Our pampered pets might be better off without us
But the situation is perhaps not as rosy for the animal itself. Domesticated animals often live longer than their free-living counterparts, but the quality of those lives can be compromised. Pets can be fed processed foods that can lead to obesity. Many are denied a sexual life and experience of parenthood. Exercise can be limited, isolation is common and boredom must be endured.
In the worst cases, pets suffer due to selective breeding practices, physical abuse and unethical commercial breeding.
Is this the best life for the species we feel closest to? This question was raised for me when I heard the story of Valerie, the dachshund recaptured in April this year after almost 18 months living on her own on South Australia's Karta Pintingga/Kangaroo Island.
Valerie, a miniature dachshund, escaped into the bush during a camping trip on Kangaroo Island in November 2023. After several days of searching, her bereft humans returned to their home in NSW. They assumed the tiny dog, who had lived her life as a "little princess", was gone forever.
Fast-forward a year, and sightings were reported on the island of a small dog wearing a pink collar. Word spread and volunteers renewed the search. A wildlife rescue group designed a purpose-built trap, fitting it out with items from Valerie's former home.
After several weeks, a remotely controlled gate clattered shut behind Valerie and she was caught.
Cue great celebrations. The searchers were triumphant and the family was delighted. Social media lit up. It was a canine reenactment of one of settler Australia's enduring narratives: the lost child rescued from the hostile bush.
But imagine if Valerie's story was told from a more dog-centred perspective. Valerie found herself alone in a strange place and took the opportunity to run away. She embarked on a new life in which she was responsible for herself and could exercise the intelligence inherited from her boar-hunting ancestors.
No longer required to be a good girl, Valerie applied her own judgement - that notorious dachshund "stubbornness" - to evade predators, fill her stomach and pass her days.
Some commentators assumed Valerie must have been fed by anonymous benefactors - reflecting a widely held view that pets have limited abilities.
Veterinary experts, however, said her diet likely consisted of small birds, mammals and reptiles she killed herself - as well as roadkill, other carrion and faeces.
Valerie was clearly good at life on the lam. Unlike the human competitors in the series Alone Australia, she did not waste away when left in an island wilderness. Instead, she gained 1.8 kilograms of muscle - and was so stocky she no longer fit the old harness her humans brought to collect her. She had literally outgrown her former bonds.
Valerie could have sought shelter with the island's humans at any time, but chose not to. She had to be actively trapped. Once returned to her humans, she needed time to reacclimatise to life as a pet.
Not all missing pets thrive in the wild. But all this raises the question of whether Valerie's rescue would be better understood as a forced return from a full life of freedom, to a diminished existence in captivity?
Other examples exist which suggest an animal's best life can take place outside the constraints of being a pet.
Exotic parrots have fled lives in cages to form urban flocks. In the United States, 25 species initially imported as pets have set up self-sustaining, free-living populations across 23 states.
Or take the red-eared slider turtle, which is native to parts of the US and Mexico. It's illegal to keep the turtles as pets in Australia, but some of those smuggled in have later been released into urban wetlands where they have established large and widespread populations.
Cats are perhaps the most notorious example of escaped pets thriving on their own in Australia. They numbers in the millions, in habitats from cities to the Simpson Desert to the Snowy Mountains, showing how little they need human assistance.
One mark of their success is their prodigious size. At up to 7 kilograms, free-living cats can be more than twice the weight of the average domestic cat.
Around the world, exotic former companion mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and insects have all established populations large enough to pose problems for other species.
Of course, I am not advocating that pets be released to the wild, creating new problems. But I do believe current pet-keeping practices are due for reconsideration.
A dramatic solution would be to take the animal out of the pet relationship. Social robots that look like seals and teddy bears are already available to welcome you home, mirror your emotions and offer up cuddles without the cost to other animals.
A less radical option is to rethink the idea of animals as "pets" and instead see them as equals.
Some people already enjoy these unforced bonds. Magpies, for example, are known to have strong allegiances with each other and are sometimes willing to extend those connections to humans in multi-species friendships.
As for Valerie, she did make "her little happy sounds" when reunited with her humans. But she might look back with nostalgia to her 529 days of freedom on Kangaroo Island.
Pet-keeping is often promoted for the benefits it brings humans. A close association with another animal can provide us with a sense of purpose and a daily dose of joy. It can aid our health, make us more conscientious and even help us form relationships with other humans.
But the situation is perhaps not as rosy for the animal itself. Domesticated animals often live longer than their free-living counterparts, but the quality of those lives can be compromised. Pets can be fed processed foods that can lead to obesity. Many are denied a sexual life and experience of parenthood. Exercise can be limited, isolation is common and boredom must be endured.
In the worst cases, pets suffer due to selective breeding practices, physical abuse and unethical commercial breeding.
Is this the best life for the species we feel closest to? This question was raised for me when I heard the story of Valerie, the dachshund recaptured in April this year after almost 18 months living on her own on South Australia's Karta Pintingga/Kangaroo Island.
Valerie, a miniature dachshund, escaped into the bush during a camping trip on Kangaroo Island in November 2023. After several days of searching, her bereft humans returned to their home in NSW. They assumed the tiny dog, who had lived her life as a "little princess", was gone forever.
Fast-forward a year, and sightings were reported on the island of a small dog wearing a pink collar. Word spread and volunteers renewed the search. A wildlife rescue group designed a purpose-built trap, fitting it out with items from Valerie's former home.
