Статті в журналах з теми "Plant communities Victoria Nepean"

Connection to centralised regional sewage systems has been too expensive for small-dispersed communities, and these townships have traditionally been serviced by on-site septic tank systems. The conventional on-site system in Australia has consisted of an anaerobic holding tank followed by adsorption trenches. This technique relies heavily on the uptake of nutrients by plants for effective removal of nitrogen and phosphorus from the effluent, and is very seasonal in its efficiency. Hence, as these small communities have grown in size, the environmental effects of the septic tank discharges have become a problem. In locations throughout Australia, such as rural Victoria and along the Hawkesbury-Nepean River, septic tanks are being replaced with the transport of sewage to regional treatment plants. For some isolated communities, this can mean spending $20,000-$40,000/household, as opposed to more common connection prices of $7,000/household. This paper explores some alternative options that might be suitable for these small communities, and attempts to identify solutions that provide acceptable environmental outcomes at lower cost. The types of alternative systems that are assessed in the paper include local treatment systems, separate blackwater and greywater collection and treatment systems both with and without non-potable water recycling, a small township scale treatment plant compared to either existing septic tank systems or pumping to a remote regional treatment facility.The work demonstrated the benefits of a scenario analysis approach for the assessment of a range of alternative systems. It demonstrated that some of the alternatives systems can achieve better than 90% reductions in the discharge of nutrients to the environment at significantly lower cost than removing the wastewater to a remote regional treatment plant. These concepts allow wastewater to be retained within a community allowing for local reuse of treated effluent.

Driven by concerns centred on the potential impacts of new development on the Hawkesbury-Nepean River, the management of effluent from Sewage Treatment Plants is a growing issue for regulators, communities and Sydney Water Corporation. Conventional users of recycled water such as golf courses, parks and on-site uses are making way for more innovative and sustainable approaches. Rouse Hill Recycled Water Plant and the Picton Agricultural Reuse Schemes are two examples where Sydney Water has adopted a different approach to water recycling. With both schemes now in operation, demand for the product has surpassed expectations and has already begun to exceed current availability. Faced with the option of expanding the schemes in the near future, SWC is continuing to look for new ways of providing sustainable water services to the people of Sydney.

We used multivariate methods to investigate the composition and spatial organisation of tundra plant communities in the Wellington Bay region of southeastern Victoria Island (69°N, 106°W). Ordination and classification of sites at an intermediate scale (≈ 1 ha) were conducted using principal components analysis and sums of squares agglomerative clustering on a matrix of standardized chord distances. The findings suggested eight vegetation classes. These communities are described floristically. At this spatial scale, the vegetation showed correspondence to elevation, slope, and thickness of soil, but not to aspect. The spatial patterns of multiple plant species and physical variables (i.e., slope of terrain and thickness of soil) were examined using multiscale ordination and double logarithmic regressions of variance on distance, respectively. Multiscale ordination revealed ever-increasing plant heterogeneity with distance (0.25 – 1600 m) and suggested only weak general patterns at scales ≤ 200 m. Similarly, variance in the physical factors tended to increase continually with distance. Both the vegetation and physical environment thus appeared to be organised on gradients. Key words: Arctic, classification, ordination, spatial scale, tundra.

AbstractThis paper proposes a new objectively-generated vegetation classification for southern and northern Victoria Land (continental Antarctica) based on the floristic composition of the plant communities. The new classification aims to integrate the existing physiognomic classification of the cryptogamic Antarctic tundra, provide useful data on floristic composition and distribution of the vegetation occurring in southern and northern Victoria Land, and develop a suitable tool allowing easy comparison of syntaxa from different locations. Field data from 26 sites along a latitudinal gradient (72°–77°S) were analysed by a hierarchical classification integrated with multivariate statistics, including indirect ecological information (Principal Component Analysis). Similarity of the identified groups was assessed through the Jaccard similarity index. The new classification is compatible with previous ones and is widely applicable to Victoria Land and includes previous classification. This standardized approach relates plant communities to their floristic composition and provides a basis for relating vegetation composition to environmental gradients and to patterns of vegetation dynamics and succession which are still poorly understood in Antarctica.

AbstractThe Jurassic plant fossil record of Gondwana is generally meagre, which renders phytogeographic and palaeoclimatic interpretations difficult to date. Moreover, plant fossil assemblages mainly consist of impressions/compressions with rather limited palaeobiological and palaeoecological significance. We here present a detailed survey of new Early Jurassic plant assemblages from the Pliensbachian Shafer Peak Formation, north Victoria Land, Transantarctic Mountains. Some of the well-preserved fossils yield cuticle. The floras consist of isoetalean lycophytes, sphenophytes, several ferns, bennettitaleans, and conifers. In addition, three distinct kinds of conifer shoots and needles were obtained from bulk macerations. The composition of the plant communities is typical for Jurassic macrofloras of Gondwana, which underscores the general homogeneity of Southern Hemisphere vegetation during the mid-Mesozoic. Altogether, the plant fossil assemblages indicate humid and warm temperate conditions, which is in contrast to recent palaeoclimatic models that predict cool temperate climates for the continental interior of southern Gondwana during the Jurassic. However, there is no evidence for notable soil development or peat accumulation. The environmental conditions were apparently very unstable due to intense volcanic activity that resulted in frequent perturbation of landscape and vegetation, hampering the development of long-lived climax communities. Cuticles of bennettitaleans and conifers show xeromorphic features that may have been beneficial for growth in this volcanic environment.

The Eastern Otway Ranges, Victoria is an area recognised for its significant flora and fauna communities. An area of about 7000 ha, the Anglesea heathlands has been listed on the register of the National Estate. Although symptoms of the plant pathogen Phytophthora cinnamomi have been recorded in the area since the 1970s, the extent of infestation and its effects have not been documented. The aims of this study were to assess the distribution of infestation, identify the relationship of plant infection to site variables and to identify evidence of spread of the pathogen. The presence of P. cinnamomi was assessed at 50 study sites by a visual evaluation of the vegetation, using species such as Xanthorrhoea australis (Austral grass tree) and Isopogon ceratophyllus (horny cone bush) as indicator species. Soil and plant tissues were assayed for the presence of the pathogen by cotyledon baiting and immunoassay methods. Phytophthora cinnamomi was isolated at 76% of the study sites from the floristic communities identified: heathy open forest; heathy woodland I and II; Bald Hills heathland; riparian open forest. There were significantly more diseased sites at lower altitudes. The pathogen is widely spread and causing disease throughout the area, but at present often only in small patches. There is an urgent need for disease management to protect the significant communities. These findings suggest that management actions such as mapping current infestations, closing tracks and implementing vehicle wash-down points are required.

Bryophytic communities in plateau forests of mature Eucalyptus regnans are distributed according to substrate type and microclimate, whereas those in gully rainforests are more catholic. Objective classification of releves indicated the extent to which groupings are shared between these major topographic sites and the degree to which their distribution is mediated by differences in microclimate. Communities on many substrates in E. regnans forests are either seral to a fern floor 'climax' or exhibit pattern and process cycles of regenerative stability.

In the subalpine tract of the Bogong High Plains, cyclical patterns of regeneration occur within open heath and closed heath communities. In the Grevillea australis-Poa hiemata open grassy heath, most Grevillea shrubs are at present mature or senescent. Beneath the foliage of these shrubs, and in their canopy gaps, the dominant replacement species in the herb layer is snowgrass (Poa hiemata), and these shrubs tend to be replaced by snowgrass as they senesce. In the Phebalium squamulosum-Grevillea australis closed heath, both snowgrass and shrubs may occupy the senescent and gap phases of the dominant shrubs. Grazing by free-ranging cattle appears to favour the recolonisation of such gaps by shrubs rather than by Poa. In Prostanthera cuneata closed heath, regeneration in gaps was clearly shrub-dominated, with little establishment of snowgrass. Some shrubs, such as Grevillea, are obligate seed regenerators, whereas Phebalium and Prostanthera are capable of regeneration by both seed and vegetative means, such as root stock and layering stems. The life cycle of the major shrubs, from establishment to death, appears to require 30-50 years.

The habitats of existing populations of Thelymitra epipactoides in Victoria, Australia, are described according to the physical and biotic environments. The orchid is confined to a range of heathland communities usually near the coast. The species seems to prefer the more open, previously disturbed sites within the community. Following a discussion of the particular habitat requirements of T. epipactoides, some guidelines for the conservation management of the species are outlined.

The responses of seedlings of Tristaniopsis laurina and Acmena smithii, two important tree species in riparian warm temperate rainforest communities in Victoria, are investigated in relation to flood disturbances. Freshly germinated A. smithii seedlings had died within 5 weeks of complete waterlogging in the greenhouse, and although the young T. laurina seedlings survived waterlogging for 14 weeks, their growth rate was curtailed. Nine-month-old seedlings of both species were found to be relatively tolerant to waterlogging, forming aerenchymatous surface roots after 40 days of flooding. Neither species suffered leaf abscission or demonstrated any other signs of water stress commonly associated with flood intolerant species. In experiments to determine the resilience of these species to physical flood damage, both species also demonstrated a capacity to regenerate vegetatively following the removal of above ground parts in young seedlings. The heartwood of T. laurina was found to be more decay resistant than that of other species in the field including that of A. smithii. The significance of these results are discussed in relation to other factors examined in earlier papers adding to the understanding of the ecological status of these species within the riparian rainforest communities.

