinary legend. Maclurcan displays a distinct tropical regionalism in her book providing recipes that use green bananas and pawpaw as vegetables, alongside other exotic species—for that time—such as eggplant, choko, mango, granadilla, passionfruit, rosella, prickly pear, and guava. Her distinct location, the coastal city of Townsville, is also reflected in the extensive selection of recipes for local species of fish and seafood such as beche-de-mer, prawns, and barramundi, which won Maclurcan a reputation as an expert on seafood. Ultimately, to gain a respectably informed understanding as to the taste, aroma, and texture of the plain cookery presented in the respective works of Pearson and Maclurcan one needs to prepare their recipes: I have done so, reproducing a wide selection of dishes from both books. Admittedly, I am a professionally trained cook with the skills to execute recipes to a high standard, but my practice is to scrupulously maintain the original listing of ingredients in the reproduction and follow the method as best I can. Through this practice I have made some delicious discoveries, which have helped inform my opinion that some colonial Australians, and perhaps significant numbers of them, must have been eating meals that were a long way from dull, flavourless and monotonous. It has been said that we employ our tongues for the “twin offices of rhetoric and taste” (Jaine 61). Words can exercise a significant influence on how we value the taste of—or actually taste—any particular food or indeed a cuisine. In the case of the popularly held opinion about the unappetizing state of colonial meals, it might be that the absence of rhetoric has contributed to this. Colonial food writers such as Pearson and Maclurcan did not “mince words” (Bannerman 166) and chose to use “plain titling” (David 306) and language that lacked the excessive adjectives and laudatory hyperbole typically employed by modern food writers. Perhaps if Pearson or Maclurcan had indulged in anointing their own works with enthusiastic recommendation and reference to international influences in their recipes, this might have contributed to a more positive impression of the food of our Anglo-Celtic ancestors. As an experiment with this idea I have taken a recipe from Cookery Recipes For The People and reframed its title and description in a modern food writing style. The recipe in question is titled “White Sauce” and Pearson writes that “this sauce will answer well for boiled fowl” (48): hardly language to make the dish sound appealing to the modern cook, and likely to confirm an expectation of plain cookery as tasteless and boring. But what if the recipe remained the same but the words used to describe it were changed, for example: the title to “Salsa Blanca” and the introductory remark to “this luxurious silky sauce infused with eschalot, mace, lemon, and sherry wine is perfect for perking up poached free-range chicken”. How much better might it then taste? References Abbott, Edward. The English And Australian Cookery Book: Cookery For The Many, As Well As The Upper Ten Thousand. London: Sampson Low, Son, & Marston, 1864. Acton, Eliza. Modern Cookery for Private Families. London: Longman, Brown, Green, Longmans, and Roberts, 1858. Appadurai, Arjun. “How to Make a National Cuisine: Cookbooks in Contemporary India”. Comparative Studies in Society and History 30 (1988): 3–24. Bannerman, Colin. A Friend In The Kitchen. Kenthurst NSW: Kangaroo Press, 1996. Brisbane Courier. “Mrs Maclurcan’s Cookery Book: A Collection of Practical Recipes, Specially Suitable for Australia [review].” Brisbane Courier c.1898. [Author’s manuscript collection.] Cambridge, Ada. The Three Miss Kings. London: Virago Press, 1987 (1st pub. Melbourne, 1891). David, Elizabeth. An Omelette and a Glass of Wine. London: Penguin, 1986. Freeman, Sarah. Mutton and Oysters: The Victorians and their Food. London: Victor Golllancz, 1989. Humble, Nicola. Culinary Pleasures. London, Faber & Faber, 2005. Jaine, Tom. “Banquets and Meals”. Pleasures of the Table: Proceedings of the Fifth Symposium of Australian Gastronomy (1991): 61–4. Jones, Shar, and Otto, Kirsten. Colonial Food and Drink 1788-1901. Sydney: Historic Houses Trust of New South Wales, 1985. Hartley, Dorothy. Food in England. London: Macdonald General, 1979. Hughes, Kathryn. The Short Life & Long Times of Mrs Beeton. London: Harper Perennial, 2006. Maclurcah, Hannah. Mrs Maclurcan’s Cookery Book: A Collection of Practical Recipes, Specially Suitable for Australia. Melbourne: George Robertson, 1905 (1st pub. Townsville, 1898). Morning Bulletin. “Gossip.” Morning Bulletin (Rockhampton) 10 May 1898: 5. Pearson, Margaret. Cookery Recipes for the People. Melbourne: Hutchinson, 1888. Richardson, Henry Handel. The Fortunes of Richard Mahony. London: Heinemann, 1954. Santich, Barbara. What the Doctors Ordered: 150 Years of Dietary Advice in Australia. Melbourne: Hyland House, 1995. ---. “The High and the Low: Australian Cuisine in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries”. Journal of Australian Studies 30 (2006): 37–49. ---. Looking For Flavour. Kent Town: Wakefield, 1996 Saunders, Alan. “Why Do We Want An Australian Cuisine?”. Journal of Australian Studies 30 (2006): 1-17. Young, Linda. Middle-Class Culture in the Nineteenth Century: America, Australia and Britain. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmilian, 2002.