After several weeks, a remotely controlled gate clattered shut behind Valerie and she was caught.
Cue great celebrations. The searchers were triumphant and the family was delighted. Social media lit up. It was a canine reenactment of one of settler Australia's enduring narratives: the lost child rescued from the hostile bush.
But imagine if Valerie's story was told from a more dog-centred perspective. Valerie found herself alone in a strange place and took the opportunity to run away. She embarked on a new life in which she was responsible for herself and could exercise the intelligence inherited from her boar-hunting ancestors.
No longer required to be a good girl, Valerie applied her own judgement - that notorious dachshund "stubbornness" - to evade predators, fill her stomach and pass her days.
Some commentators assumed Valerie must have been fed by anonymous benefactors - reflecting a widely held view that pets have limited abilities.
Veterinary experts, however, said her diet likely consisted of small birds, mammals and reptiles she killed herself - as well as roadkill, other carrion and faeces.
Valerie was clearly good at life on the lam. Unlike the human competitors in the series Alone Australia, she did not waste away when left in an island wilderness. Instead, she gained 1.8 kilograms of muscle - and was so stocky she no longer fit the old harness her humans brought to collect her. She had literally outgrown her former bonds.
Valerie could have sought shelter with the island's humans at any time, but chose not to. She had to be actively trapped. Once returned to her humans, she needed time to reacclimatise to life as a pet.
Not all missing pets thrive in the wild. But all this raises the question of whether Valerie's rescue would be better understood as a forced return from a full life of freedom, to a diminished existence in captivity?
Other examples exist which suggest an animal's best life can take place outside the constraints of being a pet.
Exotic parrots have fled lives in cages to form urban flocks. In the United States, 25 species initially imported as pets have set up self-sustaining, free-living populations across 23 states.
Or take the red-eared slider turtle, which is native to parts of the US and Mexico. It's illegal to keep the turtles as pets in Australia, but some of those smuggled in have later been released into urban wetlands where they have established large and widespread populations.
Cats are perhaps the most notorious example of escaped pets thriving on their own in Australia. They numbers in the millions, in habitats from cities to the Simpson Desert to the Snowy Mountains, showing how little they need human assistance.
One mark of their success is their prodigious size. At up to 7 kilograms, free-living cats can be more than twice the weight of the average domestic cat.
Around the world, exotic former companion mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and insects have all established populations large enough to pose problems for other species.
Of course, I am not advocating that pets be released to the wild, creating new problems. But I do believe current pet-keeping practices are due for reconsideration.
A dramatic solution would be to take the animal out of the pet relationship. Social robots that look like seals and teddy bears are already available to welcome you home, mirror your emotions and offer up cuddles without the cost to other animals.
A less radical option is to rethink the idea of animals as "pets" and instead see them as equals.
Some people already enjoy these unforced bonds. Magpies, for example, are known to have strong allegiances with each other and are sometimes willing to extend those connections to humans in multi-species friendships.
As for Valerie, she did make "her little happy sounds" when reunited with her humans. But she might look back with nostalgia to her 529 days of freedom on Kangaroo Island.
Pet-keeping is often promoted for the benefits it brings humans. A close association with another animal can provide us with a sense of purpose and a daily dose of joy. It can aid our health, make us more conscientious and even help us form relationships with other humans.
But the situation is perhaps not as rosy for the animal itself. Domesticated animals often live longer than their free-living counterparts, but the quality of those lives can be compromised. Pets can be fed processed foods that can lead to obesity. Many are denied a sexual life and experience of parenthood. Exercise can be limited, isolation is common and boredom must be endured.
In the worst cases, pets suffer due to selective breeding practices, physical abuse and unethical commercial breeding.
Is this the best life for the species we feel closest to? This question was raised for me when I heard the story of Valerie, the dachshund recaptured in April this year after almost 18 months living on her own on South Australia's Karta Pintingga/Kangaroo Island.
Valerie, a miniature dachshund, escaped into the bush during a camping trip on Kangaroo Island in November 2023. After several days of searching, her bereft humans returned to their home in NSW. They assumed the tiny dog, who had lived her life as a "little princess", was gone forever.
Fast-forward a year, and sightings were reported on the island of a small dog wearing a pink collar. Word spread and volunteers renewed the search. A wildlife rescue group designed a purpose-built trap, fitting it out with items from Valerie's former home.
After several weeks, a remotely controlled gate clattered shut behind Valerie and she was caught.
Cue great celebrations. The searchers were triumphant and the family was delighted. Social media lit up. It was a canine reenactment of one of settler Australia's enduring narratives: the lost child rescued from the hostile bush.
But imagine if Valerie's story was told from a more dog-centred perspective. Valerie found herself alone in a strange place and took the opportunity to run away. She embarked on a new life in which she was responsible for herself and could exercise the intelligence inherited from her boar-hunting ancestors.
No longer required to be a good girl, Valerie applied her own judgement - that notorious dachshund "stubbornness" - to evade predators, fill her stomach and pass her days.
Some commentators assumed Valerie must have been fed by anonymous benefactors - reflecting a widely held view that pets have limited abilities.
Veterinary experts, however, said her diet likely consisted of small birds, mammals and reptiles she killed herself - as well as roadkill, other carrion and faeces.