Tristaniopsis laurina and Acmena smithii often form a dominant association in riparian warm temperate rainforest communities in Victoria. The photosynthetic and morphological responses of seedlings of these species to varied light regimes, and the growth responses of seedlings in different nutrient regimes were examined in the laboratory. Acmena smithii was the most shade tolerant, having the lowest light compensation points, dark respiration rates and greater increases in leaf area ratio under low light conditions. Tristaniopsis laurina consistently demonstrated greater maximum rates of leaf photosynthesis at higher photon flux densities. In response to increased nutrients, T. laurina seedlings showed a marked increase in growth and a decrease in root/shoot ratios, while A. smithii demonstrated relatively small growth increases and showed an increase in root/shoot ratios. These results are discussed in relation to the ecological status of these species within the rainforest communities.

The distribution and productivity of mangroves is directly affected by a wide range of climatic drivers, including temperature, frost, rainfall, evaporation and storm activity, which, in turn, influence a suite of secondary drivers, including changes in freshwater run-off and sediment supply, groundwater dynamics and inter-species competitiveness. The highest-latitude expression of mangroves globally is at Millers Landing, Victoria (38°45′S), and because the vigour and productivity of mangroves across much of Victoria is thought to be limited by low winter temperatures and the incidence and severity of frosts, it is likely that mangroves will be among the first plant communities to be affected by climate change in coastal south-eastern Australia. An increase in plant vigour is likely, but there are almost no historical data with which to compare current rates of primary production. An extension of mangroves to higher latitudes on the mainland is impossible because of the geomorphology of the land that lies further to the south. Small-scale changes in distribution, including the progressive encroachment of mangroves into coastal saltmarsh, are likely to be among the clearest indications of the response of mangroves to a warming climate. Increased effort into tracking changes in mangrove vigour, productivity and distribution is clearly warranted.

There has been increasing emphasis on the use of ant communities as indicators of recovery during and after minesite rehabilitation. This study also focuses on ants as indicators of recovery but, in this case, assesses the success of active management of coastal heath vegetation. Remnants of coastal heath near Portland in south-west Victoria are very diverse communities of considerable conservation significance. However, many remnants are suffering a serious loss of plant diversity as they become dominated by the native Coast Wattle Acacia sophorae. In an attempt to reverse these declines, heath dominated by Coast Wattle is being actively managed to encourage natural regeneration of diverse heaths. Monitoring of ant communities has documented this regeneration of the vegetation and has attempted to assess the effectiveness of two different management methods, burning and cutting. Results of pitfall trapping over two years have shown considerable difference in the ant communities of two different intact heath types (the similarity index was a low 0.34). Also clearly illustrated is the detrimental effect that dominance by Coast Wattle has on ant community diversity. The diversity index of intact heath was 0.93 compared to 0.61 and 0.50 for two sites dominated by Coast Wattle. Trapping has also shown improvement in the ant communities following burning or cutting of Coast Wattle. However, our results suggest that complete recovery will require a considerable time and that it is too early to determine the relative effectiveness of different management techniques.

Within the high subalpine tract of the Bogong High Plains there has been a gradual increase in the cover of shrubs over the past 40 years, especially within open heathland and grassland communities. A field trial, using permanent 1 m2 plots, has confirmed that the establishment of shrub seedlings such as Asterolasia trymalioides, Grevillea australis, Phebalium squamulosum and Prostanthera cuneata occurs primarily upon bare ground, and is absent where the cover of vegetation or fixed Poa hiemata litter remains intact. The survival of Poa hiemata seedlings on bare ground is low, except where local shelter is afforded. Disturbances which cause bare ground, including domestic cattle activity, can create microsites suitable for the establishment of shrub seedlings. Shrub establishment and development may be inhibited by cattle trampling, and some palatable shrubs, e.g. Asterolasia and Grevillea, are especially affected. If cattle are removed from previously grazed grassland and heathland sites where shrubs such as Asterolasia and Grevillea have established, the encroachment of such shrubs will be more rapid than on similar sites subject to continued grazing. However, continued cattle activity is unlikely to inhibit the development of non-palatable, vegetatively reproducing shrubs such as Prostanthera cuneata and Phebalium squamulosum within closed heath communities.

A large-scale field experiment was used to investigate the long-term effects of a single application of manure or inorganic fertiliser on microbial communities in the topsoil and subsoil of a cropping field in south-west Victoria. Poultry litter (20 t ha–1) and fertiliser (with equivalent total nutrients to the manure) was either surface broadcast or deep ripped into the subsoil before sowing in 2014. Soil samples were collected from the 0–10 and 25–40cm horizons in each treatment immediately after harvest of the third successive crop in January 2017. Next-generation sequencing of the 16S and ITS rRNA genes was used to characterise the bacterial and fungal communities in the soil. Amendment type and method of placement had a limited effect on soil microbial community structure and diversity, three years after treatments were applied. Fungal communities exhibited weak responses to the poultry litter and fertiliser in comparison to a nil control, but none of the treatments had any detectable effect on bacterial communities. Differences in structure and diversity of microbial communities were overwhelmingly due to their vertical distribution in the soil profile, and not the application of different amendments to the soil by deep ripping or surface broadcasting. The strength and timing of the soil disturbance, plant selection effects and farm management history likely contributed to the lack of measurable response in the soil microbial community.

As part of the National RHD Monitoring and Surveillance Program, an investigation was conducted into the implications of reduced rabbit abundance (as a consequence of rabbit haemorrhagic disease, RHD) for the recovery of degraded woodlands in the Hattah area of north-west Victoria. Both structural and floristic changes were assessed within woodland communities, which are at risk after 140 years of intensive grazing. General recovery in the pasture layer was demonstrated in terms of the improved status of 'decreaser' plant response groups — palatable species. 'Increasers' (weeds) were also found to have benefited in some circumstances but not to the same extent as the decreaser groups. Evidence of structural changes was restricted to increased persistence of sucker regrowth, particularly of cattle bush (Alectryon oleifolius subsp. canescens). No evidence was found of widespread germination of woody seedlings, which is not surprising given the episodic nature of such regeneration events. The interaction of grazers was also investigated by means of a network of grazing exclosures. Less floristic benefit was associated with relatively high kangaroo densities at one location and with stock grazing at another.

The drought tolerances of the warm temperate rainforest species Tristaniopsis laurina and Acmena smithii were examined. Using pressure bomb techniques the tissue water relations of hardened juvenile and adult material were measured. T. laurina showed relatively little physiological drought tolerance in either the juvenile or adult plants, whereas A. smithii showed an increase in physiological drought tolerance in adult plants. Direct observations of droughted hardened 9-month-old seedlings revealed a relatively high leaf conductance in T. laurina seedlings with wilting becoming generalised after 9 days of droughting. All T. laurina plants rehydrated after 15 days of drought survived albeit with significant leaf abscission, but only 2 of the 5 plants rehydrated after 20 days of drought recovered and these were defoliated. Stomatal resistances were higher in droughted A. smithii seedlings and wilting did not become generalised until after 14 days of droughting. All A. smithii plants recovered when rehydrated after 20 days of droughting with little or no sign of leaf abscission. Leaves of T. laurina and A. smithii became scorched when subjected to temperatures of 50°C and 60°C respectively. The extent to which these differences delimit the distribution of these species in the relatively dry warm temperate rainforest communities of Gippsland in Victoria is discussed.

It is often assumed that saline coastal wetlands experience environmental conditions so severe that they are largely immune to invasion by exotic plant species. The belief is implicit in many older reviews of threats to mangroves and coastal saltmarshes, where a limited range of vascular plant taxa, often focussing on *Spartina, (throughout the paper an asterisk denotes an introduced (exotic) species as per Carr 2012) have been invoked as the major species of concern. Even though the weed flora of southern Australia is derived largely from agriculture and horticulture, neither of which includes many species tolerant of waterlogged, variably saline environments, a recent assessment of Victorian saline coastal wetlands indicated that exotic plants were the third-most pervasive threat, after land ‘reclamation’ and grazing. Tall wheat grass, *Lophopyrum ponticum (Podp.) A.Love., is one of the most severe and widely distributed weeds of saline coastal wetlands in south-eastern Australia. It is promoted by the agricultural extension arm of the Victorian government as a salt-tolerant pasture grass; however, its broad ecological amplitude and robust life form make it a most serious invader of upper saltmarsh in Victoria. We assessed the effectiveness of different control measures, including slashing and herbicides, for the management of *L. ponticum infestations (and their side effects on saltmarsh communities) in the Western Port region of Victoria. A nominally monocot-specific herbicide widely used to control *Spartina, Fluazifop-P, was ineffective in controlling *L. ponticum. The broad-spectrum systemic herbicide glyphosate was more effective in controlling *L. ponticum, but had undesirable impacts on native plant species. Controlling weeds in coastal wetlands using available herbicides for use near coastal waterways would seem to remain problematic.