IntroductionAustralia is at a particular point in its history where there is a noticeable diaspora of artists and creative practitioners away from the major capitals of Sydney and Melbourne (in particular), driven in no small part by ballooning house prices of the last eight years. This has meant big changes for some regional spaces, and in turn, for the face of Australian cultural life. Regional cultural precincts are forming with tourist flows, funding attention and cultural economies. Likewise, there appears to be growing consciousness in the ‘art centres’ of Melbourne and Sydney of interesting and relevant activities outside their limits. This research draws on my experience as an art practitioner, curator and social researcher in one such region (Castlemaine in Central Victoria), and particularly from a recent interview series I have conducted in collaboration with art space in that region, Wide Open Road Art. In this, 23 regional and city-based artists were asked about the social, economic and local conditions that can and have supported their art practices. Drawing from these conversations and Bourdieu’s ideas around cultural production, the article suggests that authentic, diverse, interesting and disruptive creative practices in Australian cultural life involve the increasingly pressing need for security while existing outside the modern imperative of high consumption; of finding alternative ways to live well while entering into the shared space of cultural production. Indeed, it is argued that often it is the capacity to defy key economic paradigms, for example of ‘rational (economic) self-interest’, that allows creative life to flourish (Bourdieu Field; Ley “Artists”). While regional spaces present new opportunities for this, there are pitfalls and nuances worth exploring.Changes in Regional AustraliaAustralia has long been an urbanising nation. Since Federation our cities have increased from a third to now constituting two-thirds of the country’s total population (Gray and Lawrence 6; ABS), making us one of the most urbanised countries in the world. Indeed, as machines replaced manual labour on farms; as Australia’s manufacturing industry began its decline; and as young people in particular left the country for city universities (Gray and Lawrence), the post-war industrial-economic boom drove this widespread demographic and economic shift. In the 1980s closures of regional town facilities like banks, schools and hospitals propelled widespread belief that regional Australia was in crisis and would be increasingly difficult to sustain (Rentschler, Bridson, and Evans; Gray and Lawrence 2; Barr et al.; ABS). However, the late 1990s and early 21st century saw a turnaround that has been referred to by some as the rise of the ‘sea change’. That is, widespread renewed interest and idealisation of not just coastal areas but anywhere outside the city (Murphy). It was a simultaneous pursuit of “a small ‘a’ alternative lifestyle” and escape from rising living costs in urban areas, especially for the unemployed, single parents and those with disabilities (Murphy). This renewed interest has been sustained. The latest wave, or series of waves, have coincided with the post-GFC house price spike, of cheap credit and lenient lending designed to stimulate the economy. This initiative in part led to Sydney and Melbourne median dwelling prices rising by up to 114% in eight years (Scutt 2017), which alone had a huge influence on who was able to afford to live in city areas and who was not. Rapid population increases and diminished social networks and familial support are also considered drivers that sent a wave of people (a million since 2011) towards the outer fringes of the cities and to ‘commuter belt’ country towns (Docherty; Murphy). While the underprivileged are clearly most disadvantaged in what has actually been a global development process (see Jayne on this, and on the city as a consumer itself), artists and creatives are also a unique category who haven’t fared well with hyper-urbanisation (Ley “Artists”). Despite the class privilege that often accompanies such a career choice, the economic disadvantage art professions often involve has seen a diaspora of artists moving to regional areas, particularly those in the hinterlands around and train lines to major centres. We see the recent ‘rise of a regional bohemia’ (Regional Australia Institute): towns like Toowoomba, Byron Bay, Surf Coast, Gold Coast-Tweed, Kangaroo Valley, Wollongong, Warburton, Bendigo, Tooyday, New Norfolk, and countless more being re-identified as arts towns and precincts. In Australia in 2016–17, 1 in 6 professional artists, and 1 in 4 visual artists, were living in a regional town (Throsby and Petetskaya). Creative arts in regional Australia makes up a quarter of the nation’s creative output and is a $2.8 billion industry; and our regions particularly draw in creative practitioners in their