The showy everlasting is endangered, but a primary school is helping out



The showy everlasting is being grown at Woodlupine Primary School.
Andrew Crawford, Author provided

Leonie Monks, Murdoch University; Alanna Chant, and Andrew Crawford

Western Australia boasts seemingly endless fields of pink, white and yellow everlasting daisies. But while there might seem to be an infinite number, one species in particular is actually endangered. The showy everlasting (or Schoenia filifolia subsp. subulifolia) once grew in the Mid West of WA. Now it is found in just a few spots around the tiny inland town of Mingenew.

But a WA primary school is helping my colleagues and me save the beautiful showy everlasting. With new seed banks, a genetic project and a whole lot of digging, we’re hopeful we can keep this gorgeous native daisy around for the next generation.




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A grower and a shower

The first European to collect the showy everlasting was eminent botanist James Drummond, most likely in the mid-1800s. Initially the species was placed in the Helichrysum family (a group of plants also known as everlastings), but in 1992 botanist Paul Wilson formally described the species based on a specimen collected from Geraldton.

The genus name Schoenia is in honour of the 19th-century eye specialist and botanical illustrator Johannes Schoen, and the species name filifolia refers to its long, slender leaves.

Showy everlastings retain their colour long after they’re picked and dried.
Andrew Crawford, Author provided

Everlastings get their name from the fact that that the flowers hold their colour long after they have been picked and dried. The species is known as the showy everlasting because its large, brightly coloured flowers put on a spectacular show when in bloom.

The showy everlasting is an annual plant, growing around 30cm high, with long narrow leaves. Its bright yellow flowers bloom from August to October. The showy everlasting has two closely related sister species: the more common Schoenia filifolia subsp. filifolia, found throughout the WA Wheatbelt, and Schoenia filifolia subsp. arenicola, which grows around Carnarvon but hasn’t been collected for decades. The main differences between the showy everlasting and its sister species are the much larger flowers and the shape of the base of the flower, which is hemispherical rather than vase-shaped.




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Collections of the showy everlasting housed in the Western Australian Herbarium indicate the species was once more widespread. It’s likely land clearing for farms and infrastructure led to the disappearance of the species from much of its known range.

It was listed as endangered in 2003. At that time the species was found in just three locations. At each of these sites, threats such as chemical drift from nearby agricultural land, grazing by animals, competition from weeds, and increasing soil salinity were all jeopardising the survival of the species.

Unfortunately, by the late 2000s two of these three populations had succumbed to these threats and were lost. However, continued search efforts since then have uncovered two new populations. The showy everlasting is hanging on, but a concerted conservation effort is needed to ensure its survival in the wild.

New populations needed

To ensure the long-term survival of the showy everlasting, we need to establish new populations – a process called translocation.

As an insurance policy, in 2007 seeds were collected and frozen in the Threatened Flora Seed Vault at the Western Australia Seed Centre. In 2015 my colleagues and I used some of these seeds in small-scale translocation trials, successfully getting new plants to grow, flower and seed in three small populations.

Despite this success, we knew the populations would need to be much, much larger and we would need many more populations to ensure persistence of the species. And for that we needed more information about the showy everlasting’s biology, and larger amounts of seed.

Currently a genetic study is underway to look at the difference between the showy everlasting in different locations and its sister species. As part of my PhD study with Murdoch University, I am running a glasshouse experiment to see whether different populations of the showy everlasting can cross and produce viable seed, and whether there are benefits or risks to such crosses.

The initial translocation trials have proved we can successfully establish new populations, but we’re currently limited by the amount of available seed. This is because our trials showed the most efficient way to establish the showy everlasting is by planting seeds directly into the ground. However, this process uses a lot of seeds – more than we have stored in the Seed Vault. Rather than denude the wild populations, we needed a new source.

Fortunately, at this time Andrew Crawford, manager of the Threatened Flora Seed Vault at the Western Australian Seed Centre, was approached by the principal of the Woodlupine Primary School, Trevor Phoebe. He was looking for a meaningful way to involve his students with plant conservation. This led to the establishment of a seed production area at the school which aims to grow and harvest seed of the showy everlasting. The students at the school are involved with planting, monitoring and taking care of the plants, and will help collect the seed when they ripen.