The wetland communities intimately associated with groundwater sources in the Australian alps are poorly documented compared with the broader (and more obvious) alpine peatlands. In the present work, we report on the vegetation observed immediately around such sources and the characteristics of the supplying groundwater so as to understand the likely factors controlling the observed vegetation assemblage. Thirty-two groundwater sources were identified across three catchments on the Bogong High Plains, Victoria (Australia), and the vegetation associated with these sources surveyed. Groundwater sources occurred across a range of altitudes (1667–1854 m), independent of aspect, and were hydrologically connected to (upstream of) peatlands. Localised mounding adjacent to the groundwater sources resulted in the formation of pools (‘groundwater source pools’). The vegetation within the pools was dominated by bryophytes, with the aquatic bryophyte Blindia robusta the most common species. The groundwater was deficient in major ions, and similar to rainwater apart from elevated concentrations of CO2 accumulated in the groundwater-recharge process. The high CO2 concentrations, combined with the near-constant temperature conditions provided by sustained groundwater flow, are thought to be likely drivers for the high abundance of B. robusta. Although the relative contributions of rain and snow to aquifer recharge are not fully understood for the Australian Alps, these ecosystems are likely to be vulnerable to the changes in precipitation regime that are predicted under climate-change scenarios.

Aspergillus flavus causes aflatoxin contamination in both cottonseed and corn. Corn-cotton rotations are common in South Texas, where reduced tillage frequently results in long-term residence of corncobs on soil surfaces. Corncobs are colonized by A. flavus either prior to harvest or while in the soil. This study sought to determine the potential of corncobs as sources of inoculum for cotton and corn in South Texas. A. flavus communities in corncob and soil samples were collected during the planting seasons of 2001 to 2003 from 29 fields extending from Calhoun and Victoria Counties in the north to the Rio Grande Valley. In order to assess persistence of A. flavus in corncobs, A. flavus communities in corncobs and soil were contrasted every 2 to 3 months in four fields throughout the 3-year study. To assess seasonal variation, similar contrasts were performed in two fields on a biweekly basis. The results indicate that corncobs are major sources of A. flavus inoculum. Corncobs from the previous season contained, on average, over 190 times more A. flavus propagules than soil from the same field, and 2-year-old corncobs still retained 45 times more propagules than soil. There was no significant difference in the incidence of A. flavus strain S on corncobs and soil. The quantity of A. flavus in corncobs decreased with corncob age (r 2 = 0.54; P = 0.002).

Biological soil crusts are common in many arid and semi-arid regions of the world, including Australia. Crusts alter soil factors including water availability, nutrient content and erosion susceptibility and are likely to both directly and indirectly affect vascular plants. Despite emerging recognition as important ecosystem components, these soil communities are understudied. We describe the morphological composition and distribution of lichens and bryophytes in soil crusts from the northern riverine plains, Victoria, in relation to landscape setting and vegetation type. Sampling was conducted across a geomorphological gradient in three different vegetation types (Callitris glaucophylla woodland, Eucalyptus woodland and red-soil native tussock grassland) with an annual rainfall of ~400 mm. Mean cover of biological soil crust for the study area was 18%, with mosses and crustose and foliose lichens the most conspicuous components. Total cover of biological soil crust increased as bare ground and vascular plant cover increased, and litter cover decreased. As a consequence, cover and morphological composition of biological soil crusts differed in the three vegetation types, with mosses responding differently from lichens and liverworts in relation to the cover of litter, bare ground and vascular plants. Hence, biological soil crusts were a conspicuous component in vegetation where they had not previously been described and may play an important role in regulating the structure and function of these plant communities.

Microbial endolithic communities are the main and most widespread life forms in the coldest and hyper-arid desert of the McMurdo Dry Valleys and other ice-free areas across Victoria Land, Antarctica. There, the lichen-dominated communities are complex and self-supporting assemblages of phototrophic and heterotrophic microorganisms, including bacteria, chlorophytes, and both free-living and lichen-forming fungi living at the edge of their physiological adaptability. In particular, among the free-living fungi, microcolonial, melanized, and anamorphic species are highly recurrent, while a few species were sometimes found to be associated with algae. One of these fungi is of paramount importance for its peculiar traits, i.e., a yeast-like habitus, co-growing with algae and being difficult to propagate in pure culture. In the present study, this taxon is herein described as the new genus Antarctolichenia and its type species is A. onofrii, which represents a transitional group between the free-living and symbiotic lifestyle in Arthoniomycetes. The phylogenetic placement of Antarctolichenia was studied using three rDNA molecular markers and morphological characters were described. In this study, we also reappraise the evolution and the connections linking the lichen-forming and rock-inhabiting lifestyles in the basal lineages of Arthoniomycetes (i.e., Lichenostigmatales) and Dothideomycetes.

The Eastern Otway Ranges, Victoria have highly diverse native mammal communities. Although the Red Fox (Vulpes vulpes) has been recorded in the area the extent of its distribution and effects on native mammals are unclear. The aims of this study were to analyse the diet of the Red Fox in the study area, to compare the diet between seasons and habitats (woodland, forest, heathland) and to assess the diet in the habitat of the New Holland Mouse (Pseudomys novaehollandiae) which is endangered in Victoria. Fox scats collected monthly in each habitat were analysed to determine the composition of the diet and small mammal trapping was carried out in each habitat to determine potential small mammal prey species. Overall, mammals (42%) constituted the highest proportion in the fox scats and sixteen species, including nine native species were recorded. Large-sized native mammals including Swamp Wallaby (Wallabia bicolor) and the Eastern Grey Kangaroo (Macropus giganteus) constituted 60% of the mammal diet category. The occurrence of plant material was significantly different between seasons, being more abundant in winter. There was a significant difference in the frequency of large introduced mammals in the diet between seasons, with consumption being higher in winter. The occurrence of large, native mammalian prey increased from 15% in winter to 47% in autumn. The frequency of occurrence of the major dietary categories (plant material, invertebrates, reptiles, birds, mammals) was similar across habitats. Large introduced mammals occurred in higher proportions in the diet from woodland habitat. Small mammals were more numerous in scats of heathland and scats from the forest contained the highest abundance of medium-sized mammals. There was no evidence of the endangered New Holland Mouse in scats collected from habitat where a population of the species was present.

More than 70% of communities living along Simiyu wetland area are agriculturalists and pastoralists. Physical land degradation and poor nutrient mobility within the soil-plant system have shown a notable impact on agricultural production. Cycling of selected and their impact on agriculture were investigated along Simiyu wetland. Cation Exchange Capacity (CEC) of the soil was studied with respect to soluble cations and selected trace metals. To study the longitudinal and spatial distribution of the selected metals along Simiyu wetland, samples (water, sediments and soil) were taken in three stations along the river namely Bariadi Bridge, Simiyu Bridge and the Simiyu River mouth. Sampling of soil was done at different distances from the river so as to study the flow pattern of the metals and hence to explain the direction of cycling. Sampling was done both inn wet and dry seasons to study the seasonal variation of the metals. Geographical Position System was used to locate the sampling points for soil and water/sediment. Metals Chromium (Cr), Lead (Pb), Zinc (Zn), Coper (Cu), Cadmium (Cd) and Manganese (Mn) analyses were analyzed by atomic absorption spectrophotometer (AAS). High levels of Manganese and Zinc were detected in most samples with different distribution behavior between water and sediments that may reflect difference in solubility of metals in water or possible complex formation of the metals resulting to potentially less solubility of metals, hence retarding their bioavailability to plants low cation exchange capacity. Retarded nutrient mobility in clay soils was observed facilitated by the formation of hard pans resulting to less availability of the nutrients to plants. The study suggests some ways in which farmers can improve soil cation exchange capacity and hence improve agricultural productivity. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.3126/jowe.v6i0.5967 J Wet Eco 2012 (6): 31-43

The native riparian vegetation communities on the Chowilla floodplain in the lower River Murray in South Australia are suffering severe declines in health, particularly the Eucalyptus camaldulensis Dehnh. (red gum) and Eucalyptus largiflorens F.Muell. (black box) communities. The primary cause of the decline is salinisation of the floodplain soils caused by increased rates of groundwater discharge and hence increased movement of salt up into the plant root zone. The salinity is driven by a lack of flooding and rising saline groundwater tables. Rises in the naturally saline groundwater levels are due to the effects of river regulation from Lock 6 and high inflows from regional groundwater levels increased by Lake Victoria to the east. River regulation has also led to reduced frequency and duration of the floods that leach salt from the plant root zone and supply fresh water for transpiration. The frequency of medium-sized floods occurring on Chowilla has been reduced by a factor of three since locking and water extractions were commenced in the 1920s to provide reliable water for urban and agricultural use. The soil salinisation on the floodplain was modelled by using a spatial and temporal model of salt accumulation from groundwater depth, groundwater salinity, soil type and flooding frequency. The derived soil water availability index (WINDS) is used to infer vegetation health and was calibrated against current extent of vegetation health as assessed from fieldwork and satellite image analysis. The modelling work has shown that there is a severe risk to the floodplain vegetation from current flow regimes. This paper estimates that 65% (5658 ha) of the 8600 ha of floodplain trees are affected by soil salinisation matching a field survey of vegetation health in 2003 (Department of Environment and Heritage 2005a), compared with 40% in 1993 (Taylor et al. 1996). Model results show that the best management option for Chowilla is lowering the groundwater down to 2 m below current levels, which predicts an improvement in the health of the floodplain tree species from 35 to 42%.

