AUSTRALIA'S DOG FENCE
I had never seen a Fence like this before. A barrier of wire mesh six feet high, older than the Berlin Wall and longer than the Great Wall of china. A Fence so controversial that a nation of people including politicians, conservationists, tax payers and animals lovers accept the reason for it’s existence but question the ecological effect of it’s continuance. I am referring to the wonder of south-east Australia, the “Dog Fence”, all 3,307 miles of it. Snaking across the outback from the cold surf of the Great Australian Bight in the south, all the way to the cotton field of eastern Queensland, this epic Fence exists for only one purpose, to stop dingoes from killing any of the 123 million sheep within it’s boundary. Considering that Australia flourished on the woolly-backs of this £3 billion industry, it is not surprising that the government agree the need for a proper maintenance programme, paid for by a tax levied on woolgrowers.
Travelling along various parts of this wire mesh river in their souped-up four wheel drive vehicles, is an army of bushmen. To call them “shepherds” would conjure up images of solitary, tranquil individuals - and that could not be further from the truth. These woolgrowers are tougher than any ‘spaghetti-western’ cowboy you could image. Their jeans and checked shirts are splattered with the blood of lambs whose tails have been cut off to avoid blowfly infestation. The skin of these bushmen has been baked brown under an endless blue sky and powdered with a dusting of red sand, they scan the Fence through eyes which are half closed against the dust and the strength of the blinding sun. Mile after mile after mile their eyes skim the Fence looking for damage and areas in need of repair. The maintenance of the Fence cannot lapse as one dingo can kill up to 50 sheep and lambs in one night. Not for food, but just because this cousin of the coyote and descendant of the Asian wolf is a ceaseless hunter. Dingoes will chase down anything from red kangaroos and wombats to rabbits and lizards, but they favour the slow, panicky sheep. A small wolf-like creature, the dingo is a leggy dog, with a long muzzle, short pointed ears, and a bushy tail, usually ginger in colour - or so I was told. Because, ironically, the only dingoes in view were the rotting corpses impaled on the Fence. Their scalps removed by independent bounty hunters who can earn from eight pounds for the scalp of a young dingo and up to £200 for a problem dog. This creature, who has inhabited Australia for over 3,000 years coexisting with Aborigine tribes, is officially classed as vermin. As such, it is subject to the most horrendous form of death. Large metal claw traps are set, a sardonic sense of compassion compels the trappers to coat the teeth with strychnine in order to ease the animal’s death. Even though one trapper can kill around 200 dingoes in a year, estimates put todays population at more than a million. Therefore, the need for the Fence is even greater today than when it was started, and that was over 100 years ago by pioneer bushmen travelling with camels. Steel posts are erected in place of the ancient sagging wooden poles, new plastic coated mesh panels replace the rusting old ones, holes made by emus, wild pigs and camels are mended and tunnels dug by burrowing wombats are filled in. The dingo, however, is not responsible for any of the damage to the Fence. He prowls along it’s length, under the dust red sky of evening, yelping and howling at the tempting delights within the Fence’s boundary.
The ongoing battle between the woolgrowers and the dingo has escalated far beyond the protection of sheep. The ‘dog Fence’ has become a terrestrial dam, confusing the natural behaviour of Australia’s indigenous animals. Red and grey kangaroos, the great protected symbol of this continent, having freely penetrated the Fence, are without a native predator and their populations have exploded inside the Fence. They have now become the rivals of sheep, competing for water and grazing land and in response, governments cull more than three million kangaroos a year marketing the meat and hides. Could it be that the economic future for Australia’s biggest export will lie in the cultivation of kangaroo products? And if so, will the Fence be allowed to fall into disrepair or will it’s maintenance be upheld for the protection of the kangaroo instead of the sheep. At this point I will resist the urge to quote any anecdotes concerning ‘woolly jumpers’ but would remind you that no matter how mighty the predatory skills of the dingo, it can never compare with the disruptive influence that man exerts on the environment.
Travelling along various parts of this wire mesh river in their souped-up four wheel drive vehicles, is an army of bushmen. To call them “shepherds” would conjure up images of solitary, tranquil individuals - and that could not be further from the truth. These woolgrowers are tougher than any ‘spaghetti-western’ cowboy you could image. Their jeans and checked shirts are splattered with the blood of lambs whose tails have been cut off to avoid blowfly infestation. The skin of these bushmen has been baked brown under an endless blue sky and powdered with a dusting of red sand, they scan the Fence through eyes which are half closed against the dust and the strength of the blinding sun. Mile after mile after mile their eyes skim the Fence looking for damage and areas in need of repair. The maintenance of the Fence cannot lapse as one dingo can kill up to 50 sheep and lambs in one night. Not for food, but just because this cousin of the coyote and descendant of the Asian wolf is a ceaseless hunter. Dingoes will chase down anything from red kangaroos and wombats to rabbits and lizards, but they favour the slow, panicky sheep. A small wolf-like creature, the dingo is a leggy dog, with a long muzzle, short pointed ears, and a bushy tail, usually ginger in colour - or so I was told. Because, ironically, the only dingoes in view were the rotting corpses impaled on the Fence. Their scalps removed by independent bounty hunters who can earn from eight pounds for the scalp of a young dingo and up to £200 for a problem dog. This creature, who has inhabited Australia for over 3,000 years coexisting with Aborigine tribes, is officially classed as vermin. As such, it is subject to the most horrendous form of death. Large metal claw traps are set, a sardonic sense of compassion compels the trappers to coat the teeth with strychnine in order to ease the animal’s death. Even though one trapper can kill around 200 dingoes in a year, estimates put todays population at more than a million. Therefore, the need for the Fence is even greater today than when it was started, and that was over 100 years ago by pioneer bushmen travelling with camels. Steel posts are erected in place of the ancient sagging wooden poles, new plastic coated mesh panels replace the rusting old ones, holes made by emus, wild pigs and camels are mended and tunnels dug by burrowing wombats are filled in. The dingo, however, is not responsible for any of the damage to the Fence. He prowls along it’s length, under the dust red sky of evening, yelping and howling at the tempting delights within the Fence’s boundary.
The ongoing battle between the woolgrowers and the dingo has escalated far beyond the protection of sheep. The ‘dog Fence’ has become a terrestrial dam, confusing the natural behaviour of Australia’s indigenous animals. Red and grey kangaroos, the great protected symbol of this continent, having freely penetrated the Fence, are without a native predator and their populations have exploded inside the Fence. They have now become the rivals of sheep, competing for water and grazing land and in response, governments cull more than three million kangaroos a year marketing the meat and hides. Could it be that the economic future for Australia’s biggest export will lie in the cultivation of kangaroo products? And if so, will the Fence be allowed to fall into disrepair or will it’s maintenance be upheld for the protection of the kangaroo instead of the sheep. At this point I will resist the urge to quote any anecdotes concerning ‘woolly jumpers’ but would remind you that no matter how mighty the predatory skills of the dingo, it can never compare with the disruptive influence that man exerts on the environment.
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