Hardy, 'eco-friendly' Nguni cattle may be a value breed as climate changes
Originally from Eastern Africa, Nguni cattle are bred to survive in tough landscapes, which advocates say makes them ideal for regional Australia.
The new herd was born on Whitby Falls Farm, run by Murdoch University south of Perth, to educate veterinary students and research the breed.
Murdoch University animal reproduction expert and research lead Pete Irons said Nguni cattle had adapted over many centuries to harsh environments.
"They're very light on the land … they're very efficient at utilising resources … their ability to conserve nitrogen [and] recycle nitrogen in their bodies is all very highly developed," he said.
The cattle's skin contains an oily substance that reflects the sun's rays, and they are also able to regulate their body temperature very effectively.
Dr Irons said these characteristics contributed to the breed's ability to tolerate tough conditions, making them a desirable livestock option in drought and heatwave-prone regions like WA.
"[They're also] highly disease resistant and very fertile," he said.
"So despite being in very harsh environments, they're able to breed and reproduce very successfully."
Nguni breeder Ed Rous said they produced less methane than other breeds, and were the best cattle for any sustainable farming operation.
The red-meat industry recently abandoned its target of net-zero emissions by 2030, claiming the goal was not possible.
However, Dr Irons said the beef industry needed to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions, and the Nguni offered an environmentally friendly step in the right direction.
"Anything we can do to address [those emissions] by creatively using different breeds of animals with unique genetics like this and farming efficiently … that will, by its very nature, reduce methane emissions," he said.
"This breed has real advantages here in Western Australia that the farming community should take seriously, especially as we move more and more into drought conditions [and] resource constraints.
"We think it's a breed we should be looking at."
Mr Rous said while interest in breeding Nguni cattle had been growing, the market remained focused on larger breeds such as Angus and Hereford.
"I feel the place in the sun for the Nguni is definitely more sustainable operations where people are farming paddock to plate because of their good meat … you can value-add by selling the product directly yourself," he said.
Mr Rous said he hoped research, like the studies being done by Murdoch University, would raise awareness about the breed.
"I have no doubt that they are capable of doing exceptionally well and they've proven to me that they [can], but I'm hoping we get more and more Australians interested in them," he said.
Murdoch student vet Caitlin Cooper said she expected the breed to have a "huge impact" moving forward.
"They truly are [the ultimate survivors] … they're tick resistant, heat resistant and in this current climate we need a resistant breed," she said.
"It's just about getting the word out about the Ngunis because I think that's the way into the future."
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ABC News
18 hours ago
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Long-lost photos of extinct butterfly bandicoot found in museum storeroom
Rohan Long was sifting through century-old archives of an anatomy professor when he came across a curious series of black and white photos of landscapes and native mammals. "They stood out to me because they were a bit older than most of the other objects that were there," Mr Long, curator of the University of Melbourne's Harry Brookes Allen Museum of Anatomy and Pathology, said. He recognised the photos were a continuation of a previously discovered series taken (or orchestrated) by the anatomist and naturalist Frederic Wood Jones in the 1920s. But he had no idea just how significant these images were, especially two depicting bandicoots. One was a side profile portrait of a living adult, the other a heavily painted-over photo of a juvenile nestled in a human hand. Mr Long was perplexed by the species description written on the back of the frames by Professor Jones. "He'd used a three-part scientific name [Perameles myosura notina]," Mr Long said. "It just made it more confusing because that combination of names is not found anywhere today. So I really was completely stumped." Mr Long sent the images to mammalogy curator Kenny Travouillon at the Western Australian Museum, who immediately realised they portrayed an extinct species of bandicoot he and a colleague described in 2018. They named it the Nullarbor barred or butterfly bandicoot (Perameles papillon) due to the distinctive butterfly-shaped patch on its rump, Dr Travouillon said. As well as showing the animal's ear markings and unique pattern of barred fur, one of the photos was also linked to a location: "Ooldea" in the Nullarbor region. Mr Long, who'd always been fascinated by historically extinct species, was stoked to discover the only known photos of the animal. With further digging, he came across another photo of the bandicoot hiding in plain sight, but misidentified. It was first printed in a newspaper in 1924 but the original glass slide, which is kept at the South Australian Museum, was simply labelled "bandicoot". "[The three images] are amazingly significant because they depict living representatives of a species that's now extinct," Mr Long said. So what happened to the bandicoots in the photographs, and their species as a whole? Delving into historical museum