Valerie was clearly good at life on the lam. Unlike the human competitors in the series Alone Australia, she did not waste away when left in an island wilderness. Instead, she gained 1.8 kilograms of muscle - and was so stocky she no longer fit the old harness her humans brought to collect her. She had literally outgrown her former bonds.
Valerie could have sought shelter with the island's humans at any time, but chose not to. She had to be actively trapped. Once returned to her humans, she needed time to reacclimatise to life as a pet.
Not all missing pets thrive in the wild. But all this raises the question of whether Valerie's rescue would be better understood as a forced return from a full life of freedom, to a diminished existence in captivity?
Other examples exist which suggest an animal's best life can take place outside the constraints of being a pet.
Exotic parrots have fled lives in cages to form urban flocks. In the United States, 25 species initially imported as pets have set up self-sustaining, free-living populations across 23 states.
Or take the red-eared slider turtle, which is native to parts of the US and Mexico. It's illegal to keep the turtles as pets in Australia, but some of those smuggled in have later been released into urban wetlands where they have established large and widespread populations.
Cats are perhaps the most notorious example of escaped pets thriving on their own in Australia. They numbers in the millions, in habitats from cities to the Simpson Desert to the Snowy Mountains, showing how little they need human assistance.
One mark of their success is their prodigious size. At up to 7 kilograms, free-living cats can be more than twice the weight of the average domestic cat.
Around the world, exotic former companion mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and insects have all established populations large enough to pose problems for other species.
Of course, I am not advocating that pets be released to the wild, creating new problems. But I do believe current pet-keeping practices are due for reconsideration.
A dramatic solution would be to take the animal out of the pet relationship. Social robots that look like seals and teddy bears are already available to welcome you home, mirror your emotions and offer up cuddles without the cost to other animals.
A less radical option is to rethink the idea of animals as "pets" and instead see them as equals.
Some people already enjoy these unforced bonds. Magpies, for example, are known to have strong allegiances with each other and are sometimes willing to extend those connections to humans in multi-species friendships.
As for Valerie, she did make "her little happy sounds" when reunited with her humans. But she might look back with nostalgia to her 529 days of freedom on Kangaroo Island.
Pet-keeping is often promoted for the benefits it brings humans. A close association with another animal can provide us with a sense of purpose and a daily dose of joy. It can aid our health, make us more conscientious and even help us form relationships with other humans.
But the situation is perhaps not as rosy for the animal itself. Domesticated animals often live longer than their free-living counterparts, but the quality of those lives can be compromised. Pets can be fed processed foods that can lead to obesity. Many are denied a sexual life and experience of parenthood. Exercise can be limited, isolation is common and boredom must be endured.
In the worst cases, pets suffer due to selective breeding practices, physical abuse and unethical commercial breeding.
Is this the best life for the species we feel closest to? This question was raised for me when I heard the story of Valerie, the dachshund recaptured in April this year after almost 18 months living on her own on South Australia's Karta Pintingga/Kangaroo Island.
Valerie, a miniature dachshund, escaped into the bush during a camping trip on Kangaroo Island in November 2023. After several days of searching, her bereft humans returned to their home in NSW. They assumed the tiny dog, who had lived her life as a "little princess", was gone forever.
Fast-forward a year, and sightings were reported on the island of a small dog wearing a pink collar. Word spread and volunteers renewed the search. A wildlife rescue group designed a purpose-built trap, fitting it out with items from Valerie's former home.
After several weeks, a remotely controlled gate clattered shut behind Valerie and she was caught.
Cue great celebrations. The searchers were triumphant and the family was delighted. Social media lit up. It was a canine reenactment of one of settler Australia's enduring narratives: the lost child rescued from the hostile bush.
But imagine if Valerie's story was told from a more dog-centred perspective. Valerie found herself alone in a strange place and took the opportunity to run away. She embarked on a new life in which she was responsible for herself and could exercise the intelligence inherited from her boar-hunting ancestors.
No longer required to be a good girl, Valerie applied her own judgement - that notorious dachshund "stubbornness" - to evade predators, fill her stomach and pass her days.
Some commentators assumed Valerie must have been fed by anonymous benefactors - reflecting a widely held view that pets have limited abilities.
Veterinary experts, however, said her diet likely consisted of small birds, mammals and reptiles she killed herself - as well as roadkill, other carrion and faeces.
Valerie was clearly good at life on the lam. Unlike the human competitors in the series Alone Australia, she did not waste away when left in an island wilderness. Instead, she gained 1.8 kilograms of muscle - and was so stocky she no longer fit the old harness her humans brought to collect her. She had literally outgrown her former bonds.
Valerie could have sought shelter with the island's humans at any time, but chose not to. She had to be actively trapped. Once returned to her humans, she needed time to reacclimatise to life as a pet.
Not all missing pets thrive in the wild. But all this raises the question of whether Valerie's rescue would be better understood as a forced return from a full life of freedom, to a diminished existence in captivity?
Other examples exist which suggest an animal's best life can take place outside the constraints of being a pet.
Exotic parrots have fled lives in cages to form urban flocks. In the United States, 25 species initially imported as pets have set up self-sustaining, free-living populations across 23 states.
Or take the red-eared slider turtle, which is native to parts of the US and Mexico. It's illegal to keep the turtles as pets in Australia, but some of those smuggled in have later been released into urban wetlands where they have established large and widespread populations.