prime productive years (aged 24 to 44) (Regional Australia Institute).WORA Conservation SeriesIn 2018 artist and curator Helen Mathwin and myself received a local shire grant to record a conversation series with 23 artists who were based in the Central Goldfields region of Victoria as well as further afield, but who had a connection to the regional arts space we run, WideOpenRoadArt (WORA). In videoed, in-depth, approximately hour-long, semi-structured interviews conducted throughout 2018, we spoke to artists (16 women and 7 men) about the relocation phenomenon we were witnessing in our own growing arts town. Most were interviewed in WORA’s roving art float, but we seized any ad hoc opportunity we had to have genuine discussions with people. Focal points were around sustainability of practice and the social conditions that supported artists’ professional pursuits. This included accessing an arts community, circles of cultural production, and the ‘art centre’; the capacity to exhibit; but also, social factors such as affordable housing and the ability to live on a low-income while having dependants; and so on. The conversations were rich with lived experiences and insights on these issues.Financial ImperativesIn line with the discussion above, the most prominent factor we noticed in the interviews was the inescapable importance of being able to live cheaply. The consistent message that all of the interviewees, both regional- and city-based, conveyed was that a career in art-making required an important independence from the need to earn a substantial income. One interviewee commented: “I do run my art as a business, I have an ABN […] it makes a healthy loss! I don’t think I’ve ever made a profit […].” Another put it: “now that I’m in [this] town and I have a house and stuff I do feel like there is maybe a bit more security around those daily things that will hopefully give me space to [make artworks].”Much has been said on the pervasive inability to monetise art careers, notably Bourdieu’s observations that art exists on an interdependent field of cultural capital, determining for itself an autonomous conception of value separate to economics (Bourdieu, Field 39). This is somewhat similar to the idea of art as a sacred phenomenon irreducible to dollar terms (Abbing 38; see also Benjamin’s “aura”; “The Work of Art”). Art’s difficult relationship with commodification is part of its heroism that Benjamin described (Benjamin Charles Baudelaire 79), its potential to sanctify mainstream society by staying separate to the lowly aspirations of commerce (Ley “Artists” 2529). However, it is understood, artists still need to attain professional education and capacities, yet they remain at the bottom of the income ladder not only professionally, but in the case of visual artists, they remain at the bottom of the creative income hierarchies as well. Further to this, within visual arts, only a tiny proportion achieve financially backed success (Menger 277). “Artistic labour markets are characterised by high risk of failure, excess supply of recruits, low artistic income level, skewed income distribution and multiple jobholding” (Mangset, Torvik Heian, Kleppe, and Løyland; Menger). Mangset et al. point to ideas that have long surrounded the “charismatic artist myth,” of a quasi-metaphysical calling to be an artist that can lead one to overlook the profession’s vast pitfalls in terms of economic sustainability. One interviewee described it as follows: “From a very young age I wanted to be an artist […] so there’s never been a time that I’ve thought that’s not what I’m doing.” A 1% rule seems widely acknowledged in how the profession manages the financial winners against those who miss out; the tiny proportion of megastar artists versus a vast struggling remainder.As even successful artists often dip below the poverty line between paid engagements, housing costs can make the difference between being able to live in an area and not (Turnbull and Whitford). One artist described:[the reason we moved here from Melbourne] was financial, yes definitely. We wouldn’t have been able to purchase a property […] in Melbourne, we would not have been able to live in place that we wanted to live, and to do what we wanted to do […]. It was never an option for us to get a big mortgage.Another said:It partly came about as a financial practicality to move out here. My partner […] wanted to be in the bush, but I was resistant at first, we were in Melbourne but we just couldn’t afford Melbourne in the end, we had an apartment, we had a studio. My partner was a cabinet maker then. You know, just every month all our money went to rent and we just couldn’t manage anymore. So we thought, well maybe if we come out to the bush […] It was just by a happy accident that we found a property […] that we could afford, that was off-grid so it cut the bills down for us [...] that had a little studio and already had a little cottage on there that we could rent that out to get money.For a prominent artist we spoke to this issue was starkly reflected. Despite large exhibitions at some of the highest profile galleries in regional Victoria, the commissions