correspondence and the writings of Professor Jones provides some answers. Professor Jones, an Englishman, taught human anatomy at the University of Adelaide in 1919. He was also interested in the anatomy and ecology of Australian animals and wrote a series of influential books called The Mammals of South Australia. Perameles myosura notina was referred to as a Nullarbor form of what was then thought to be one barred bandicoot species (now understood to be several) that lived from southern Western Australia to east of Adelaide. But in the 1920s, when his books were published, this overarching species of barred bandicoots was seemingly restricted to the Nullarbor because of factors associated with European colonisation. The professor, who was was concerned by Australia's staggering loss of mammals even by the 1920s, believed all barred bandicoots of southern Australia were about to be wiped out entirely. So he tried breeding them. "He had a shed at the University of Adelaide that was his little menagerie, and he used to breed marsupials and keep marsupials and other animals on the grounds," Mr Long said. Live butterfly bandicoot specimens collected by traditional owners on the Nullarbor were given to the remote train station master at Ooldea Siding, who sent them to Adelaide. "Often when you trace back to where that animal actually came from, it's been collected by an Aboriginal person," Mr Long said. "And they were very rarely, if ever, acknowledged by name." Many of the bandicoots didn't make it to Adelaide alive. They fought each other to death, Professor Jones wrote: Although they are extremely gentle when kept as pets, they are desperately pugnacious among themselves. On one occasion eight live specimens were sent from Ooldea. All eight were dead and almost devoid of hair when they arrived in Adelaide. But in the bandicoot corpse pouches were four young, two males and two females from different litters. They also seemed to be dead, but were revived. Unfortunately, when they were older, one female killed the other, then fatally injured her first breeding partner. When she had babies with the other male, she killed and ate most of them "even when they were grown to half their adult size", Professor Jones wrote. Unlike other bandicoot species, butterfly bandicoot females are 20 per cent larger than males, Dr Travouillon said. "So the females were making the decisions about the breeding rather than the males, and they were very, very aggressive compared to other species of bandicoots." Mr Long believes the photographs were probably of the butterfly bandicoots raised by Professor Jones but none of the animals moved with him to Melbourne in 1930. And just a few years later, the butterfly bandicoot was extinct. Thirty-four mammal species are believed to have gone extinct since European colonisation in Australia. And researchers didn't even know the butterfly bandicoot had disappeared until Dr Travouillon described it as a separate species after coming across specimens in museums around the world. The butterfly bandicoot likely fell victim to foxes, which caused a wave of extinctions as the predator moved westward across Australia, Dr Travouillon said. "They [butterfly bandicoots] should have gone extinct in 1910, but they managed to survive until the 1930s. "And I suspect it's because [the species] is so much more aggressive and it's also got a very unusual way of escaping." Professor Jones wrote that, when alarmed, the butterfly bandicoot would "pause, and then, in an instant, spring into the air and vanish in the most remarkable manner" instead of just speeding away like other species. Dr Travouillon thinks this behaviour might have confused foxes, allowing the butterfly bandicoot to last longer than other small mammals in Australia. One lesson from the loss of the butterfly bandicoot is the importance of examining museum specimens, according to Dr Travouillon. By looking at collections around the world, scientists can discover still-living species in need of conservation help. And even though the butterfly bandicoot is gone, knowing more about its life history could help with future rewilding efforts. Genetic work has found the butterfly bandicoot branched off 3 million years ago from extinct desert bandicoots and still-living Shark Bay bandicoots (Perameles bougainville). Dr Travouillon said species related to extinct animals could be introduced into areas the latter once lived to recover the ecosystem. For instance, mammals that dig holes, such as bandicoots, play a vital role in sowing seeds. "Once they're gone … there's no more holes where plant seeds can accumulate, and the seeds actually need that to germinate," Dr Travouillon said. "So bringing back a [similar species] to do that job is really beneficial for the environment. It will help the plants to come back." Mr Long believes people should see the rediscovered photos of the butterfly bandicoot as a reminder of what we stand to lose. "It's worth remembering and getting to know these animals, even after their extinction," he said. "Because it's part of a broader narrative, which is pretty important for us to be aware of in 2025. "They're poorly known because they went extinct … they're gone because of the actions of the European colonists of Australia." Mr Long's words echo the thoughts and sentiments of Professor Jones from his mammal handbooks 100 years ago: Australia has a heritage for which it must accept responsibility. It must be prepared to conserve the living, to collect and preserve the dead, and to make provision for the proper study of the fauna in all its aspects.