Cats are perhaps the most notorious example of escaped pets thriving on their own in Australia. They numbers in the millions, in habitats from cities to the Simpson Desert to the Snowy Mountains, showing how little they need human assistance.
One mark of their success is their prodigious size. At up to 7 kilograms, free-living cats can be more than twice the weight of the average domestic cat.
Around the world, exotic former companion mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and insects have all established populations large enough to pose problems for other species.
Of course, I am not advocating that pets be released to the wild, creating new problems. But I do believe current pet-keeping practices are due for reconsideration.
A dramatic solution would be to take the animal out of the pet relationship. Social robots that look like seals and teddy bears are already available to welcome you home, mirror your emotions and offer up cuddles without the cost to other animals.
A less radical option is to rethink the idea of animals as "pets" and instead see them as equals.
Some people already enjoy these unforced bonds. Magpies, for example, are known to have strong allegiances with each other and are sometimes willing to extend those connections to humans in multi-species friendships.
As for Valerie, she did make "her little happy sounds" when reunited with her humans. But she might look back with nostalgia to her 529 days of freedom on Kangaroo Island.
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Our pampered pets might be better off without us
Pet-keeping is often promoted for the benefits it brings humans. A close association with another animal can provide us with a sense of purpose and a daily dose of joy. It can aid our health, make us more conscientious and even help us form relationships with other humans. But the situation is perhaps not as rosy for the animal itself. Domesticated animals often live longer than their free-living counterparts, but the quality of those lives can be compromised. Pets can be fed processed foods that can lead to obesity. Many are denied a sexual life and experience of parenthood. Exercise can be limited, isolation is common and boredom must be endured. In the worst cases, pets suffer due to selective breeding practices, physical abuse and unethical commercial breeding. Is this the best life for the species we feel closest to? This question was raised for me when I heard the story of Valerie, the dachshund recaptured in April this year after almost 18 months living on her own on South Australia's Karta Pintingga/Kangaroo Island. Valerie, a miniature dachshund, escaped into the bush during a camping trip on Kangaroo Island in November 2023. After several days of searching, her bereft humans returned to their home in NSW. They assumed the tiny dog, who had lived her life as a "little princess", was gone forever. Fast-forward a year, and sightings were reported on the island of a small dog wearing a pink collar. Word spread and volunteers renewed the search. A wildlife rescue group designed a purpose-built trap, fitting it out with items from Valerie's former home. After several weeks, a remotely controlled gate clattered shut behind Valerie and she was caught. Cue great celebrations. The searchers were triumphant and the family was delighted. Social media lit up. It was a canine reenactment of one of settler Australia's enduring narratives: the lost child rescued from the hostile bush. But imagine if Valerie's story was told from a more dog-centred perspective. Valerie found herself alone in a strange place and took the opportunity to run away. She embarked on a new life in which she was responsible for herself and could exercise the intelligence inherited from her boar-hunting ancestors. No longer required to be a good girl, Valerie applied her own judgement - that notorious dachshund "stubbornness" - to evade predators, fill her stomach and pass her days. Some commentators assumed Valerie must have been fed by anonymous benefactors - reflecting a widely held view that pets have limited abilities. Veterinary experts, however, said her diet likely consisted of small birds, mammals and reptiles she killed herself - as well as roadkill, other carrion and faeces. Valerie was clearly good at life on the lam. Unlike the human competitors in the series Alone Australia, she did not waste away when left in an island wilderness. Instead, she gained 1.8 kilograms of muscle - and was so stocky she no longer fit the old harness her humans brought to collect her. She had literally outgrown her former bonds. Valerie could have sought shelter with the island's humans at any time, but chose not to. She had to be actively trapped. Once returned to her humans, she needed time to reacclimatise to life as a pet. Not all missing pets thrive in the wild. But all this raises the question of whether Valerie's rescue would be better understood as a forced return from a full life of freedom, to a diminished existence in captivity? Other examples exist which suggest an animal's best life can take place outside the constraints of being a pet. Exotic parrots have fled lives in cages to form urban flocks. In the United States, 25 species initially imported as pets have set up self-sustaining, free-living populations across 23 states. Or take the red-eared slider turtle, which is native to parts of the US and Mexico. It's illegal to keep the turtles as pets in Australia, but some of those smuggled in have later been released into urban wetlands where they have established large and widespread populations. Cats are perhaps the most notorious example of escaped pets thriving on their own in Australia. They numbers in the millions, in habitats from cities to the Simpson Desert to the Snowy Mountains, showing how little they need human assistance. One mark of their success is their prodigious size. At up to 7 kilograms, free-living cats can be more than twice the weight of the average domestic cat. Around the world, exotic former companion mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and insects have all established populations large enough to pose problems for other species. Of course, I am not advocating that pets be released to the wild, creating new problems. But I do believe current pet-keeping practices are due for reconsideration. A dramatic solution would be to take the animal out of the pet relationship. Social robots that look like seals and teddy bears are already available to welcome you home, mirror your emotions and offer up cuddles without the cost to other animals. A less radical option is to rethink the idea of animals as "pets" and instead see them as equals. Some people already enjoy these unforced bonds. Magpies, for example, are known to have strong allegiances with each other and are sometimes willing to extend those connections to humans in multi-species friendships. As for Valerie, she did make "her little happy sounds" when reunited with her humans. But she might look back with nostalgia to her 529 days of freedom on Kangaroo Island. Pet-keeping is often promoted for the benefits it brings humans. A close association with another animal