Phytophthora cinnamomi is a soil-inhabiting ‘water mould’ that is pathogenic to many native plant species in Australia, and has been shown to alter plant species abundance and richness, as well as the structure of vegetation in sclerophyllous vegetation. This study investigated the effects of P. cinnamomi-induced vegetation disturbance and habitat degradation on microhabitat associations of small mammals in a coastal heathland in southern Australia. Seven small mammal species were trapped in a P. cinnamomi-infested heathland community over four years. Trap stations were classified into three disease classes (non-diseased, active disease and post-disease) and structural and floristic aspects of the vegetation were recorded at each station. The mean number of species captured was greatest in non-diseased areas and least in post-disease areas. The total capture frequency of small mammals was lower in post-disease areas except where they were covered by thick stands of tall tea-tree (Leptospermum sp.). Combined small mammal captures were associated with thick vegetation and floristic factors. Captures of Antechinus agilis, Rattus fuscipes, Rattus lutreolus and Sminthopsis leucopus were greatest in non-diseased vegetation and were less frequent in areas of diseased vegetation. A. agilis and R. fuscipes captures were correlated with a floristic factor associated with non-diseased vegetation, while R. lutreolus was associated with structural factors, preferring thick vegetation. The impact on Cercartetus nanus and Isoodon obesulus could not be assessed owing to low captures of these species. Modification of vegetation structure and floristics associated with P. cinnamomi infestation is having a significant impact on the habitat utilised by the small mammal communities in the area. This impact highlights the need to identify and protect those areas that remain free of P. cinnamomi infestation. Continued spread of the pathogen will reduce the area of suitable small-mammal habitat able to support the diverse communities of the eastern Otway Ranges, Victoria, Australia.

Agricultural intensification has led to the dramatic decline of buloke (Allocasuarina luehmannii) and the plant communities it dominates in southern Australia. Conservation of remnant buloke woodlands and revegetation of agricultural land are both required for the persistence and improved ecological function of this threatened community. We examined the effect of proximity of mature buloke trees on early sapling survival, to provide guidelines for revegetation aimed at enhancing degraded remnants. We planted buloke saplings at different distances from the base of remnant mature trees at a site in western Wimmera, Victoria, with and without herbaceous competition. Mature buloke trees altered most soil nutrients (positively), soil water content (negatively) and soil conductivity (positively) at different gradients from the tree base, depending on the factor measured. Mature buloke trees had a strong negative effect on conspecific sapling survival in the first summer after planting in both the presence and absence of an herbaceous understorey, possibly because of the strong effect of trees on soil moisture. Competition from mature buloke was high nearest to the trees (up to 9 m from tree base), but competition from the native understorey also appeared important for saplings in the tree gaps, as evidenced by their improved survival when the understorey was removed. We suggest that to establish buloke saplings in areas where mature trees already occur (i.e. enhancement plantings around isolated paddock trees), planting tubestock outside the canopy of mature buloke is necessary to enhance establishment success.

Landscape-scale fires occur in Australian alpine ecosystems once or twice per century, primarily when ignition, regional drought and severe fire weather coincide. When alpine vegetation does burn, there is considerable variation in landscape flammability and fire severity. Regeneration following extensive fires of 2003 and 2006-07 across the Bogong High Plains is occurring in all plant communities (heathlands, grasslands, herbfields and wetlands). In heathland and grassland, vegetation composition has converged towards the long-unburnt state (> 50 years) eight years post fire. There was little effect of variation in fire severity on patterns of regeneration in heathland. In burnt wetlands, Sphagnum cristatum and other dominant species are regenerating; the cover of obligate seeding ericaceous shrubs two years post-fire was positively related to the cover of Sphagnum. The endangered mammal Burramys parvus is also capable of persisting in the alpine landscape after individual large, landscape fires. We conclude that there is no scientific evidence that these fires necessarily had ‘disastrous’ biodiversity consequences. After extensive landscape fires, the primary management objective should be to allow burnt alpine ecosystems to regenerate with minimal subsequent disturbance. Monitoring ecological change in the coming century will be essential for effective management of both fire and biodiversity in alpine ecosystems in Victoria and elsewhere in Australia.

Regeneration of susceptible species following a major decline in the population and distribution of the pathogen Phytophthora cinnamomi Rands is reported from a reassessment of infested plots in open forest, woodland and heathland of the Grampians. The distribution of P. cinnamomi and changes in the vegetation were measured on quadrats set up in 1976 and 1977 and checked biennially until 1984. In 1995, P. cinnamomi was detected in only 15.6% of the 345 soil and root samples tested and was present in only 28.6% of the infested quadrats compared with 100% of the samples and infested quadrats in all previous assessments. Both the restricted distribution and the isolation of P. cinnamomi from susceptible species without symptoms were evidence of changes in the disease which may have been associated with factors such as a reduced supply of susceptible host roots or an alteration in pathogenicity or in the environment. Changes were recorded in structure and species composition of infested plant communities compared with those that remained pathogen-free, but few recent deaths or dieback symptoms were observed in 1995. On the infested plots, several mature stringybark eucalypts such as Eucalyptus baxteri and E. obliqua had died, and the survivors had reduced crown density and dieback of the major branches. However, regeneration in the form of 8-year-old saplings and young seedlings showed few or no symptoms despite the isolation of P. cinnamomi from the roots. The understorey of infested plots comprised a dense growth of field-resistant plants such as Leptospermum spp. and sedges entwined with dodder laurel, whereas the uninfested plots contained a species-rich heath flora of which 54% were known to be susceptible to P. cinnamomi. Regeneration and continuing survival of 24 susceptible species from 11 different families were recorded as small plants on various infested quadrats. However, 12 susceptible species from 7 different families had failed to regenerate. Pathogen populations may increase with the renewed supply of susceptible roots, but independent of pathogen potential, the emerging susceptible species may not be able to compete effectively against the dense field-resistant understorey in infested plots in order to re-establish the original diverse heathland understorey.

The fires of summer 2003 in south-eastern Australia burnt tens of thousands of hectares of treeless alpine landscape. Here, we examine the environmental impact of these fires, using data from the Bogong High Plains area of Victoria, and the Snowy Mountains region of New South Wales. Historical and biophysical evidence suggests that in Australian alpine environments, extensive fires occur only in periods of extended regional drought, and when severe local fire weather coincides with multiple ignitions in the surrounding montane forests. Dendrochronological evidence indicates that large fires have occurred approximately every 50–100 years over the past 400 years. Post-fire monitoring of vegetation in grasslands and heathlands indicates that most alpine species regenerate rapidly after fire, with >90% of species present 1 year after fire. Some keystone species in some plant communities, however, had not regenerated after 3 years. The responses of alpine fauna to the 2003 fires were variable. The core habitat (closed heathland) of several vulnerable small mammals was extensively burnt. Some mammals experienced substantial falls in populations, others experienced substantial increases. Unburnt patches of vegetation are critical to faunal recovery from fire. There was, however, no evidence of local extinction. We conclude that infrequent extensive fires are a feature of alpine Australia. For both the flora and fauna, there is no quantitative evidence that the 2003 fires were an ecological disaster, and we conclude that the flora and fauna of alpine Australia are highly resilient to infrequent, large, intense fires.

The Late Oligocene to Mid-Miocene (25–13 million years ago) brown coals of the Gippsland Basin in southern Victoria, Australia, were deposited in peat mega-swamps, unlike any in the world at the present day. The swamps preserve a rich botanical suite of macro- and microfossils, many of which can be identified with plant genera and families present today in Australia, New Caledonia, New Zealand and New Guinea. The peat-forming environments also preserve evidence of past burning in the form of micro-charcoal as well as macro-charcoal, the latter being evident as regional lenses or layers of fusinite, generally in coals of the darkest colour termed dark lithotypes. The presence of micro-charcoal in dark and some other lighter lithotypes indicated that fires also burnt locally, although they may have been extinguished before regional-scale burning occurred. It is also feasible that some peat mega-swamp plant communities dominated by rainforest angiosperm plants may have been fire excluders and prevented widespread fires from developing. Pollen and macrofossil evidence is presented of a distinctive southern conifer and angiosperm flora with an open canopy, primarily associated with the darkest coals that formed in the wettest parts of the peat-forming environment. Elsewhere, swamp forests with a large rainforest component grew on swamps raised appreciably above the regional groundwater table in a structural context akin to the ombrogenous peats of tropical coastal Sumatra and Sarawak. These vegetation types were not fire prone, but may have occasionally burnt at a local scale or at forest margins. Evidence is presented for the existence of seasonal climatic conditions that would appear to have facilitated a drying-out of the peat swamps in the warmest months of the year. A mesothermal climate was invoked where mean annual precipitation was at least 1500 mm, and possibly as much as 2000 mm, and mean annual temperatures were ~19°C.