offered for these shows were so insubstantial that the artist and their family had to take on staggering sums of personal debt to execute the ambitious and critically acclaimed shows. Another very successful artist we interviewed who had shown widely at ‘A-list’ international arts institutions and received several substantial grants, spoke of their dismay and pessimism at the idea of financial survival. For all artists we spoke to, pursuing their arts practice was in constant tension with economic imperatives, and their lives had all been shaped by the need to make shrewd decisions to continue practising. There were two artists out of the 23 we interviewed who considered their artwork able to provide full-time income, although this still relied on living costs remaining extremely low. “We are very lucky to have bought a very cheap property [in the country] that I can [also] have my workshop on, so I’m not paying for two properties in Melbourne […] So that certainly takes a fair bit of pressure off financially.” Their co-interviewee described this as “pretty luxurious!” Notably, the two who thought they could live off their art practices were both men, mid-career, whose works were large, spectacular festival items, which alongside the artists’ skill and hard work was also a factor in the type of remuneration received.Decongested LivingBeyond more affordable real estate and rental spaces, life outside our cities offers other benefits that have particular relevance to creative practitioners. Opera and festival director Lindy Hume described her move to the NSW South Coast in terms of space to think and be creative. “The abundance of time, space and silence makes living in places like [Hume’s town] ideal for creating new work” (Brown). And certainly, this was a theme that arose frequently in our interviews. Many of our regionally based artists were in part choosing the de-pressurised space of non-metro areas, and also seeking an embedded, daily connection to nature for themselves, their art-making process and their families. In one interview this was described as “dreamtime”. “Some of my more creative moments are out walking in the forest with the dog, that sort of semi-daydreamy thing where your mind is taken away by the place you’re in.”Creative HubsAll of our regional interviewees mentioned the value of the local community, as a general exchange, social support and like-minded connection, but also specifically of an arts community. Whether a tree change by choice or a more reactive move, the diaspora of artists, among others, has led to a type of rural renaissance in certain popular areas. Creative hubs located around the country, often in close proximity to the urban centres, are creating tremendous opportunities to network with other talented people doing interesting things, living in close proximity and often open to cross-fertilisation. One said: “[Castlemaine] is the best place in Australia, it has this insane cultural richness in a tiny town, you can’t go out and not meet people on the street […] For someone who has not had community in their life that is so gorgeous.” Another said:[Being an artist here] is kind of easy! Lots of people around to connect—with […] other artists but also creatively minded people [...] So it means you can just bump into someone from down the street and have an amazing conversation in five minutes about some amazing thing! […] There’s a concentration here that works.With these hubs, regional spaces are entering into a new relevance in the sphere of cultural production. They are generating unique and interesting local creative scenes for people to live amongst or visit, and generating strong local arts economies, tourist economies, and funding opportunities (Rentschler, Bridson, and Evans). Victoria in particular has burgeoned, with tourist flows to its regions increasing 13 per cent in 5 years and generating tourism worth $10 billion (Tourism Victoria). Victoria’s Greater Bendigo is Australia’s most popularly searched tourist destination on Trip Advisor, with tourism increasing 52% in 10 years (Boland). Simultaneously, funding flows have increased to regional zones, as governments seek to promote development outside Australia’s urban centres and are confident in the arts as a key strategy in boosting health, economies and overall wellbeing (see Rentschler, Bridson, and Evans; see also the 2018 Regional Centre for Culture initiative, Boland). The regions are also an increasingly relevant participant in national cultural life (Turnbull and Whitford; Mitchell; Simpson; Woodhead). Opportunities for an openness to productive exchange between regional and metropolitan sites appear to be growing, with regional festivals and art events gaining importance and unique attributes in the consciousness of the arts ‘centre’ (see for example Fairley; Simpson; Farrelly; Woodhead).Difficulties of Regional LocationDespite this, our interviews still brought to light the difficulties and barriers experienced living as a regional artist. For some, living in regional Victoria was an accepted set-back in their ambitions, something to be concealed and counteracted with education in