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It is still early days for this project, however early signs are promising. Seedlings have established well and have begun flowering. Seed collection is planned for later in the year.

The seed harvested will be used in the future to boost plant numbers in the existing populations, and to establish new sites, hopefully securing this beautiful species in the wild so that everyone can enjoy the showy everlasting for decades to come.


Do you love native plants? Sign up to The Conversation’s Beating Around the Bush Facebook group.The Conversation

Leonie Monks, Research scientist, Murdoch University; Alanna Chant, Invited User, and Andrew Crawford, Research scientist

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The Albany pitcher plant will straight up eat you (if you’re an ant)



FEED me, Seymour!
Adam Cross, Author provided

Adam Cross, Curtin University

Sign up to the Beating Around the Bush newsletter here, and suggest a plant we should cover at batb@theconversation.edu.au.


On a warm evening in early 1802, Robert Brown sat aboard the HMS Investigator describing several plant specimens collected that day. Brown was the botanist on Captain Matthew Flinders’ expedition, and they had been anchored in King George Sound for nearly a month documenting the remarkable flora of the area.

He keenly awaited the return of their gardener, Peter Good, who had left earlier in search of a curious “pitcher plant” discovered the previous morning by botanical artist Ferdinand Bauer and landscape artist William Westall.




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Unbeknownst to him, in minutes he would be gazing upon a uniquely wondrous plant: Cephalotus follicularis, the Albany pitcher plant.

Named after the southwestern Australian port city around which it occurs, the Albany pitcher plant stands out as an oddity even by the standards of carnivorous plants. The species is instantly recognisable, as it produces distinctive insect-trapping pitcher leaves that sit on the ground almost expectantly waiting for prey.



The Conversation

The toothed mouth and overarching lid of these pitchers look superficially similar to those of the tropical pitcher plants (Nepenthes) and North American pitcher plants (Sarracenia). However, these plants are not related; this similarity is a remarkable example of convergent evolution. The Albany pitcher plant is unique.

C. follicularis is the only species in the genus Cephalotus, which is the only genus within the family Cephalotaceae. Its nearest living relatives are rainforest trees from tropical South America, from which it is separated by some 50 million years. Indeed, it is the only carnivorous plant among the 70,000 species, a quarter of all flowering plants, that make up one of the largest evolutionary plant groups, the rosid clade.




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The Albany pitcher plant is more closely related to cabbages, roses and pumpkins than it is to other pitcher plants.

The Albany pitcher plant only grows in a very small area of Western Australia, and is thought to be an ancient Gondwanan relict from a period when this region was almost tropical. It grows in nutrient-poor soils of coastal swamps and lowlands, where it survives by luring insects into its traps to be digested in a pool of enzymes at the base of each pitcher. Each pitcher bears a lid to prevent rain from diluting the pool of enzymes, with translucent windows to disorient trapped prey and prevent escape.

Interestingly, one species of insect not only survives inside the fluid of the pitchers, but relies on it for survival. The wingless stilt fly Badisis ambulans lays its eggs in the pitchers, and the larvae develop in the pool of pitcher fluid, feeding on captured prey.

The wingless stilt fly lives inside the Albany pitcher plant.
Tony D/Wikimedia, CC BY

These stilt flies live only in the dense vegetation of the swamps inhabited by the Albany pitcher plant. They look more like an ant than a fly, which is probably a deliberate mimicry of the ant Iridomyrmex conifer, the primary prey of the pitcher plant. It is likely that these three species – plant, fly and ant – have co-evolved together over millions of years.

The Albany pitcher plant was probably widespread in the southwest corner of WA before European settlement, and almost 150 populations have been recorded throughout this region. However, the species has declined dramatically over the past century as extensive land has been cleared throughout the southwest for agriculture and urban development.

The Albany pitcher plant now occurs only as small, isolated populations in remnant habitat patches. It is thought that less than 3,000 hectares of habitat suitable for the species now remains in the greater Albany region. Recent survey efforts suggest that fewer than 20 populations of the Albany pitcher plant still exist, and fewer than 5,000 plants remain.