Phytophthora cinnamomi continues to cause devastating disease in Australian native vegetation and consequently the disease is listed by the Federal Government as a process that is threatening Australia’s biodiversity. Although several advances have been made in our understanding of how this soil-borne pathogen interacts with plants and of how we may tackle it in natural systems, our ability to control the disease is limited. The pathogen occurs widely across Australia but the severity of its impact is most evident within ecological communities of the south-west and south-east of the country. A regional impact summary for all states and territories shows the pathogen to be the cause of serious disease in numerous species, a significant number of which are rare and threatened. Many genera of endemic taxa have a high proportion of susceptible species including the iconic genera Banksia, Epacris and Xanthorrhoea. Long-term studies in Victoria have shown limited but probably unsustainable recovery of susceptible vegetation, given current management practices. Management of the disease in conservation reserves is reliant on hygiene, the use of chemicals and restriction of access, and has had only limited effectiveness and not provided complete control. The deleterious impacts of the disease on faunal habitat are reasonably well documented and demonstrate loss of individual animal species and changes in population structure and species abundance. Few plant species are known to be resistant to P. cinnamomi; however, investigations over several years have discovered the mechanisms by which some plants are able to survive infection, including the activation of defence-related genes and signalling pathways, the reinforcement of cell walls and accumulation of toxic metabolites. Manipulation of resistance and resistance-related mechanisms may provide avenues for protection against disease in otherwise susceptible species. Despite the advances made in Phytophthora research in Australia during the past 40 years, there is still much to be done to give land managers the resources to combat this disease. Recent State and Federal initiatives offer the prospect of a growing and broader awareness of the disease and its associated impacts. However, awareness must be translated into action as time is running out for the large number of susceptible, and potentially susceptible, species within vulnerable Australian ecological communities.

The management of community consultation is a critical step in achieving timely Government approval for projects and laying the foundation for sound long-term relationships between local communities and project developers. The benefits of good relationships with local communities will flow on to Government support for the project, employee relations, service from local suppliers, and supportive neighbours. Both Government and project proponents are increasingly recognising the value of public participation in the environmental assessment of projects-it makes good business sense.The Queensland Government guidelines state that an appropriate public participation program is essential to the full conduct of the impact assessment (Department of Family, Youth and Community Care). This paper considers the issues involved in developing an appropriate community consultation program and looks specifically at the program adopted by BHP for the assessment of a proposed ammonium nitrate plant near Moura in Central Queensland. The BHP program was commended by the Department of Family, Youth and Community Care as a best practise example for other similar industrial projects.There is, however, community consultation and community consultation. The ammonium nitrate project was near a town which had suffered serious population decline and associated loss of services and infrastructure standards over the last decade. The town had also recently experienced major trauma as a result of the Moura underground mine tragedy in 1994.The social environment was in marked contrast to the environment of other projects which BHP had recently been involved in, such as the Minerva gas development project near Port Campbell in Victoria. Where the major focus of Minerva community consultation had been to address community concern about the environmental effects of the project and the impact of industrial development on the inherent lifestyle values of the area; the Moura community consultation program focussed on direct impacts on immediate neighbours and water resources, while the broader community debate was about employment opportunity, rebuilding the resources of the local community, and what can we do to make sure this project goes ahead?Whether the community supports industrial development or otherwise, community consultation is still an essential element of project planning. The issues will vary enormously from community to community-the focus will not always be on green issues. The key is to listen generously to the community and respond in a manner that genuinely recognises and addresses its particular issues.

ABSTRACT Ice-free areas of Victoria Land, in Antarctica, are characterized by different terrestrial ecosystems, that are dominated by microorganisms supporting highly adapted communities. Despite the unique conditions of these ecosystems, reports on their bacterial diversity are still fragmentary. From this perspective, 60 samples from 14 localities were analyzed. These localities were distributed in coastal sites with differently developed biological soil crusts, inner sites in the McMurdo Dry Valleys with soils lacking of plant coverage, and a site called Icarus Camp, with a crust developed on a thin locally weathered substrate of the underlying parent granitic-rock. Bacterial diversity was studied through 16S rRNA metabarcoding sequencing. Communities diversity, composition and the abundance and composition of different taxonomic groups were correlated to soil physicochemical characteristics. Firmicutes, Bacteroidetes, Cyanobacteria and Proteobacteria dominated these communities. Most phyla were mainly driven by soil granulometry, an often disregarded parameter and other abiotic parameters. Bacterial composition differed greatly among the three macrohabitats, each having a distinct bacterial profile. Communities within the two main habitats (coastal and inner ones) were well differentiated from each other as well, therefore depending on site-specific physicochemical characteristics. A core community of the whole samples was observed, mainly represented by Firmicutes and Bacteroidetes.