can provide us with a sense of purpose and a daily dose of joy. It can aid our health, make us more conscientious and even help us form relationships with other humans. But the situation is perhaps not as rosy for the animal itself. Domesticated animals often live longer than their free-living counterparts, but the quality of those lives can be compromised. Pets can be fed processed foods that can lead to obesity. Many are denied a sexual life and experience of parenthood. Exercise can be limited, isolation is common and boredom must be endured. In the worst cases, pets suffer due to selective breeding practices, physical abuse and unethical commercial breeding. Is this the best life for the species we feel closest to? This question was raised for me when I heard the story of Valerie, the dachshund recaptured in April this year after almost 18 months living on her own on South Australia's Karta Pintingga/Kangaroo Island. Valerie, a miniature dachshund, escaped into the bush during a camping trip on Kangaroo Island in November 2023. After several days of searching, her bereft humans returned to their home in NSW. They assumed the tiny dog, who had lived her life as a "little princess", was gone forever. Fast-forward a year, and sightings were reported on the island of a small dog wearing a pink collar. Word spread and volunteers renewed the search. A wildlife rescue group designed a purpose-built trap, fitting it out with items from Valerie's former home. After several weeks, a remotely controlled gate clattered shut behind Valerie and she was caught. Cue great celebrations. The searchers were triumphant and the family was delighted. Social media lit up. It was a canine reenactment of one of settler Australia's enduring narratives: the lost child rescued from the hostile bush. But imagine if Valerie's story was told from a more dog-centred perspective. Valerie found herself alone in a strange place and took the opportunity to run away. She embarked on a new life in which she was responsible for herself and could exercise the intelligence inherited from her boar-hunting ancestors. No longer required to be a good girl, Valerie applied her own judgement - that notorious dachshund "stubbornness" - to evade predators, fill her stomach and pass her days. Some commentators assumed Valerie must have been fed by anonymous benefactors - reflecting a widely held view that pets have limited abilities. Veterinary experts, however, said her diet likely consisted of small birds, mammals and reptiles she killed herself - as well as roadkill, other carrion and faeces. Valerie was clearly good at life on the lam. Unlike the human competitors in the series Alone Australia, she did not waste away when left in an island wilderness. Instead, she gained 1.8 kilograms of muscle - and was so stocky she no longer fit the old harness her humans brought to collect her. She had literally outgrown her former bonds. Valerie could have sought shelter with the island's humans at any time, but chose not to. She had to be actively trapped. Once returned to her humans, she needed time to reacclimatise to life as a pet. Not all missing pets thrive in the wild. But all this raises the question of whether Valerie's rescue would be better understood as a forced return from a full life of freedom, to a diminished existence in captivity? Other examples exist which suggest an animal's best life can take place outside the constraints of being a pet. Exotic parrots have fled lives in cages to form urban flocks. In the United States, 25 species initially imported as pets have set up self-sustaining, free-living populations across 23 states. Or take the red-eared slider turtle, which is native to parts of the US and Mexico. It's illegal to keep the turtles as pets in Australia, but some of those smuggled in have later been released into urban wetlands where they have established large and widespread populations. Cats are perhaps the most notorious example of escaped pets thriving on their own in Australia. They numbers in the millions, in habitats from cities to the Simpson Desert to the Snowy Mountains, showing how little they need human assistance. One mark of their success is their prodigious size. At up to 7 kilograms, free-living cats can be more than twice the weight of the average domestic cat. Around the world, exotic former companion mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and insects have all established populations large enough to pose problems for other species. Of course, I am not advocating that pets be released to the wild, creating new problems. But I do believe current pet-keeping practices are due for reconsideration. A dramatic solution would be to take the animal out of the pet relationship. Social robots that look like seals and teddy bears are already available to welcome you home, mirror your emotions and offer up cuddles without the cost to other animals. A less radical option is to rethink the idea of animals as "pets" and instead see them as equals. Some people already enjoy these unforced bonds. Magpies, for example, are known to have strong allegiances with each other and are sometimes willing to extend those connections to humans in multi-species friendships. As for Valerie, she did make "her little happy sounds" when reunited with her humans. But she might look back with nostalgia to her 529 days of freedom on Kangaroo Island. Pet-keeping is often promoted for the benefits it brings humans. A close association with another animal can provide us with a sense of purpose and a daily dose of joy. It can aid our health, make us more conscientious and even help us form relationships with other humans. But the situation is perhaps not as rosy for the animal itself. Domesticated animals often live longer than their free-living counterparts, but the quality of those lives can be compromised. Pets can be fed processed foods that can lead to obesity. Many are denied a sexual life and experience of parenthood. Exercise can be limited, isolation is common and boredom must be endured. In the worst cases, pets suffer due to selective breeding practices, physical abuse and unethical commercial breeding. Is this the best life for the species we feel closest to? This question was raised for me when I heard the story of Valerie, the dachshund recaptured in April this year after almost 18 months living on her own on South Australia's Karta Pintingga/Kangaroo Island. Valerie, a miniature dachshund, escaped into the bush during a camping trip on Kangaroo Island in November 2023. After several days of searching, her bereft humans returned to their home in NSW. They assumed the tiny dog, who had lived her life as a "little princess", was gone forever. Fast-forward a year, and sightings were reported on the island of a small dog wearing a pink collar. Word spread and volunteers renewed the search. A wildlife rescue group designed a purpose-built trap, fitting it out with items from Valerie's former home. After several weeks, a remotely controlled gate clattered shut behind Valerie and she was caught. Cue great celebrations. The searchers were triumphant and the family was delighted. Social media lit up. It was a canine