Despite the perilous state of the Albany pitcher plant, it still has no formal conservation status. Indeed, swamps containing the species have been bulldozed for housing development in the past 12 months. But habitat loss and changes to bushfire frequency and water flow are not the only threats to this amazing species. Current projections of a drying climate in the southwest of Western Australia may see the species pushed towards extinction in the coming decades.

Incredibly, the Albany pitcher plant is also at risk from poaching. The species is prized for its horticultural novelty, and unscrupulous individuals dig up plants from the wild either to grow or sell. At one accessible location where the species was known to grow in abundance, every single plant within reach has been removed. At other sites, entire populations have been dug up.




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Without improved conservation measures, and tough penalties for removing this incredible species from its natural habitat, the Albany pitcher plant and its complex web of insect relationships face a potentially dire future.


Sign up to Beating Around the Bush, a series that profiles native plants: part gardening column, part dispatches from country, entirely Australian.The Conversation

Adam Cross, Research Fellow, Curtin University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Built like buildings, boab trees are life-savers with a chequered past



A boab tree in the Kimberley. Boab trees can live for thousands of years and their trunks hollow out as they get older.
Shutterstock

Gregory Moore, University of Melbourne

Sign up to the Beating Around the Bush newsletter here, and suggest a plant we should cover at batb@theconversation.edu.au.


When you are in the northern part of Western Australia, one of nature’s joys is seeing a large boab tree close up, perhaps for the first time.

The boab (Adansonia gregorii) is a native to this part of Australia, but is related to the broader group of species called boababs that live in Madagascar and Africa – but more on that connection later.

Boabs are also called bottle trees, the tree of life, boababs and Australian boababs. Some of the indigenous Australian names include gadawon and larrgadi.

From their iconic swollen trunks, to living up to 2,000 years and the many uses for their “superfood” fruits, here’s what makes boab trees so fascinating.



The Conversation

The ‘upside-down tree’: trunks that save lives and lock up prisoners

While the boab in Australia is not quite as well-documented as the African species, specimens have been recorded at over 1,000 years of age. Some living trees have been estimated to be nearer to 2,000 years old.

And while it’s difficult to age the trees, several specimens of the African species have been dated at 2,000 or more years old.

Australian boabs can grow up to 15 metres tall at maturity and have swollen, attention-grabbing trunks called a caudex, which may be up to five metres in diameter.

The African boab species, A. digitata, can be much taller, at 25 metres high and with a diameter of up to 15 metres.




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In such dry continents, the caudex is a life-saver, often containing water, which was tapped by Indigenous folk. It has been estimated that some of these huge old trees can hold more than 100,000 litres of water in their trunks.

In Africa, these massive trunks have been used as shelters, homes, farm sheds and, more recently, even shops and bars.

Sadly in Australia, legend has it the huge trunks were used to make lock-ups for Indigenous people and other prisoners.

The infamous Boab Prison Tree, just south of Derby in Western Australia, was said to have once held Indigenous prisoners.
Shutterstock

It’s not just the trunk that can stop you in your tracks. The boab has a unique branching structure, one that looks more like a root system than a canopy.

Some locals in Africa will tell you the tree was dropped from heaven to earth and landed upside down. So the African species of boab is sometimes called the upside-down tree.

Boab fruits are ‘superfoods’ and its shell has many uses

A. gregorii, the Australian boab species, has large, attractive white flowers up to 75 millimetres in length. Its round fruits are edible and sought after by birds, mammals and humans. The fruit gives rise to some of the common names for the tree, such as monkey bread tree and dead rat tree. The latter comes from the appearance of older fruits in the canopy looking a bit like … well, dead rats?




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In fact, there’s great interest in fruits from the African species, A. digitata, which are considered a “superfood” because of their high levels of antioxidants, calcium, potassium, magnesium, fibre and vitamin C. It’s assumed many of these traits will be shared by the Australian boab, but there is little research as yet to prove it.

Fruit of the African boab tree fruit are initially covered in velvety fur.
Ton Rulkens/Wikimedia, CC BY-SA

The soft part of the fruit is surrounded by a hard, coconut-like shell that’s initially covered in a velvety fur. The hard shell has been used for cups and bowls, but has also been intricately carved and decorated by Aboriginal artists in Africa and Australia. If the seeds are left inside the fruit as it dries, they can be used for toys like rattles.