ABC News
2 days ago
- ABC News
Scientists look to Indigenous history to manage flood risk in Hawkesbury-Nepean Valley
Accounts of floods recorded in Aboriginal oral history centuries ago could provide vital clues to how climate change will affect flood risk in the future. Scientists working on a disaster adaptation plan for the Hawkesbury-Nepean Valley in Sydney's north-west are looking into the past to help predict the future. Stephen Yeo, senior flood risk specialist at the NSW Reconstruction Authority, said records at Windsor go back to the early days of European settlement. "On this river system, we have the longest record of floods in Australia from the early 1790s right up to the present," he said. "That's actually pretty short in geological time." The biggest flood recorded since European settlement was in June 1867. But there are early colonial accounts of Aboriginal elders describing an even bigger flood that happened eight years before the arrival of the First Fleet. "During that flood it apparently poured in torrents for seven nights and seven days," Dr Yeo said. He said this event changed what scientists know about the magnitude and frequency of flooding in the river system. "It suggests that the flood in 1780 was perhaps 2 or 3 metres higher than what we currently think is the record flood in 1867. "So that's actually really valuable information from that Aboriginal storytelling." Waterway scientist Daryl Lam is part of a team searching for traces of pre-settlement floods. "History is telling us what has happened before really can happen again, so if we can find evidence of big floods from the past, it gives us some understanding of what we can potentially see in climate change," he said. Samples of sediment have been collected from three locations high above the river bank. These samples will be taken back to a laboratory and analysed to pinpoint exactly when the sediment was deposited. Measurements taken at the site will allow researchers to calculate how high the floodwaters rose. "Here in the Hawkesbury-Nepean, we have gauge records that go beyond a hundred years," Dr Lam said. "If we take into account oral history, we might be able to push it out to 200 years or 500 if we are lucky. "With paleoflood reconstruction, we will be able to work out a longer timescale." Archaeologist Bec Chalker said evidence of Aboriginal occupation can be found in caves all along the river. "We find tools that are hidden up on crevices in the shelters, just like we would put our tools and kitchen utensils on a shelf at home." She said Indigenous knowledge built up over generations was proving to be a valuable resource. "We have a lot to learn, and I think people are more open to learning now." Climate change is adding to the flood risk with every degree of atmospheric warming increasing rainfall in the catchment by 8 per cent. Between 2020 and 2022, the area flooded six times. With 114,000 people now living on the flood plain, the NSW Reconstruction Authority is considering whether building levees and improving evacuation roads will help mitigate the risk. "Climate change is here, we have to factor it into today's decision-making," Dr Yeo said.