The Black Summer of 2019/2020 saw the forests of southeast Australia go up in flames. The fire season started early, in September 2019, and by March 2020 fires had burned over 12.6 million hectares (Werner and Lyons). The scale and severity of the fires was quickly confirmed by scientists to be “unprecedented globally” (Boer et al.) and attributable to climate change (Nolan et al.).The fires were also a media spectacle, generating months of apocalyptic front-page images and harrowing broadcast footage. Media coverage was particularly preoccupied by the cause of the fires. Media framing of disasters often seeks to attribute blame (Anderson et al.; Ewart and McLean) and, over the course of the fire period, blame for the fires was attributed to climate change in much media coverage. However, as the disaster unfolded, denialist discourses in some media outlets sought to veil this revelation by providing alternative explanations for the fires. Misinformation originating from social media also contributed to this obscuration.In this article, we investigate the extent to which media coverage of the 2019/2020 bushfires functioned both to precipitate a climate change epiphany and also to support refutation of the connection between catastrophic fires and the climate crisis.Environmental Communication and RevelationIn its biblical sense, revelation is both an ending and an opening: it is the apocalyptic end-time and also the “revealing” of this time through stories and images. Environmental communication has always been revelatory, in these dual senses of the word – it is a mode of communication that is tightly bound to crisis; that has long grappled with obfuscation and misinformation; and that disrupts power structures and notions of the status quo as it seeks to reveal what is hidden. Climate change in particular is associated in the popular imagination with apocalypse, and is also a reality that is constantly being “revealed”. Indeed, the narrative of climate change has been “animated by the revelations of science” (McNeish 1045) and presented to the public through “key moments of disclosure and revelation”, or “signal moments”, such as scientist James Hansen’s 1988 US Senate testimony on global warming (Hamblyn 224).Journalism is “at the frontline of environmental communication” (Parham 96) and environmental news, too, is often revelatory in nature – it exposes the problems inherent in the human relationship with the natural world, and it reveals the scientific evidence behind contentious issues such as climate change. Like other environmental communicators, environmental journalists seek to “break through the perceptual paralysis” (Nisbet 44) surrounding climate change, with the dual aim of better informing the public and instigating policy change. Yet leading environmental commentators continually call for “better media coverage” of the planetary crisis (Suzuki), as climate change is repeatedly bumped off the news agenda by stories and events deemed more newsworthy.News coverage of climate-related disasters is often revelatory both in tone and in cultural function. The disasters themselves and the news narratives which communicate them become processes that make visible what is hidden. Because environmental news is “event driven” (Hansen 95), disasters receive far more news coverage than ongoing problems and trends such as climate change itself, or more quietly devastating issues such as species extinction or climate migration. Disasters are also highly visual in nature. Trumbo (269) describes climate change as an issue that is urgent, global in scale, and yet “practically invisible”; in this sense, climate-related disasters become a means of visualising and realising what is otherwise a complex, difficult, abstract, and un-seeable concept.Unsurprisingly, natural disasters are often presented to the public through a film of apocalyptic rhetoric and imagery. Yet natural disasters can be also “revelatory” moments: instances of awakening in which suppressed truths come spectacularly and devastatingly to the surface. Matthewman (9–10) argues that “disasters afford us insights into social reality that ordinarily pass unnoticed. As such, they can be read as modes of disclosure, forms of communication”. Disasters, he continues, can reveal both “our new normal” and “our general existential condition”, bringing “the underbelly of progress into sharp relief”. Similarly, Lukes (1) states that disasters “lift veils”, revealing “what is hidden from view in normal times”. Yet for Lukes, “the revelation tells us nothing new, nothing that we did not already know”, and is instead a forced confronting of that which is known yet difficult to engage with. Lukes’ concern is the “revealing” of poverty and inequality in New Orleans following the impact of Hurricane Katrina, yet climate-related disasters can also make visible what McNeish terms “the dark side effects of industrial civilisation” (1047). The Australian bushfires of 2019/2020 can be read in these terms, primarily because they unveiled the connection between climate change and extreme events. Scorching millions of hectares, with a devastating impact on human and non-human communities, the fires revealed climate change as a physical reality, and—for Australians—as a local issue as well as a global one. As media coverage of the fires unfolded and smoke settled on half the country, the impact of climate change on individual lives, communities, landscapes, native animal and plant species, and well-established cultural practices (such as the summer camping holiday) could be fully and dramatically realised. Even for those Australians not immediately impacted, the effects were lived and felt: in our lungs, and on our skin, a physical revelation that the impacts of climate change are not limited to geographically distant people or as-yet-unborn future generations. For many of us, the summer of fire was a realisation that climate change can no longer be held at arm’s length.“Revelation” also involves a temporal collapse whereby the future is dragged into the present. A revelatory streak of this nature has always existed at the heart of environmental communication and can be traced back at least as far as the environmentalist Rachel Carson, whose 1962 book Silent Spring revealed a bleak, apocalyptic future devoid of wildlife and birdsong. In other words, environmental communication can inspire action for change by exposing the ways in which the comforts and securities of the present are built upon a refusal to engage with the future. This temporal rupture where the future meets the present is particularly characteristic of climate change narratives. It is not surprising, then, that media coverage of the 2019/2020 bushfires addressed not just the immediate loss and devastation but also dread of the future, and the understanding that summer will increasingly hold such threats. Bushfires, Climate Change and the MediaThe link between bushfire risk and climate change generated a flurry of coverage in the Australian media well before the fires started in the spring of 2019. In April that year, a coalition of 23 former fire and emergency services leaders warned that Australia was “unprepared for an escalating climate threat” (Cox). They requested a meeting with the new government, to be elected in May, and better funding for firefighting to face the coming bushfire season. When that meeting was granted, at the end of Australia’s hottest and driest year on record (Doyle) in November 2019, bushfires had already been burning for two months. As the fires burned, the emergency leaders expressed frustration that their warnings had been ignored, claiming they had been “gagged” because “you are not allowed to talk about climate change”. They cited climate change as the key reason why the fire season was lengthening and fires were harder to fight. "If it's not time now to speak about climate and what's driving these events”, they asked, “– when?" (McCubbing).The mediatised uncovering of a bushfire/climate change connection was not strictly a revelation. Recent fires in California, Russia, the Amazon, Greece, and Sweden have all been reported in the media as having been exacerbated by climate change. Australia, however, has long regarded itself as a “fire continent”: a place adapted to fire, whose landscapes invite fire and can recover from it. Bushfires had therefore been considered part of the Australian “normal”. But in the Australian spring of 2019, with fires having started earlier than ever and charring rainforests that did not usually burn, the fire chiefs’ warning of a climate change-induced catastrophic bushfire season seemed prescient. As the fires spread and merged, taking homes, lives, landscapes, and driving people towards the water, revelatory images emerged in the media. Pictures of fire refugees fleeing under dystopian crimson skies, masked against the smoke, were accompanied by headlines like “Apocalypse Now” (Fife-Yeomans) and “Escaping Hell” (The Independent). Reports used words like “terror”, “nightmare” (Smee), “mayhem”, and “Armageddon” (Davidson).In the Australian media, the fire/climate change connection quickly became politicised. The Deputy Prime Minister Michael McCormack interviewed by the ABC, responding to a comment by Greens leader Adam Bandt, said connecting bushfire and climate while the fires raged was “disgraceful” and “disgusting”. People needed help, he said, not “the ravings of some pure enlightened and woke capital city greenies” (Goloubeva and Haydar). Gladys Berejiklian the NSW Premier also described it as “inappropriate” (Baker) and “disappointing” (Fox and Higgins) to talk about climate change at this time. However Carol Sparks, Mayor of bushfire-ravaged Glen Innes in rural NSW, contradicted this stance, telling the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) “Michael McCormack needs to read the science”. Climate change, she said, was “not a political thing” but “scientific fact” (Goloubeva and Haydar).As the fires merged and intensified, so did the media firestorm. Key Australian media became a sparring ground for issue definition, with media predictably split down ideological lines. Public broadcasters the ABC and SBS (Special Broadcasting Service), along with The Age, The Sydney Morning Herald and The Guardian Australia, predominantly framed the catastrophe as wrought by climate change. The Guardian, in an in-depth investigation of climate science and bushfire risk, stated that “despite the political smokescreen” the connection between the fires and global warming was “unequivocal” (Redfearn). The ABC characterised the fires as “a glimpse of the horrors of climate change’s crescendoing impact” (Rose). News outlets owned by Rupert Murdoch’s News Corp Australia, however, actively sought to play down the fires’ seriousness. On 2 January, as front pages of newspapers across the world revealed horrifying fiery images, Murdoch’s Australian ran an upbeat shot of New Year’s Day picnic races as its lead, relegating discussion of the fires to page 4 (Meade). More than simply obscuring the fires’ significance, News Corp media actively sought to convince readers that the fires were not out of the ordinary. For example, as the fires’ magnitude was becoming clear on the last day of 2019, The Australian ran a piece comparing the fires with previous conflagrations, claiming such conditions were “not unprecedented” and the fires were “nothing new” (Johnstone). News Corp’s Sky News also used this frame: “climate alarmists”, “catastrophise”, and “don’t want to look at history”, it stated in a segment comparing the event to past major bushfires (Kenny).As the fires continued into January and February 2020, the refutation of the climate change frame solidified around several themes. Conservative media continued to insist the fires were “normal” for Australia and attributed their severity to a lack of hazard reduction burning, which they blamed on “Greens policies” (Brown and Caisley). They also promoted the argument, espoused by Energy Minister Angus Taylor, that with only “1.3% of global emissions” Australia “could not have meaningful impact” on global warming through emissions reductions, and that top-down climate mitigation pressure from the UN was “doomed to fail” (Lloyd). Foreign media saw the fires in quite different terms. From the outside looking in, the Australian fires were clearly revealed as fuelled by global heating and exacerbated by the Australian government’s climate denialism. Australia was framed as a “notorious climate offender” (Shield) that was—as The New York Times put it—“committing climate suicide” (Flanagan) with its lack of coherent climate policy and its predilection for mining coal. Ouest-France ran a headline reading “High on carbon, rich Australia denies global warming” in which it called Scott Morrison’s position on climate change “incomprehensible” (Guibert). The LA Times called the Australian fires “a climate change warning to its leaders—and ours”, noting how “fossil fuel friendly Morrison” had “gleefully wielded a fist-sized chunk of coal on the floor of parliament in 2017” (Karlik). In the UK, the Independent online ran a front page spread of the fires’ vast smoke plume, with the headline “This is what a climate crisis looks like” (Independent Online), while Australian MP Craig Kelly was called “disgraceful” by an interviewer on Good Morning Britain for denying the fires’ link to