“It is that range of biodiversity that we must care for - the whole thing - rather than just one or two stars.” - Sir David Attenborough
They say a week in nature can re-ignite your well-being, and a week out in rural NSW has certainly got this kiwi's creative juices flowing.
Moving from New Zealand to Australia for a new job is a big endeavour, but when I joined the NSW Biodiversity Conservation Trust team for a second graduate rotation, I had two whole new skills to learn: not only was the media world new to me, but learning about Australian ecology and biodiversity gave the word resilience a whole new meaning.
When the opportunity to spend a week with the Central West and Western regional delivery team came up, I grabbed it.
My focus switched overnight from learning about how to message and curate a story, to first aid training, health and safety briefings, defensive driving and personal locator beacons.
Moving from the tropical rainforests and alpine tussock of New Zealand to the open skies and fields of central west NSW is about as different as you can go. Wrapping your head around the creatures found in these environs are true cause for a Kiwi’s concern. No one wants to be the new colleague that breaks their ankle trying to run from a green tree snake. There was finesse, likely not that well-presented, in remaining calm and in control in the preparation for a week away in this new landscape.
Emergency contacts were shared, and shared again, my 15kgs of borrowed hiking pants, oversized work shirts, and goofy hats was packed, and I jumped on a tiny REX airplane to land west of the Great Dividing Range.
And here it was, something I knew. Rolling grassy hills, rural roads, grid towns, and one main drag with every type of pub and takeaway food you could ever need. This was just like the rolling grassy hills of my Middle Earth: rural winding roads culminating in a main street where you couldn't walk without some calling out a familiar, "hey". After the big smoke and city lights of Sydney I felt at home.
Even better, I was quickly folded into the arms of my new colleagues and was, after site and safety briefings, spending hours in the sun with one of the organisation's top ecologists for my first ecological survey.
Completely clueless to what I was doing, I helped lay measure and mark survey areas to identify the trees, shrubs, grasses, forbs, fauna and other species present. The work, I learned through repetition, helps inform the state of the land and produces a biodiversity score to assist in assessing the overall application for a conservation agreement.
For each property we visited, I met the owners, and what struck me was the diversity in those wanting to partake in private land conservation: from a sole owner wanting to solidify a revenue stream and create a legacy for her children, to large farming enterprises wanting to diversify for uncertain times.
The last property I visited was owned by a cropping family, who had a hilly area on their property they wanted to protect with a conservation agreement. We got chatting about flying Cessnas and raising children on a large property. They were quick to share with me as much wildlife as they could, and by lunchtime we had spotted several roos and a joey, a sprinting emu, a brown snake, and multiple bird species painting the sky with their bright colours.
What each landholder and colleague shared was boundless, and my observations built over a week.
I learned that bringing your positive energy into a room is tangible and readable. When you're coming into someone's home, business and legacy, discussing change could put you on the back foot. But vulnerability, expertise and curiosity are human and can open doors. You’ll likely also get an invite to share morning tea and a coffee.
It’s the range of biodiversity that we must care for, but also the range of experience. It is not just the one-off beautiful landscapes or the thing that can bring us value to leverage, it’s the interconnectivity of everything working together. One part of the ecosystem does not work without the other being present, protected and thriving.
It’s a message for environmental and social contexts alike.