On both continents, Aboriginal people have eaten the white powder that surrounds the seeds. The leaves are rich in iron and the pulp from the fruits tastes like cream of tartar.

The Indigenous people of both continents were also well aware of the medicinal uses of the fruits. The bark and leaves of the trees also treat various ailments, but particularly those associated with digestive disorders.




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But at present there is very little modern research on the medicinal and dietary aspects of either the baobab or boab.

How the boab tree got to Australia

One of the mysteries surrounding the boab is how it got to Australia – the Australian species has clear affinities with related species in continental Africa and Madagascar.

A baobab tree, Adansonia digitata, in Tarangire National Park, Tanzania. Its journey from Africa to Australia remains a mystery.
Yoki/Wikimedia, CC BY-SA

There are three intriguing theories.

The first is that all of the boababs originate from the super-continent Gondwana – consisting of Africa, South America, Antarctica, Australia, India and Madagascar – before it fragmented almost 80 million years ago. But A. Gregorii and A. digitata are so similar genetically that, given the millions of years that have elapsed, this theory is now in question.

The second theory comes from recent DNA analysis of the species. It suggests they separated more recently, perhaps only 70,000 years ago, which raises the question, were humans involved in their journey? But did they come to Australia from Africa, or from Australia to Africa? The latter is a less likely scenario given the direction of ocean currents.

And the third theory is that fruits arrived on the Australian shore after an epic ocean voyage from Africa.




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Boabs are usually found in the remote outback of Australia, but in 2008, a large 750-year-old boab was transported from Warmun in the Kimberley to Perth and transplanted in Kings Park.

Transplanting such a large tree is both daunting and fraught, with a high chance of failure, but the deciduousness and growth habit of the boab gave some cause for optimism about a successful outcome. For the reward of having a large old boab growing in Perth, it would be worth it.

After a period of stress, the tree appears to be coming good, reflecting the toughness of the species.

A large, mature boab is a splendid tree of arid Australia that inspires awe in all who experience them close up. They really are a beauty and a bottler of a tree!


Sign up to Beating Around the Bush, a series that profiles native plants: part gardening column, part dispatches from country, entirely Australian.The Conversation

Gregory Moore, Doctor of Botany, University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

How we’re helping the western ground parrot survive climate change



A western ground parrot being released with a GPS tracker fitted.
Alan Danks

Shaun Molloy, Edith Cowan University and Robert Davis, Edith Cowan University

When a threatened species is found only in one small area, conservationists often move some individuals to another suitable habitat. This practice, called “translocation”, makes the whole species less vulnerable to threats.

In the past, this approach has worked really well for some species, but climate change is creating new problems. Will the climate change at that location in the future, and will it remain suitable for the species of interest? On the other hand, some regions might become appropriate for a threatened species.

This fundamental question is important in a rapidly changing climate, yet it has seldom featured when picking new areas for translocations.

Western ground parrots live and nest on the ground, making them very vulnerable to foxes and cats.
Alan Danks/DBCA

Saving the western ground parrot

Our recent research applied climate change modelling to translocation decisions for the critically endangered western ground parrot. This species is now restricted to a single population, with probably fewer than 150 birds, on the south coast of Western Australia.

It is enigmatic, in that it lives and nests entirely on the ground, unlike almost all other parrots except the closely related night parrot. And it is one of the many unique animals that make Australia so distinctive from all other parts of the world. But living on the ground has its drawbacks, as the parrot is very vulnerable to foxes and cats.

Its home near the south coast is particularly vulnerable to the effects of climate change. As southwestern Australia becomes warmer and drier, the risk of fire to the parrot increases.

Understanding potential climate change impacts is essential when selecting reintroduction sites. We developed high-precision species distribution models and used these to investigate the effect of climate change on current and historical distributions, and identify locations that will remain, or become, suitable habitat in the future.

Our findings predict that some of the western ground parrot’s former south coast range will become increasingly unsuitable in the future, so reintroductions there may not be a good idea. Four out of 13 potential release sites are likely to become inhospitable to these threatened birds.