reenactment of one of settler Australia's enduring narratives: the lost child rescued from the hostile bush. But imagine if Valerie's story was told from a more dog-centred perspective. Valerie found herself alone in a strange place and took the opportunity to run away. She embarked on a new life in which she was responsible for herself and could exercise the intelligence inherited from her boar-hunting ancestors. No longer required to be a good girl, Valerie applied her own judgement - that notorious dachshund "stubbornness" - to evade predators, fill her stomach and pass her days. Some commentators assumed Valerie must have been fed by anonymous benefactors - reflecting a widely held view that pets have limited abilities. Veterinary experts, however, said her diet likely consisted of small birds, mammals and reptiles she killed herself - as well as roadkill, other carrion and faeces. Valerie was clearly good at life on the lam. Unlike the human competitors in the series Alone Australia, she did not waste away when left in an island wilderness. Instead, she gained 1.8 kilograms of muscle - and was so stocky she no longer fit the old harness her humans brought to collect her. She had literally outgrown her former bonds. Valerie could have sought shelter with the island's humans at any time, but chose not to. She had to be actively trapped. Once returned to her humans, she needed time to reacclimatise to life as a pet. Not all missing pets thrive in the wild. But all this raises the question of whether Valerie's rescue would be better understood as a forced return from a full life of freedom, to a diminished existence in captivity? Other examples exist which suggest an animal's best life can take place outside the constraints of being a pet. Exotic parrots have fled lives in cages to form urban flocks. In the United States, 25 species initially imported as pets have set up self-sustaining, free-living populations across 23 states. Or take the red-eared slider turtle, which is native to parts of the US and Mexico. It's illegal to keep the turtles as pets in Australia, but some of those smuggled in have later been released into urban wetlands where they have established large and widespread populations. Cats are perhaps the most notorious example of escaped pets thriving on their own in Australia. They numbers in the millions, in habitats from cities to the Simpson Desert to the Snowy Mountains, showing how little they need human assistance. One mark of their success is their prodigious size. At up to 7 kilograms, free-living cats can be more than twice the weight of the average domestic cat. Around the world, exotic former companion mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and insects have all established populations large enough to pose problems for other species. Of course, I am not advocating that pets be released to the wild, creating new problems. But I do believe current pet-keeping practices are due for reconsideration. A dramatic solution would be to take the animal out of the pet relationship. Social robots that look like seals and teddy bears are already available to welcome you home, mirror your emotions and offer up cuddles without the cost to other animals. A less radical option is to rethink the idea of animals as "pets" and instead see them as equals. Some people already enjoy these unforced bonds. Magpies, for example, are known to have strong allegiances with each other and are sometimes willing to extend those connections to humans in multi-species friendships. As for Valerie, she did make "her little happy sounds" when reunited with her humans. But she might look back with nostalgia to her 529 days of freedom on Kangaroo Island. Pet-keeping is often promoted for the benefits it brings humans. A close association with another animal can provide us with a sense of purpose and a daily dose of joy. It can aid our health, make us more conscientious and even help us form relationships with other humans. But the situation is perhaps not as rosy for the animal itself. Domesticated animals often live longer than their free-living counterparts, but the quality of those lives can be compromised. Pets can be fed processed foods that can lead to obesity. Many are denied a sexual life and experience of parenthood. Exercise can be limited, isolation is common and boredom must be endured. In the worst cases, pets suffer due to selective breeding practices, physical abuse and unethical commercial breeding. Is this the best life for the species we feel closest to? This question was raised for me when I heard the story of Valerie, the dachshund recaptured in April this year after almost 18 months living on her own on South Australia's Karta Pintingga/Kangaroo Island. Valerie, a miniature dachshund, escaped into the bush during a camping trip on Kangaroo Island in November 2023. After several days of searching, her bereft humans returned to their home in NSW. They assumed the tiny dog, who had lived her life as a "little princess", was gone forever. Fast-forward a year, and sightings were reported on the island of a small dog wearing a pink collar. Word spread and volunteers renewed the search. A wildlife rescue group designed a purpose-built trap, fitting it out with items from Valerie's former home. After several weeks, a remotely controlled gate clattered shut behind Valerie and she was caught. Cue great celebrations. The searchers were triumphant and the family was delighted. Social media lit up. It was a canine reenactment of one of settler Australia's enduring narratives: the lost child rescued from the hostile bush. But imagine if Valerie's story was told from a more dog-centred perspective. Valerie found herself alone in a strange place and took the opportunity to run away. She embarked on a new life in which she was responsible for herself and could exercise the intelligence inherited from her boar-hunting ancestors. No longer required to be a good girl, Valerie applied her own judgement - that notorious dachshund "stubbornness" - to evade predators, fill her stomach and pass her days. Some commentators assumed Valerie must have been fed by anonymous benefactors - reflecting a widely held view that pets have limited abilities. Veterinary experts, however, said her diet likely consisted of small birds, mammals and reptiles she killed herself - as well as roadkill, other carrion and faeces. Valerie was clearly good at life on the lam. Unlike the human competitors in the series Alone Australia, she did not waste away when left in an island wilderness. Instead, she gained 1.8 kilograms of muscle - and was so stocky she no longer fit the old harness her humans brought to collect her. She had literally outgrown her former bonds. Valerie could have sought shelter with the island's humans at any time, but chose not to. She had to be actively trapped. Once returned to her humans, she needed time to reacclimatise to life as a pet. Not all missing pets thrive in the wild. But all this raises the question of whether Valerie's rescue would be better understood as a forced return from a full life of freedom, to a diminished existence in captivity? Other examples exist which suggest