reputable metropolitan art schools or city-based jobs. For others there was difficulty accessing a sympathetic arts community—although arts towns had vibrant cultures, certain types of creativity were preferred (often craft-based and more community-oriented). Practitioners who were active in maintaining their links to a metropolitan art scene voiced more difficulty in fitting in and successfully exhibiting their (often more conceptual or boundary-pushing) work in regional locations.The Gentrification ProblemThe other increasingly obvious issue in the revivification of some non-metropolitan areas is that they can and are already showing signs of being victims of their own success. That is, some regional arts precincts are attracting so many new residents that they are ceasing to be the low-cost, hospitable environments for artists they once were. Geographer David Ley has given attention to this particular pattern of gentrification that trails behind artists (Ley “Artists”). Ley draws from Florida’s ideas of late capitalism’s ascendency of creativity over the brute utilitarianism of the industrial era. This has got to the point that artists and creative professionals have an increasing capacity to shape and generate value in areas of life that were previous overlooked, especially with built environments (2529). Now more than ever, there is the “urbane middle-class” pursuing ‘the swirling milieu of artists, bohemians and immigrants” (Florida) as they create new, desirable landscapes with the “refuse of society” (Benjamin Charles Baudelaire 79; Ley New Middle Class). With Australia’s historic shifts in affordability in our major cities, this pattern that Ley identified in urban built environments can be seen across our states and regions as well.But with gentrification comes increased costs of living, as housing, shops and infrastructure all alter for an affluent consumer-resident. This diminishes what Bourdieu describes as “the suspension and removal of economic necessity” fundamental to the avant-garde (Bourdieu Distinction 54). That is to say, its relief from heavy pressure to materially survive is arguably critical to the reflexive, imaginative, and truly new offerings that art can provide. And as argued earlier, there seems an inbuilt economic irrationality in artmaking as a vocation—of dedicating one’s energy, time and resources to a pursuit that is notoriously impoverishing. But this irrationality may at the same time be critical to setting forth new ideas, perspectives, reflections and disruptions of taken-for-granted social assumptions, and why art is so indispensable in the first place (Bourdieu Field 39; Ley New Middle Class 2531; Weber on irrationality and the Enlightenment Project; also Adorno’s the ‘primitive’ in art). Australia’s cities, like those of most developed nations, increasingly demand we busy ourselves with the high-consumption of modern life that makes certain activities that sit outside this almost impossible. As gentrification unfolds from the metropolis to the regions, Australia faces a new level of far-reaching social inequality that has real consequences for who is able to participate in art-making, where these people can live, and ultimately what kind of diversity of ideas and voices participate in the generation of our national cultural life. ConclusionThe revival of some of Australia’s more popular regional towns has brought new life to some regional areas, particularly in reshaping their identities as cultural hubs worth experiencing, living amongst or supporting their development. Our interviews brought to life the significant benefits artists have experienced in relocating to country towns, whether by choice or necessity, as well as some setbacks. It was clear that economics played a major role in the demographic shift that took place in the area being examined; more specifically, that the general reorientation of social life towards consumption activities are having dramatic spatial consequences that we are currently seeing transform our major centres. The ability of art and creative practices to breathe new life into forgotten and devalued ideas and spaces is a foundational attribute but one that also creates a gentrification problem. Indeed, this is possibly the key drawback to the revivification of certain regional areas, alongside other prejudices and clashes between metro and regional cultures. It is argued that the transformative and redemptive actions art can perform need to involve the modern irrationality of not being transfixed by matters of economic materialism, so as to sit outside taken-for-granted value structures. This emphasises the importance of equality and open access in our spaces and landscapes if we are to pursue a vibrant, diverse and progressive national cultural sphere.ReferencesAbbing, Hans. Why Artists Are Poor: The Exceptional Economy of the Arts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam UP, 2002.Adorno, Theodor. Aesthetic Theory. London: Routledge, 1983.Australian Bureau of Statistics. “Population Growth: Capital City Growth and Development.” 4102.0—Australian Social Trends. 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