On the other hand, many of the former or future sites are likely to become important refuge habitats as the climate continues to warm, and would make an excellent choice for any translocations or reintroductions.

We have given this information to an expert panel, who will use these predictions identify and prioritise areas for management and translocation.

Researchers have radio tracked a small number of birds to learn more about habitat use and movement patterns.
Allan Burbidge

The parrot in the coal mine

Fire is already a significant threat which, combined with predation by feral cats, may have led to the loss of this species from its former home at Fitzgerald River National Park. Many of these threats act together, so they must all be considered and managed alongside climate change.

What’s more, the western ground parrot may be an important indicator for the fate of many other species it currently (or formerly) shares its range with. These include the western whipbird, noisy scrub-bird, and a carnivorous marsupial, the dibbler.

These species are all likely to face the same threats and may be equally affected by the changing climate. Future studies will attempt to model these species and to assess whether all will benefit from similar management.

Many challenges remain for the western ground parrot, including the possible negative genetic impacts of the current small population size, and the increasing risk of damaging fires in a drying and warming climate.

But locating “future-proofed” sites is giving us some hope we can ensure the long term persistence of this enigmatic species, and the myriad other unusual species that occur in the biodiversity hotspot of southwestern Australia.


The authors would like to thank Allan Burbidge and Sarah Comer from the WA Department of Biodiversity Conservation and Attractions for their invaluable help and guidance in putting together this article.The Conversation

Shaun Molloy, Associate research scientist (Ecology), Edith Cowan University and Robert Davis, Senior Lecturer in Vertebrate Biology, Edith Cowan University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

‘Bright white skeletons’: some Western Australian reefs have the lowest coral cover on record


Corals at Scott Reef in 2012, and at the same site during the 2016 mass bleaching.
James Gilmour/AIMS

James Paton Gilmour, Australian Institute of Marine Science and Rebecca Green, University of Western Australia

Diving on the remote coral reefs in the north of Western Australia during the world’s worst bleaching event in 2016, the first thing I noticed was the heat. It was like diving into a warm bath, with surface temperatures of 34⁰C.

Then I noticed the expanse of bleached colonies. Their bright white skeletons were visible through the translucent tissue following the loss of the algae with which they share a biological relationship. The coral skeletons had not yet eroded and collapsed, a grim reminder of what it looked like just a few months before.

I spent the past 15 years documenting the recovery of these reefs following the first global coral bleaching event in 1998, only to see them devastated again in the third global bleaching event in 2016.




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The WA coral reefs may not be as well known as the Great Barrier Reef, but they’re just as large and diverse. And they too have been affected by cyclones and coral bleaching. Our recent study found many WA reefs now have the lowest coral cover on record.

When my colleague, Rebecca Green, witnessed that mass bleaching for the first time, she asked me how long it would take the reefs to recover.

“Probably not in my lifetime” was my reply – an abrupt but accurate reply considering the previous rate of recovery, future increases in ocean temperatures … and my age.

The worst mass bleaching on record

A similar scene is playing out around the world as researchers document the decline of ecosystems they have spent a lifetime studying.

Our study, published in the journal Coral Reefs, is the first to establish a long-term history of changes in coral cover across eight reef systems, and to document the effects of the 2016 mass bleaching event at 401 sites across WA.




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Given the vast expanse of WA coral reefs, our assessment included data from several monitoring programs and researchers from 19 institutions.

These reefs exist in some of the most remote and inaccessible parts of the
world, so our study also relied on important observations of coral bleaching from regional managers, tourist operators and Bardi Jawi Indigenous Rangers in the Kimberley.

Our aim was to establish the effects of climate change on coral reefs along Western Australia’s vast coastline and their current condition.

The heat stress in 2016 was the worst on record, causing mass bleaching and large reductions in coral cover at Christmas Island, Ashmore Reef and Scott Reef. This was also the first time mass bleaching was recorded in the southern parts of the inshore Kimberley region, including in the long oral history of Indigenous Australians who have managed this sea-country for thousands of years.

The mass bleaching events we documented were triggered by a global increase in temperature of 1⁰C above pre-industrial levels, whereas temperatures are predicted to rise by 1.5⁰C between 2030 and 2052.