climate change (Good Morning Britain).Both in Australia and internationally, deliberate misinformation spread by social media additionally shaped media discourse on the fires. The false revelation that the fires had predominantly been started by arson spread on Twitter under the hashtag #ArsonEmergency. While research has been quick to show that this hashtag was artificially promoted by bots (Weber et al.), this and misinformation like it was also shared and amplified by real Twitter users, and quickly spread into mainstream media in Australia—including Murdoch’s Australian (Ross and Reid)—and internationally. Such misinformation was used to shore up denialist discourses about the fires, and to obscure revelation of the fire/climate change connection. Blame Framing, Public Opinion and the Extent of the Climate Change RevelationAs studies of media coverage of environmental disasters show us, media seek to apportion blame. This blame framing is “accountability work”, undertaken to explain how and why a disaster occurred, with the aim of “scrutinizing the actions of crisis actors, and holding responsible authorities to account” (Anderson et al. 930). In moments of disaster and in their aftermath, “framing contests” (Benford and Snow) can emerge in which some actors, regarding the crisis as an opportunity for change, highlight the systemic issues that have led to the crisis. Other actors, experiencing the crisis as a threat to the status quo, try to attribute the blame to others, and deny the need for policy change. As the Black Summer unfolded, just such a contest took place in Australian media discourse. While Murdoch’s dominant News Corp media sought to protect the status quo, promote conservative politicians’ views, and divert attention from the climate crisis, other Australian and overseas media outlets revealed the fires’ link to climate change and intransigent emissions policy. However, cracks did begin to show in the News Corp stance on climate change during the fires: an internal whistleblower publicly resigned over the media company’s fires coverage, calling it a “misinformation campaign”, and James Murdoch also spoke out about being “disappointed with the ongoing denial of the role of climate change” in reporting the fires (ABC/Reuters).Although media reporting on the environment has long been at the forefront of shaping social understanding of environmental issues, and news maintains a central role in both revealing environmental threats and shaping environmental politics (Lester), during Australia’s Black Summer people were also learning about the fires from lived experience. Polls show that the fires affected 57% of Australians. Even those distant from the catastrophe were, for some time, breathing the most toxic air in the world. This personal experience of disaster revealed a bushfire season that was far outside the normal, and public opinion reflected this. A YouGov Australia Institute poll in January 2020 found that 79% of Australians were concerned about climate change—an increase of 5% from July 2019—and 67% believed climate change was making the bushfires worse (Australia Institute). However, a January 2020 Ipsos poll also found that polarisation along political lines on whether climate change was indeed occurring had increased since 2018, and was at its highest levels since 2014 (Crowe). This may reflect the kind of polarised media landscape that was evident during the fires. A thorough dissection in public discourse of Australia’s unprecedented fire season has been largely eclipsed by the vast coverage of the coronavirus pandemic that so quickly followed it. In May 2020, however, the fires were back in the media, when the Bushfires Royal Commission found that the Black Summer “played out exactly as scientists predicted it would” and that more seasons like it were now “locked in” because of carbon emissions (Hitch). It now remains to be seen whether the revelatory extent of the climate change blame frame that played out in media discourse on the fires will be sufficient to garner meaningful action and policy change—or whether denialist discourses will again obscure climate change revelation and seek to maintain the status quo. References Anderson, Deb, et al. "Fanning the Blame: Media Accountability, Climate and Crisis on the Australian ‘Fire Continent’." 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Kangatarianism is the rather inelegant word coined in the first decade of the twenty-first century to describe an omnivorous diet in which the only meat consumed is that of the kangaroo. First published in the media in 2010 (Barone; Zukerman), the term circulated in Australian environmental and academic circles including the Global Animal conference at the University of Wollongong in July 2011 where I first heard it from members of the Think Tank for Kangaroos (THINKK) group. By June 2017, it had gained enough attention to be named the Oxford English Dictionary’s Australian word of the month (following on from May’s “smashed avo,” another Australian food innovation), but it took the Nine Network reality television series Love Island Australia to raise kangatarian to trending status on social media (Oxford UP). During the first episode, aired in late May 2018, Justin, a concreter and fashion model from Melbourne, declared himself to have previously been a kangatarian as he chatted with fellow contestant, Millie. Vet nurse and animal lover Millie appeared to be shocked by his revelation but was tentatively accepting when Justin explained what kangatarian meant, and justified his choice on the grounds that kangaroo are not farmed. In the social media response, it was clear that eating only the meat of kangaroos as an ethical choice was an entirely new concept to many viewers, with one tweet stating “Kangatarian isn’t a thing”, while others variously labelled the diet brutal, intriguing, or quintessentially Australian (see #kangatarian on Twitter).There is a well developed literature around the arguments for and against eating kangaroo, and why settler Australians tend to be so reluctant to do so (see for example, Probyn; Cawthorn and Hoffman). Here, I will concentrate on the role that ethics play in this food choice by examining how the adoption of kangatarianism can be understood as a bargain struck to help to manage grief in the Anthropocene, and the limitations of that bargain. As Lesley Head has argued, we are living in a time of loss and of grieving, when much that has been taken for granted is becoming unstable, and “we must imagine that drastic changes to everyday life are in the offing” (313). Applying the classic (and contested) model of five stages of grief, first proposed by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her book On Death and Dying in 1969, much of the population of the western world seems to be now experiencing denial, her first stage of loss, while those in the most vulnerable environments have moved on to anger with developed countries for destructive actions in the past and inaction in the present. The next stages (or states) of grieving—bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are likely to be manifested, although not in any predictable sequence, as the grief over current and future losses continues (Haslam).The great expansion of food restrictive diets in the Anthropocene can be interpreted as part of this bargaining state of grieving as individuals attempt to respond to the imperative to reduce their environmental impact but also to limit the degree of change to their own diet required to do so. Meat has long been identified as a key component of an individual’s environmental footprint. From Frances Moore Lappé’s 1971 Diet for a Small Planet through the United Nations’ Food and Agriculture Organisation’s 2006 report Livestock’s Long Shadow to the 2019 report of the EAT–Lancet Commission on Healthy Diets from Sustainable Food Systems, the advice has been consistent: meat consumption should be minimised in, if not eradicated from, the human diet. The EAT–Lancet Commission Report quantified this to less than 28 grams (just under one ounce) of beef, lamb or pork per day (12, 25). For many this would be keenly felt, in terms of how meals are constructed, the sensory experiences associated with eating meat and perceptions of well-being but meat is offered up as a sacrifice to bring about the return of the beloved healthy planet.Rather than accept the advice to cut out meat entirely, those seeking to bargain with the Anthropocene also find other options. This has given rise to a suite of foodways based around restricting meat intake in volume or type. Reducing the amount of commercially produced beef, lamb and pork eaten is one approach, while substituting a meat the production of which has a smaller environmental footprint, most commonly chicken or fish, is another. For those willing to make deeper changes, the meat of free living animals, especially those which are killed accidentally on the roads or for deliberately for environmental management purposes, is another option. Further along this spectrum are the novel protein sources suggested in the Lancet report, including insects, blue-green algae and laboratory-cultured meats.Kangatarianism is another form of this bargain, and is backed by at least half a century of advocacy. The Australian Conservation Foundation made calls to reduce the numbers of other livestock and begin a sustainable harvest of kangaroo for food in 1970 when the sale of kangaroo meat for human consumption was still illegal across the country (Conservation of Kangaroos). The idea was repeated by biologist Gordon Grigg in the late 1980s (Jackson and Vernes 173), and again in the Garnaut Climate Change Review in 2008 (547–48). Kangaroo meat is high in protein and iron, low in fat, and high in healthy polyunsaturated fatty acids and conjugated linoleic acid, and, as these authors showed, has a smaller environmental footprint than beef, lamb, or pork. Kangaroo require less water than cattle, sheep or pigs, and no land is cleared to grow feed for them or give them space to graze. Their paws cause less erosion and compaction of soil than do the hooves of common livestock. They eat less fodder than ruminants and their digestive processes result in lower emissions of the powerful greenhouse gas methane and less solid waste.As Justin of Love Island was aware, kangaroo are not farmed in the sense of being deliberately bred, fed, confined, or treated with hormones, drugs or chemicals, which also adds to their lighter impact on the environment. However, some pastoralists argue that because they cannot prevent kangaroos from accessing the food, water, shelter, and protection from predators they provide for their livestock, they do effectively farm them, although they receive no income from sales of kangaroo meat. This type of light touch farming of kangaroos has a very long history in Australia going back to the continent’s first peopling some 60,000 years ago. Kangaroos were so important to Aboriginal people that a wide range of environments were manipulated to produce their favoured habitats of open grasslands edged by sheltering trees. As Bill Gammage demonstrated, fire was used as a tool to preserve and extend grassy areas, to encourage regrowth which would attract kangaroos and to drive the animals from one patch to another or towards hunters waiting with spears (passim, for example, 58, 72, 76, 93). Gammage and Bruce Pascoe agree that this was a form of animal husbandry in which the kangaroos were drawn to the areas prepared for them for the young grass or, more forcefully, physically directed using nets, brush fences or stone walls. Burnt ground served to contain the animals in place of fencing, and regular harvesting kept numbers from rising to levels which would place pressure on other species (Gammage 79, 281–86; Pascoe 42–43). Contemporary advocates of eating kangaroo have promoted the idea that they should be deliberately co-produced with other livestock instead of being killed to preserve feed and water for sheep and cattle (Ellicott; Wilson 39). Substituting kangaroo for the meat of more environmentally damaging animals would facilitate a reduction in the numbers of cattle and sheep, lessening the harm they do.Most proponents have assumed that their audience is current meat eaters who would substitute kangaroo for the meat of other more environmentally costly animals, but kangatarianism can also emerge from vegetarianism. Wendy Zukerman, who wrote about kangaroo hunting for New Scientist in 2010, was motivated to conduct the research because she was considering becoming an early adopter of kangatarianism as the least environmentally taxing way to counter the longterm anaemia she had developed as a vegetarian. In 2018, George Wilson, honorary professor in the Australian National University’s Fenner School of Environment and Society called for vegetarians to become kangatarians as a means of boosting overall consumption of kangaroo for environmental and economic benefits to rural Australia (39).Given these persuasive environmental arguments, it might be expected that many people would have perceived eating kangaroo instead of other meat as a favourable bargain and taken up the call to become kangatarian. Certainly, there has been widespread interest in trying kangaroo meat. In 1997, only five years after the sale of kangaroo meat for human consumption had been legalised in most