an animal's best life can take place outside the constraints of being a pet. Exotic parrots have fled lives in cages to form urban flocks. In the United States, 25 species initially imported as pets have set up self-sustaining, free-living populations across 23 states. Or take the red-eared slider turtle, which is native to parts of the US and Mexico. It's illegal to keep the turtles as pets in Australia, but some of those smuggled in have later been released into urban wetlands where they have established large and widespread populations. Cats are perhaps the most notorious example of escaped pets thriving on their own in Australia. They numbers in the millions, in habitats from cities to the Simpson Desert to the Snowy Mountains, showing how little they need human assistance. One mark of their success is their prodigious size. At up to 7 kilograms, free-living cats can be more than twice the weight of the average domestic cat. Around the world, exotic former companion mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and insects have all established populations large enough to pose problems for other species. Of course, I am not advocating that pets be released to the wild, creating new problems. But I do believe current pet-keeping practices are due for reconsideration. A dramatic solution would be to take the animal out of the pet relationship. Social robots that look like seals and teddy bears are already available to welcome you home, mirror your emotions and offer up cuddles without the cost to other animals. A less radical option is to rethink the idea of animals as "pets" and instead see them as equals. Some people already enjoy these unforced bonds. Magpies, for example, are known to have strong allegiances with each other and are sometimes willing to extend those connections to humans in multi-species friendships. As for Valerie, she did make "her little happy sounds" when reunited with her humans. But she might look back with nostalgia to her 529 days of freedom on Kangaroo Island.
SBS Australia
04-06-2025
- SBS Australia
The winner of Alone Australia Season 3 has been revealed
Cast of Alone Australia season 3. Credit: Narelle Portanier The following article contains spoilers for the third season of Alone Australia season 3. If you haven't seen the exciting finale, it isn't too late to watch now. 30-year-old professional trapper, Shay has become the winner of Alone Australia Season 3 after surviving a record-setting 76 days in the unpredictable and unforgiving wilds of the West Coast Ranges of Tasmania (lutruwita). The shy and soft-spoken North Island New Zealander battled the merciless forces of nature, hunger, and loneliness while stripped of modern possessions, contact and comforts, and outlasted nine other trailblazing participants to win the life-changing prize of $250,000. While Shay has trapped possums since he was 16, the Tasmanian wildlife at first proved elusive, forcing him to survive on more creative sources of food: over 1100 worms, 23 trout, 13 eels, 2 whitebait and freshwater shrimp, grubs, and 'cheese fries' (moth pupae). Nothing was off the menu for Shay and his resilience paid off in a final, game-changing twist – his capture of a pademelon. For Shay, Alone Australia was more than an adventure or an opportunity to find himself: it was a chance to secure a debt-free future for his young family. Coming into the competition, he vowed he'd do whatever it took – even lasting 300 days – to win. No matter the storms, floods, or homesickness, he was willing to sacrifice everything to make it to the end. For him and his family, the prize is a dream come true. Shay said: 'Living in the bush and off the land has been my life's passion since I was a kid. I built my life around the bush back home and became intimately connected to the land I come from, learning how our ancestors gathered food and lived in nature. I got the opportunity out there to put all that to the test, in a completely foreign environment. Mother Nature's Colosseum. I tasted hard times and joyful times as I clawed out the other side and figured out where I could fit in, sustainably live, even forever out there, if need be. I'll always be grateful for the opportunity to help my family in this way, doing what I love for the people I love.' Alone Australia embodies SBS's trailblazing ethos of embracing challenges, pushing boundaries and inspiring with bold storytelling that entertains. Alone Australia remains SBS' most successful franchise, with over 3.5 million viewers1 enjoying this season so far, with 41%2 streaming on SBS on Demand. In the double episode finale, after 47 days, three participants remained – Food Safety Consultant, Corinne, Bushman Muzza and Shay. They all pushed themselves to their personal limits, forced to adapt to the wild will of nature, in the hope of being the last one standing. Corinne tapped out on her own terms after 70 days. With nothing left to prove to herself, she felt the call to return to her life and pursue her dream of starting a family. With a beautiful musical performance on a wooden guitar she crafted, Corinne wore her heart on her sleeve. She sang, 'My next chapter in life is waiting for me back home.' Muzza had a highly successful run of catches throughout the season but began to experience dizzy spells and after a med-check, dangerously low blood pressure made medically evacuating Muzza the only safe choice. In a heart-wrenching moment, Muzza was brought to tears. 'I promised myself I'd trust the doctor's judgement.' He left with no regrets, and his trademark humour: '73 days… Can't believe I never got sick of eels.' In a shocking twist, Shay caught a pademelon and found himself feasting on red meat (and pademelon genitals!) late in the competition. Yet his pot soon ran dry and worries about losing a quarter of his body weight had the medical crew warn him that he required more frequent med-checks. On day 76, Shay was visited by the medical team, where he expected a health update. Instead, he was surprised by the secret arrival of his wife, who cried, 'You did it! So proud of you.' In a heartwarming embrace, Shay was left beaming and in disbelief. 'I can't believe it! From day one, I've been saying, I want to come home with that money, no matter how long that takes, no matter how difficult it might get. $250K is life-changing for our family. Now I get to go home to my little slice of paradise.' Off the back of the season finale, SBS premiered a special one-hour reunion program Alone Australia Season 3: The Reunion . Hosted by SBS's Kumi Taguchi (Insight), a self-confessed fan, the entire cast reunited for the first time since they were dropped into the remote wilds of the West Coast Ranges of Tasmania/lutruwita, in what was an emotional, hilarious, and truly insightful conversation with unexpected revelations and never-before-seen footage. All episodes of Alone Australia Season 3 and Alone Australia Season 3: The Reunion are now streaming on SBS On Demand. Share this with family and friends SBS's award winning companion podcast. Join host Yumi Stynes for Seen, a new SBS podcast about cultural creatives who have risen to excellence despite a role-model vacuum.