In that scenario, the reefs that have bleached badly will unlikely have the capacity to fully recover, and mass bleaching will occur at the reefs that have so far escaped the worst impacts.




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The future of WA’s coral reefs is uncertain, but until carbon emissions can be reduced, coral bleaching will continue to increase.

Surviving coral reef refuges must be protected

The extreme El Niño conditions in 2016 severely affected the northern reefs, and a similar pattern was seen in the long-term records.

The more southern reefs were affected by extreme La Niña conditions – most significantly by a heatwave in 2011 that caused coral bleaching, impacted fisheries and devastated other marine and terrestrial ecosystems.

Since 2010, all of WA’s reefs systems have bleached at least once.

Frequent bleaching and cyclone damage have stalled the recovery of reefs at Shark Bay, Ningaloo and at the Montebello and Barrow Islands. And coral cover at Scott Reef, Ashmore Reef and at Christmas Island is low following the 2016 mass bleaching.

In fact, average coral cover at most (75%) reef systems is at or near the lowest on record. But not all WA reefs have been affected equally.

In 2016 there was little (around 10%) bleaching recorded at the northern inshore Kimberley Reefs, at the Cocos Keeling Islands, and at the Rowley Shoals. Coral cover and diversity at these reefs remain high.

And during mass bleaching there were patches of reef that were less affected by heat stress.

These patches of reef will hopefully escape the worst impacts and retain moderate coral cover and diversity as the world warms, acting as refuges. There are also corals that have adapted to survive in parts of the reef where temperatures are naturally hotter.

Some reefs across WA will persist, thanks to these refuges from heat stress, their ability to adapt and to expand their range. These refuges must be protected from any additional stress, such as poor water quality and overfishing.




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In any case, the longer it takes to curb carbon emissions and other pressures to coral reefs, the greater the loss will be.

Coral reefs support critical food stocks for fisheries around the world and provide a significant contribution to Australia’s Blue Economy, worth an estimated A$68.1 billion.

We are handing environmental uncertainty to the next generation of scientists, and we must better articulate to everyone that their dependence on nature is the most fundamental of all the scientific concepts we explore.The Conversation

James Paton Gilmour, Research Scientist: Coral Ecology, Australian Institute of Marine Science and Rebecca Green, Postdoctoral research associate, University of Western Australia

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

It’s not worth wiping out a species for the Yeelirrie uranium mine


File 20190426 61877 ax136m.jpg?ixlib=rb 1.1
The Western Australian outback may look bare at first glance, but it’s teeming with wildlife, often beneath the surface.
Shutterstock

Gavin Mudd, RMIT University

One day before calling the election, the government approved the controversial Yeelirrie uranium mine in the remote wilderness of Western Australia, about 500km north of Kalgoorlie.

The Tjiwarl Traditional Owners have fought any uranium mining on their land for the last 40 years, and the decision by the government wasn’t made public until the day before Anzac Day.

This region is home to several of Australia’s deposits of uranium and not only holds cultural significance as part of the Seven Sisters Dreaming Songline, but also environmental significance.




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If the mine goes ahead, groundwater levels would drop by 50cm and wouldn’t fully recover for 200 years. And 2,422 hectares of native vegetation would be cleared.

I visited the site 16 years ago and, like the rest of the Western Australian outback, there’s a wonderful paradox where the land appears barren, but is, in fact, rich with biodiversity.

The former pilot open cut at Yeelirrie, February 2003 – unrehabilitated from the early 1980s.
Photo G M Mudd

Native animals living in underground water, called stygofauna, are one such example of remarkable Australian fauna that aren’t obvious at first glance. These animals are under threat of extinction if the Yeelirrie uranium mine goes ahead.

Stygofauna are ecologically fragile

Most stygofauna are very tiny invertebrates, making up species of crustaceans, worms, snails and diving beetles. Some species are well adapted to underground life – they are typically blind, pale white and with long appendages to help them find their way in total darkness.

Yeelirrie stygofauna.
Photograph by Giulia Perina, Subterranean Ecology Pty Ltd

In 2016, the Western Australian Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) advised against building the Yeelirrie uranium mine because it would threaten the stygofauna species there, despite the proposed management strategies of Cameco Australia, the mine owner.