states (South Australia did so in 1980), 51% of 500 people surveyed in five capital cities said they had tried kangaroo. However, it had not become a meat of choice with very few found to eat it more than three times a year (Des Purtell and Associates iv). Just over a decade later, a study by Ampt and Owen found an increase to 58% of 1599 Australians surveyed across the country who had tried kangaroo but just 4.7% eating it at least monthly (14). Bryce Appleby, in his study of kangaroo consumption in the home based on interviews with 28 residents of Wollongong in 2010, specifically noted the absence of kangatarians—then a very new concept. A study of 261 Sydney university students in 2014 found that half had tried kangaroo meat and 10% continued to eat it with any regularity. Only two respondents identified themselves as kangatarian (Grant 14–15). Kangaroo meat advocate Michael Archer declared in 2017 that “there’s an awful lot of very, very smart vegetarians [who] have opted for semi vegetarianism and they’re calling themselves ‘kangatarians’, as they’re quite happy to eat kangaroo meat”, but unless there had been a significant change in a few years, the surveys did not bear out his assertion (154).The ethical calculations around eating kangaroo are complicated by factors beyond the strictly environmental. One Tweeter advised Justin: “‘I’m a kangatarian’ isn’t a pickup line, mate”, and certainly the reception of his declaration could have been very cool, especially as it was delivered to a self declared animal warrior (N’Tash Aha). All of the studies of beliefs and practices around the eating of kangaroo have noted a significant minority of Australians who would not consider eating kangaroo based on issues of animal welfare and animal rights. The 1997 study found that 11% were opposed to the idea of eating kangaroo, while in Grant’s 2014 study, 15% were ethically opposed to eating kangaroo meat (Des Purtell and Associates iv; Grant 14–15). Animal ethics complicate the bargains calculated principally on environmental grounds.These ethical concerns work across several registers. One is around the flesh and blood kangaroo as a charismatic native animal unique to Australia and which Australians have an obligation to respect and nurture. Sheep, cattle and pigs have been subject to longterm propaganda campaigns which entrench the idea that they are unattractive and unintelligent, and veil their transition to meat behind euphemistic language and abattoir walls, making it easier to eat them. Kangaroos are still seen as resourceful and graceful animals, and no linguistic tricks shield consumers from the knowledge that it is a roo on their plate. A proposal in 2009 to market a “coat of arms” emu and kangaroo-flavoured potato chip brought complaints to the Advertising Standards Bureau that this was disrespectful to these native animals, although the flavours were to be simulated and the product vegetarian (Black). Coexisting with this high regard to kangaroos is its antithesis. That is, a valuation of them informed by their designation as a pest in the pastoral industry, and the use of the carcasses of those killed to feed dogs and other companion animals. Appleby identified a visceral, disgust response to the idea of eating kangaroo in many of his informants, including both vegetarians who would not consider eating kangaroo because of their commitment to a plant-based diet, and at least one omnivore who would prefer to give up all meat rather than eat kangaroo. While diametrically opposed, the end point of both positions is that kangaroo meat should not be eaten.A second animal ethics stance relates to the imagined kangaroo, a cultural construct which for most urban Australians is much more present in their lives and likely to shape their actions than the living animals. It is behind the rejection of eating an animal which holds such an iconic place in Australian culture: to the dexter on the 1912 national coat of arms; hopping through the Hundred Acre Wood as Kanga and Roo in A.A. Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh children’s books from the 1920s and the Disney movies later made from them; as a boy’s best friend as Skippy the Bush Kangaroo in a fondly remembered 1970s television series; and high in the sky on QANTAS planes. The anthropomorphising of kangaroos permitted the spectacle of the boxing kangaroo from the late nineteenth century. By framing natural kangaroo behaviours as boxing, these exhibitions encouraged an ambiguous understanding of kangaroos as human-like, moving them further from the category of food (Golder and Kirkby). Australian government bodies used this idea of the kangaroo to support food exports to Britain, with kangaroos as cooks or diners rather than ingredients. The Kangaroo Kookery Book of 1932 (see fig. 1 below) portrayed kangaroos as a nuclear family in a suburban kitchen and another official campaign supporting sales of Australian produce in Britain in the 1950s featured a Disney-inspired kangaroo eating apples and chops washed down with wine (“Kangaroo to Be ‘Food Salesman’”). This imagining of kangaroos as human-like has persisted, leading to the opinion expressed in a 2008 focus group, that consuming kangaroo amounted to “‘eating an icon’ … Although they are pests they are still human nature … these are native animals, people and I believe that is a form of cannibalism!” (Ampt and Owen 26). Figure 1: Rather than promoting the eating of kangaroos, the portrayal of kangaroos as a modern suburban family in the Kangaroo Kookery Book (1932) made it unthinkable. (Source: Kangaroo Kookery Book, Director of Australian Trade Publicity, Australia House, London, 1932.)The third layer of ethical objection on the ground of animal welfare is more specific, being directed to the method of killing the kangaroos which become food. Kangaroos are perhaps the only native animals for which state governments set quotas for commercial harvest, on the grounds that they compete with livestock for pasturage and water. In most jurisdictions, commercially harvested kangaroo carcasses can be processed for human consumption, and they are the ones which ultimately appear in supermarket display cases.Kangaroos are killed by professional shooters at night using swivelling spotlights mounted on their vehicles to locate and daze the animals. While clean head shots are the ideal and regulations state that animals should be killed when at rest and without causing “undue agonal struggle”, this is not always achieved and some animals do suffer prolonged deaths (NSW Code of Practice for Kangaroo Meat for Human Consumption). By regulation, the young of any female kangaroo must be killed along with her. While averting a slow death by neglect, this is considered cruel and wasteful. The hunt has drawn international criticism, including from Greenpeace which organised campaigns against the sale of kangaroo meat in Europe in the 1980s, and Viva! which was successful in securing the withdrawal of kangaroo from sale in British supermarkets (“Kangaroo Meat Sales Criticised”). These arguments circulate and influence opinion within Australia.A final animal ethics issue is that what is actually behind the push for greater use of kangaroo meat is not concern for the environment or animal welfare but the quest to turn a profit from these animals. The Kangaroo Industries Association of Australia, formed in 1970 to represent those who dealt in the marsupials’ meat, fur and skins, has been a vocal advocate of eating kangaroo and a sponsor of market research into how it can be made more appealing to the market. The Association argued in 1971 that commercial harvest was part of the intelligent conservation of the kangaroo. They sought minimum size regulations to prevent overharvesting and protect their livelihoods (“Assn. Backs Kangaroo Conservation”). The Association’s current website makes the claim that wild harvested “Australian kangaroo meat is among the healthiest, tastiest and most sustainable red meats in the world” (Kangaroo Industries Association of Australia). That this is intended to initiate a new and less controlled branch of the meat industry for the benefit of hunters and processors, rather than foster a shift from sheep or cattle to kangaroos which might serve farmers and the environment, is the opinion of Dr. Louise Boronyak, of the Centre for Compassionate Conservation at the University of Technology Sydney (Boyle 19).Concerns such as these have meant that kangaroo is most consumed where it is least familiar, with most of the meat for human consumption recovered from culled animals being exported to Europe and Asia. Russia has been the largest export market. There, kangaroo meat is made less strange by blending it with other meats and traditional spices to make processed meats, avoiding objections to its appearance and uncertainty around preparation. With only a low profile as a novelty animal in Russia, there are fewer sentimental concerns about consuming kangaroo, although the additional food miles undermine its environmental credentials. The variable acceptability of kangaroo in more distant markets speaks to the role of culture in determining how patterns of eating are formed and can be shifted, or, as Elspeth Probyn phrased it “how natural entities are transformed into commodities within a context of globalisation and local communities”, underlining the impossibility of any straightforward ethics of eating kangaroo (33, 35).Kangatarianism is a neologism which makes the eating of kangaroo meat something it has not been in the past, a voluntary restriction based on environmental ethics. These environmental benefits are well founded and eating kangaroo can be understood as an Anthropocenic bargain struck to allow the continuation of the consumption of red meat while reducing one’s environmental footprint. Although superficially attractive, the numbers entering into this bargain remain small because environmental ethics cannot be disentangled from animal ethics. The anthropomorphising of the kangaroo and its use as a national symbol coexist with its categorisation as a pest and use of its meat as food for companion animals. Both understandings of kangaroos made their meat uneatable for many Australians. Paired with concerns over how kangaroos are killed and the commercialisation of a native species, kangaroo meat has a very mixed reception despite decades of advocacy for eating its meat in favour of that of more harmed and more harmful introduced species. Given these constraints, kangatarianism is unlikely to become widespread and indeed it should be viewed as at best a temporary exigency. As the climate warms and rainfall becomes more erratic, even animals which have evolved to suit Australian conditions will come under increasing pressure, and humans will need to reach Kübler-Ross’ final state of grief: acceptance. In this case, this would mean acceptance that our needs cannot be placed ahead of those of other animals.ReferencesAmpt, Peter, and Kate Owen. Consumer Attitudes to Kangaroo Meat Products. Canberra: Rural Industries Research and Development Corporation, 2008.Appleby, Bryce. “Skippy the ‘Green’ Kangaroo: Identifying Resistances to Eating Kangaroo in the Home in a Context of Climate Change.” BSc Hons, U of Wollongong, 2010 <http://ro.uow.edu.au/thsci/103>.Archer, Michael. “Zoology on the Table: Plenary Session 4.” Australian Zoologist 39, 1 (2017): 154–60.“Assn. Backs Kangaroo Conservation.” The Beverley Times 26 Feb. 1971: 3. 22 Feb. 2019 <http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article202738733>.Barone, Tayissa. “Kangatarians Jump the Divide.” Sydney Morning Herald 9 Feb. 2010. 13 Apr. 2019 <https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/kangatarians-jump-the-divide-20100209-gdtvd8.html>.Black, Rosemary. “Some Australians Angry over Idea for Kangaroo and Emu-Flavored Potato Chips.” New York Daily News 4 Dec. 2009. 5 Feb. 2019 <https://www.nydailynews.com/life-style/eats/australians-angry-idea-kangaroo-emu-flavored-potato-chips-article-1.431865>.Boyle, Rhianna. “Eating Skippy.” Big Issue Australia 578 11-24 Jan. 2019: 16–19.Cawthorn, Donna-Mareè, and Louwrens C. Hoffman. “Controversial Cuisine: A Global Account of the Demand, Supply and Acceptance of ‘Unconventional’ and ‘Exotic’ Meats.” Meat Science 120 (2016): 26–7.Conservation of Kangaroos. Melbourne: Australian Conservation Foundation, 1970.Des Purtell and Associates. Improving Consumer Perceptions of Kangaroo Products: A Survey and Report. Canberra: Rural Industries Research and Development Corporation, 1997.Ellicott, John. “Little Pay Incentive for Shooters to Join Kangaroo Meat Industry.” The Land 15 Mar. 2018. 28 Mar. 2019 <https://www.theland.com.au/story/5285265/top-roo-shooter-says-harvesting-is-a-low-paid-job/>.Garnaut, Ross. Garnaut Climate Change Review. 2008. 26 Feb. 2019 <http://www.garnautreview.org.au/index.htm>.Gammage, Bill. The Biggest Estate on Earth: How Aborigines Made Australia. Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 2012.Golder, Hilary, and Diane Kirkby. “Mrs. Mayne and Her Boxing Kangaroo: A Married Woman Tests Her Property Rights in Colonial New South Wales.” Law and History Review 21.3 (2003): 585–605.Grant, Elisabeth. “Sustainable Kangaroo Harvesting: Perceptions and Consumption of Kangaroo Meat among University Students in New South Wales.” Independent Study Project (ISP). 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