It’s just past midnight in the cool, ancient forests of Tasmania. We’ve spent a long day and night surveying endangered Tasmanian devils. All around, small animals scurry through bushes. A devil calls in the darkness. Microbats swoop and swirl as a spotted-tailed quoll slips through the shadows. Working here is spine-tingling and electric.
Weeks later, we’re in a moonlit forest in Victoria. It was logged a few years earlier and burnt by bushfire a few decades before that. The old trees are gone. So too are the quolls, bats and moths that once dwelled in their hollows. Invasive blackberry chokes what remains. The silence is deafening, and devastating.