ABC News
2 days ago
- ABC News
Sea turtle clinic on Magnetic Island showcases dedication of wildlife carers
Down a dirt track behind the sandhills of an idyllic Queensland tropical beach is a ramshackle, but special, cluster of buildings. This unassuming place occupies the site of a former sewage pumping plant, and is where a team of dedicated volunteers run the Magnetic Island Network for Turtles (MINT) clinic for sick and injured sea turtles. The clinic isn't usually open to the public, but I'm here to find out exactly what happens when your patient is a sea turtle, and how the volunteers' work helps some of the Great Barrier Reef's threatened species. The day starts at 8am when biologist and volunteer Adriana Labate unlocks the gates. Adriana Labate is part of the MINT turtle clinic's daily care team. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) She leans over the first "hospital bed", a "self-cleaning" aquaculture tank that is a bit over 2 metres wide and made of dark green plastic. "This is Boris," she tells me, her soft voice competing with the hum, swish and gurgle of the water filtering system. The scent of seawater fills the air. Inside the tub is a green sea turtle ( Chelonia mydas ) that was rescued after being spotted struggling with fishing line wrapped around its left flipper. Boris hasn't eaten since arriving some weeks ago. Patient Boris spends a lot of time sitting on a rock. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) It is still too early to tell if Boris is a "he" or a "she" because at about 20 years of age, the turtle is still a youngster. It becomes easier to tell the difference between male and female green sea turtles once they mature at about the age of 30 and males develop longer tails, but for now, volunteers use a mix of pronouns to refer to their juvenile patients. The other current patient is Joni, a slightly younger green sea turtle, that was found stranded on one of the Island's beaches. Joni was underweight, could not swim normally, and had a shell infection that made it softer than normal. Unlike Boris, Joni greets Adriana enthusiastically at the edge of the tank. "She already knows food is coming," Adriana says, scooping some turtle scat out of the water. Life on the reef Both Joni and Boris were born on the Great Barrier Reef before riding the currents in the Pacific — like Nemo — as far away as South America. That's decades spent defying the odds; only 1 in 1,000 sea turtle hatchlings survive to adulthood. While swimming on the surface of the high seas, the turtles would have eaten whatever they came across such as squid, jellyfish, and algae. Now they've come back to the Reef to mature and breed and would normally switch to feeding mainly on seagrass on the sea floor. Seagrass is a protected marine plant, and it is illegal to harvest it from the wild, so the patients are fed greens like bok choy or cos lettuce instead. But high-protein seafood is the quickest way to get them to put on much-needed weight. In the volunteer headquarters, Adriana carefully weighs out a portion of chopped squid to feed to Joni. Adriana walks past volunteer HQ, which houses a kitchen-cum-office. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Adriana heads to the kitchen to get Joni's breakfast. The walls are adorned with colourful turtle-themed mosaics. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) It's important to know how much the patients are eating as part of getting them well enough to be released. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) It's important to know how much the patients are eating as part of getting them well enough to be released. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) Joni loves her squid but is a fussy eater. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) High-protein squid will help Joni gain weight before being released back into the wild. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) Volunteers keep detailed records of their patients. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Volunteers keep detailed records of what happens on their shifts. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) Joni is a little fussy, preferring squid over prawns, and especially likes being tantalised by squid tentacles, Adriana says. "You wave them around and pretend that it's an animal … They think that's the creature swimming." Adriana notes that Joni is eating well and has regular bowel movements, which is a good sign there are no gut blockages. Sadly, the records show Boris is losing weight. Turtles can 'give up on life' Turtles can need rescuing for lots of reasons. Some, like Boris, get tangled up in discarded fishing gear, and some are slashed by passing boat propellers. Others battle diseases due to poor water quality, have their food sources destroyed or are choked by plastic. Affected turtles can't swim or dive for food properly. And no food means no energy. It's a vicious cycle. "They get to a point where they're so weak they just wash up on the beach and give up on life," says Paul Groves, co-founder of MINT. Paul's "day job" is as a marine scientist with the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park Authority. But his main job in the hospital is to look after infrastructure, which includes keeping the seawater in the tanks circulating, clean and at the right temperature — to avoid "turtle soup" in the north Queensland summer. Paul Groves smiling at the camera. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Paul Groves helped found the clinic. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) Paul is always perfecting the filtration system to reduce the amount of seawater he has to pump up from the beach, which he describes as his "least favourite job". ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Paul's responsible for keeping the seawater circulating and filtered. With a background in aquariums, it's a system he's always trying to perfect. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) This colourful header tank put in with community help holds seawater pumped up from the nearby beach. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) The better job he does at filtration, the less seawater he has to pump up from the beach to this header tank, something he describes as his "least favourite job". (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) Adult green sea turtles can take four to six people to lift, says Paul. To help cope with bigger patients the hospital got a grant to install a crane to lift bigger patients. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Paul recently got a grant to install a crane to lift adult green sea turtles, which can otherwise take four to six people to lift. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) Adults sea turtles can weigh hundreds of kilograms. Here Paul shows a small and large harness that can be used to transfer rescued turtles to the hospital. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) These small and large harnesses are used to transfer rescued turtles from the beach to the clinic. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) Paul helped establish MINT in 2012 to rescue turtles like Boris and Joni and nurse them back to health so they could be released again to the wild. Back then, countless starving and weak sea turtles washed up on the beaches around Townsville after Cyclone Yasi destroyed the seagrass beds they grazed on. The impact of Yasi also spurred Tim Downs, a Magnetic Island local, to volunteer to help the MINT clinic's medical team. Tim Downs is a volunteer at the turtle clinic. ( ABC: Anna Salleh ) Over the years, Tim's seen countless patients admitted to the clinic — and not all survive. He recalls one "badly smashed up" turtle that had been struck by a boat. Another boat strike case left a deep cut on a turtle's head. "She was very badly concussed … we had her for about three days before she died." Then there was the case of an animal that had its neck trapped in a crab pot. Most patients have "floating syndrome", where the gut is unable to digest its contents properly, so gas from decomposing food builds up inside the turtle causing it to float aimlessly. Swallowing something they shouldn't have is one of the main causes of this life-threatening condition. Fishing line cut blood circulation to Boris' left flipper. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Turtles have downward-facing spines in their gut to help them filter food from sea water that they "vomit" back out through their nostrils. But this means they can't easily cough anything back up again. And unless it gets passed at the other end, something as innocent as an escaped party balloon can cause a potentially fatal blockage. Swallowed fishing line can wrap around a turtle's innards too, Tim explains. And the movement of the gut tightens the line, making it difficult to pass or be removed by surgery. "It's a pretty agonising death for them," he says. All patients that can fit are put in a CT scanner for free at James Cook University. ( Supplied: JCUVets ) All patients that can fit are put in a CT scanner for free at James Cook University. (Supplied: JCUVets) Tim at the door of the hospital's mobile "tiny home" medical centre. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Tim at the door of the clinic's mobile "tiny home" medical centre. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) 20250502_090510 The medical centre is a mobile tiny home that can be conveniently moved if MINT's rent-free status with Townsville City Council ends, or there is a mass stranding of turtles. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) It's in here that complex procedures like tube feeding occur. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) Boris gets medical care Thankfully, a CT scan indicates Boris hasn't swallowed any fishing gear. But the turtle isn't eating. "His prognosis is good, providing he gets off his hunger strike," Tim says. And if Boris doesn't start eating soon, tube feeding might be necessary. Gina Sweeney, an ex-nurse, injects Boris with a drug to stimulate appetite in the hope it helps. Patients can also get injections of vitamins, antibiotics or painkillers as part of their care. Gina then chases the Boris around the tank to catch and manoeuvre the 13kg turtle out of the tank. That may seem hefty but adult male turtles can weigh up to 150kg. She gently places Boris on the injecting table carefully avoiding contact with the sore flipper that was damaged by fishing line. Gina injects Boris with an appetite stimulant. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Gina first came across a turtle in the wild while diving on the Great Barrier Reef. "There's something so majestic and I just love them — prehistoric, gentle, graceful … I'm fascinated," she says. "It's a privilege to be able to look after them." Gina feels connected to green sea turtles like Boris. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Joni's day spa When it's Joni's time for some medical care, first on the agenda is a shell clean. In the wild, "cleaner fish" would keep a turtle's shell in good nick, but in the clinic, patients need a weekly scrub. Out come a selection of dish brushes used to scrub most of the shell, and toothbrushes for the sensitive infected parts. Luckily for Joni, this whole process doubles as a delicious back scrub. Turtles apparently like their butt being scrubbed. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Turtles have nerve endings in their shell and they particularly enjoy being scrubbed near their rear end, in the same way a dog does, says Lily Donnelly, a PhD student in conservation genetics at James Cook University. "They do enjoy a scratch. They get a bit invigorated by it," she says. After the scrub, Lily cleans out the tiny sores on Joni's shell and puts ointment on them. Then she flips Joni over to attend to the sores on the turtle's underside. Lily is also involved in the medical team. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Lily, who volunteers in the medical team, is also studying the impact of extreme weather on turtles. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) Ointment is dabbed into sores on Joni's underside. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Ointment is dabbed into sores on Joni's underside. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) Joni's day spa kit including paw-paw ointment and toothbrush to apply it. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Joni's day spa kit complete with paw paw ointment. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) A weigh-in is the final stage before Joni is returned to her tank. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Joni is putting on weight, but is still quite thin. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) A volunteer gently cradles Joni's head and at times covers the turtle's eyes with a towel to keep it calm. The final part of Joni's "whole body pamper" is a massage with paw paw ointment. Extreme weather takes a toll Lily's been volunteering for the clinic since 2022, and MINT recently got a grant for her to research ways to improve flatback sea turtle ( Natator depressus ) reproduction success on Magnetic Island. Most patients that come to the clinic are green sea turtles, which spend more time close to shore than other species. Hawksbill sea turtles( Eretmochelys imbricata ) are sometimes rescued too. But flatbacks are the main species that nests on the Island's beaches. And extreme temperatures have seen some flatback turtle eggs boiled in their shells, Lily says. "The sand is too hot, and their eggs and turtles are getting cooked before they hatch." Back in the volunteer headquarters, Lily retrieves plastic containers with some of her research samples from a freezer. Her gloved hands cradle a frozen ball — it's a hard-boiled yellow egg yolk with a tiny turtle embryo still clinging to it. This flatback turtle egg was found cooked in the sand. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Overheating not only affects the number of hatchlings from each nest but when babies do survive, they're more likely to be female — something that can also affect reproduction success for the species. A record deluge too has been a challenge for turtles. This year's monsoon saw around 2.5 metres of rain fall in a just few short months. From one of the other freezer bags, she takes out another victim of extreme weather: a dead hatchling that got "cold shock" after 10 straight days of driving rain. "It got stuck in the sand dunes and it didn't make it." Lily holds a hatchling that didn't survive the record-breaking wet season. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Volunteers and fundraising Paul has organised a working bee to attract prospective volunteers so there are more people here today than usual. But there's a lot of training required to be a volunteer and people often leave not long after they arrive. This leaves a gap in the feeding roster that has to be rapidly plugged with the remaining volunteers. He encourages people who are prepared to commit for at least six months. While a voluntary workforce is good, the clinic still needs to get grants for infrastructure and electricity, and fundraise for running costs such as food for the patients. They aim to feed a recovering turtle 10 per cent of its body weight in seafood every day. Paul and Tim chat to a potential new recruit. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Fortunately, there is a volunteer vet on the team and James Cook University provides free CT scans for any patients that can fit in their scanner. Medications and surgery must be paid for separately though, and this is where the Magnetic Island community steps in. "People on the Island collect their cans and bottles and then donate them to us and that [a "cash for cans" container deposit scheme] pays for the food and the medicine and electricity," Paul says. Around the Island, people support fundraising efforts for the clinic. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) As I leave, the place still buzzes with activity. Adriana has shifted from patient care to painting doors and Paul is assessing whether or not he can build a roof over some holding tanks to prevent turtles drowning when it rains heavily. Joni goes home Two months after my first visit to the turtle clinic, a notice pops up in my social media feed. Joni has recovered and will be released back into the wild. After 16 weeks in care Joni has done well and if anything is "a little bit fat," which should give her a head start going back into the ocean, says Dhanushka Jayokody-Perera, a volunteer vet. Dr Dhanushka Jayokody-Perera — known as "Dr Dhash" — volunteers veterinary services to the clinic. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) "Joni's recovered much quicker than some of the others we've had," Dr Jayokody-Perera says. On a bright, sunny Saturday, I join a group of islanders who form a U-shape on the beach as Joni is lifted down to the water's edge. Joni is carried through a crowd on the last leg of the journey from the clinic to back to the reef. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) Joni is carried through a crowd on the last leg of the journey from the clinic back to the reef. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) After 16 weeks, Joni is back in the ocean. ( ABC Science: Anna Salleh ) After 16 weeks, Joni is back in the ocean. (ABC Science: Anna Salleh) This is the moment the volunteers have been waiting for. Joni takes off like a rocket through the water as the crowd claps and cheers. Lily reflects on the highs and lows of turtle care. "It's bittersweet, but it's always great to see them go back to their ocean home," she says. But not all turtles that come into the clinic make it back home. An X-ray revealed Boris had a broken flipper. The team gave him painkillers and a moon boot, and he picked up for a while, but then complications from a lack of blood set in and the turtle needed surgery to remove part of the flipper. Sadly, despite all the team's efforts, Boris didn't recover and unexpectedly died two days after Joni was released. Tim reflects on the time he spent with Boris. "They win you over because you care for them for so long," he says. "[Boris's death] is sad, but it's something you have to accept when you take on the role of a rehabilitator. "We think about the ones we can save, rather than the ones we lose."