Stygofauna are extremely local, having evolved in the site they’re found in. This means individual species aren’t found anywhere else in the world.

EPA chairman Tom Hatton said:

Despite the proponent’s well-considered management strategies, based on current scientific understanding, the EPA concluded that there was too great a chance of a loss of species that are restricted to the impact area.

Yeelirrie has a rich stygofauna habitat, with 73 difference species recorded.

A species of stygofauna in Yeelirrie.
Photograph by Giulia Perina, Subterranean Ecology Pty Ltd

And to get to the uranium deposit, the miners need to dig through the groundwater, a little like pulling the plug in the middle of the bathtub. Stygofauna have adapted to living at different levels of the water, so pulling out the plug could dry out important parts of their habitat.

Stygofauna are also susceptible to any changes in the chemistry of the groundwater. We simply do not know with confidence what mining will do to the groundwater chemistry at Yeelirrie in the long term. Various wastes will be backfilled into former pits, causing uncertainty for the welfare of surrounding stygofauna.




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The approval conditions suggest that the mine should not be allowed to cause extinction – but if this does happen, nothing can be done to reverse it. And there would be no penalty to Cameco either – which has said it can’t guarantee such a condition can be met.

So are the economic benefits worth wiping out a species?

Short answer: no. But let’s, for a moment, ignore these subterranean animals and look at whether the mine would be beneficial.

Yeelirrie is one of Australia’s largest uranium deposits – and yet it has a low grade of 0.15% (as uranium oxide). This refers to the amount of uranium found in rock. For comparison, the average grade of uranium mines globally is normally 0.1 to 0.4% of uranium oxide (with some higher and others lower).

And Cameco’s Cigar Lake and McArthur River mines in Canada have typically been 15-20% of uranium oxide. Despite such rich ore, McArthur River was uneconomic and closed indefinitely in early 2018.

What’s more, the future of nuclear power is not bright. According to the World Nuclear Industry Status Report, the number of nuclear reactors under construction around the world is at its lowest point in a decade, as renewable energy increases. The amount of nuclear electricity produced each year is flat. And nuclear’s share of global electricity is constantly falling behind renewables.




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But, in any case, we don’t yet know enough about these stygofauna to warrant their extinction. They could, for instance, have untold benefits to medical science, or perhaps have wider environmental and cultural significance.

And, ethically, what right do we have to wipe out a species? They have evolved and survived just like us. At the end of the day, there are much safer, cheaper, more ethical and cleaner ways to generate electricity to boil a kettle.The Conversation

Gavin Mudd, Associate Professor of Environmental Engineering, RMIT University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

How indigenous expertise improves science: the curious case of shy lizards and deadly cane toads



File 20190408 2901 1tbo2ex.jpg?ixlib=rb 1.1
The Balanggarra Rangers are land management representatives of the Balanggarra people, the indigenous traditional owners of the East Kimberley. (L-R) Wes Alberts, Bob Smith (coordinator) James ‘Birdy’ Birch, Isiah Smith, Quentin Gore.
The Kimberley Land Council, Author provided

Georgia Ward-Fear, University of Sydney and Rick Shine, University of Sydney

It’s a common refrain – western ecologists should work closely with indigenous peoples, who have a unique knowledge of the ecosystems in their traditional lands.

But the rhetoric is strong on passion and weak on evidence.

Now, a project in the remote Kimberley area of northwestern Australia provides hard evidence that collaborating with Indigenous rangers can change the outcome of science from failure to success.




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Fighting a toxic invader

This research had a simple but ambitious aim: to develop new ways to save at-risk predators such as lizards and quolls from the devastating impacts of invasive cane toads.

Cane toads are invasive and highly toxic to Australia’s apex predators.
David Nelson

All across tropical Australia, the arrival of these gigantic alien toads has caused massive die-offs among meat-eating animals such as yellow-spotted monitors (large lizards in the varanid group) and quolls (meat-eating marsupials). Mistaking the new arrivals for edible frogs, animals that try to eat them are fatally poisoned by the toad’s powerful toxins.

Steep population declines in these predators ripple out through entire ecosystems.

But we can change that outcome. We expose predators to a small cane toad, big enough to make them ill but not to kill them. The predators learn fast, and ignore the larger (deadly) toads that arrive in their habitats a few weeks or months later. As a result, our trained predators survive, whereas their untrained siblings die.




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Conservation ‘on Country’

But it’s not easy science. The site is remote and the climate is harsh.

We and our collaborators, the Western Australian Department of Biodiversity, Conservation and Attractions, decided at the outset that we needed to work closely with the Indigenous Traditional Owners of the east Kimberley – the Balanggarra people.

So as we cruised across the floodplain on quad bikes looking for goannas, each team consisted of a scientist (university-educated, and experienced in wildlife research) and a Balanggarra Indigenous ranger.

Although our study species is huge – a male yellow-spotted monitor can grow to more than 1.7 metres in length and weigh more than 6kg – the animals are well-camouflaged and difficult to find.

Over an 18-month study, we caught and radio-tracked more than 80 monitors, taught some of them not to eat toads, and then watched with trepidation as the cane toad invasion arrived.




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Excitingly, the training worked. Half of our trained lizards were still alive by the end of the study, whereas all of the untrained lizards died soon after toads arrived.

That positive result has encouraged a consortium of scientists, government authorities, conservation groups, landowners and local businesses to implement aversion training on a massive scale (see www.canetoadcoalition.com), with support from the Australian Research Council.

A yellow-spotted monitor fitted with a radio transmitter in our study. This medium-sized male was trained and lived for the entirety of the study in high densities of cane toads.
Georgia Ward-Fear, University of Sydney



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Cross-cultural collaboration key to success

But there’s a twist to the tale, a vindication of our decision to make the project truly collaborative.

When we looked in detail at our data, we realised that the monitor lizards found by Indigenous rangers were different to those found by western scientists. The rangers found shyer lizards, often further away from us when sighted, motionless, and in heavy cover where they were very difficult to see.

Gregory Johnson, Balanggarra elder and ranger.
Georgia Ward-Fear

We don’t know how much the extraordinary ability of the rangers to spot those well-concealed lizards was due to genetics or experience – but there’s no doubt they were superb at finding lizards that the scientists simply didn’t notice.

And reflecting the distinctive “personalities” of those ranger-located lizards, they were the ones that benefited the most from aversion training. Taking a cautious approach to life, a nasty illness after eating a small toad was enough to make them swear off toads thereafter.

In contrast, most of the lizards found by scientists were bold creatures. They learned quickly, but when a potential meal hopped across the floodplain a few months later, the goanna seized it before recalling its previous experience. And even holding a toad briefly in the mouth can be fatal.

Comparisons of conditions under which lizards were initially sighted in the field by scientists and Indigenous rangers (a) proximity to lizards in metres (b) density of ground-cover vegetation (>30cm high) surrounding the lizard (c) intensity of light directly on lizard (light or shade) (d) whether the lizard was stationary or moving (i.e. walking or running). Sighting was considered more difficult if lizards were further away, in more dense vegetation, in shade, and stationary.
Georgia Ward-Fear, University of Sydney

As a result of the intersection between indigenous abilities and lizard personalities, the overall success of our project increased as a result of our multicultural team.

If we had just used the conventional model – university researchers doing all of the work, indigenous people asked for permission but playing only a minor role – our project could have failed, and the major conservation initiative currently underway may have died an early death.

So our study, now published in Conservation Letters, provides an unusual insight – backed up by evidence.

Moving beyond lip service, and genuinely involving Indigenous Traditional Owners in conservation research, can make all the difference in the world.

Georgia Ward-Fear (holding a yellow-spotted monitor) with Balanggarra Rangers Herbert and Wesley Alberts.
David Pearson, WA Department of Biodiversity, Conservation and Attractions

This research was published in collaboration with James “Birdy” Birch and his team of Balanggarra rangers in the eastern Kimberley.The Conversation

Georgia Ward-Fear, Post doctoral fellow and Conservation Ecologist , University of Sydney and Rick Shine, Professor in Evolutionary Biology, University of Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.