Sydney Morning Herald
04-06-2025
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘I was eating eel gills': How a Kiwi trapper conquered Alone Australia
Shay Williamson is the winner of the third season of Alone Australia. He stayed 76 days in the bush in south-western Tasmania, a new record for the Australian version of the show, and the sixth-longest across all versions (the record stands at 101 days in season seven of the American series). The 30-year-old New Zealander, who spent his teens trapping possums in the wild for their fur and now works as a cattle farmer when not making bush survival videos for his Keeping It Wild channel on YouTube, beat Corinne Ooms, who tapped out after 70 days, and Murray 'Muzza' James, who lasted 73 days and at 63 was the oldest contestant on the Australian series yet. Williamson spoke with Karl Quinn the day after filming the reunion special for SBS. First of all, Shay, let me just say congratulations. Oh, thank you. Yeah, I feel pretty excited about it. Well, you say that, but when your partner came out to greet you at the end you didn't give much away or say a lot. What was going on for you at that moment? I was just a bit lost for words. I'm not a big talker anyway. I just wanted to give her a hug, really. It was a huge feeling of relief more than anything in that moment, that it all worked out and I got to go home. I wasn't desperate to go, though. I was going to stay until I couldn't any more, and I was working my way through 10-day blocks. At that point, I had food until day 80, and I was focusing on getting food until day 90, and then it would have been food until day 100. But I was missing the family more and more every day, so the sooner the better, in my mind. When you first went in, you talked about 300 days as a target. I know towards the end you said that was only ever a motivational thing, but did you ever think you could actually stay out there that long? I think if the food had stayed the way it was in those last couple of weeks I could have done it. I'd reached a point of being sustainable out there, which I didn't actually think I'd do. But things are changing all the time in nature, and there's no guarantee the food situation would have stayed as good as it was. So there's no way of knowing whether that would have happened or not. What was the hardest thing – the physical conditions, the lack of food, or was it just missing the family? It's hard to differentiate the physical and the mental because it's all kind of linked up. The physical conditions were really tough – like, they were pretty extreme, the worst weather I've ever encountered, and the toll that takes on your body as well. And the mental strain of living paycheck to paycheck food-wise for that long definitely knocks you around. It's hard to put my finger on what was harder, but missing the family and not knowing when I'd get to go home was probably the trickiest thing mentally to deal with because it was just an unknown, and I had to accept that it was out of my hands, basically. Loading Has this experience changed the way you think about the bush, the environment, in any way? Yeah, it's changed the way I think about humans and our connection. Before I had quite a practical view of our place in nature. Now, I've got a bit more of a spiritual one, almost. I think about the instinctual side of things a bit more now; I got more in tune with my instincts out there a couple of times. I can't really explain why I knew certain things were going to happen, but they did, things like the lake water. I was worried about it rising a second time, and then one day I woke up and I just wasn't worried at all, and then the next day it went down a metre, and I knew that was going to happen. It was really weird. Catching the all-important pademelon, that seems to have been a moment that was driven by instinct. Yeah, and that was really strange, too, because that day I was eating eel gills, and normally they don't taste good, they're kind of bloody, but I was really liking them. And I said to the camera, 'It's almost like I'm craving iron'. And then that night I got this huge injection of red meat, almost like divine intervention. It was weird. Are you a religious or spiritual guy, generally? No, not at all. Not at all. What does winning the $250,00 mean for you? Loading It will just take the pressure off. It means we can get our family where we want it quicker, and prioritise what we value more, spending time with the family and not being stressed about money all the time. We've just bought a house with a mortgage in the Bay of Plenty [in New Zealand's North Island], so this will cut a huge part of the mortgage off. It's a massive gift to have that weight lifted. What about the bush – have you seen enough of it for a while or are you keen to get back out there? I'm chomping at the bit to get back out and take the family with me, ideally. I've probably got more motivation now to share the bush with the family. The kids are two and four and they already know quite a few edible plants, they know a couple of poisonous ones. It's pretty cool. You've just filmed the reunion special with the other nine contestants. Doing this show is such an isolated experience, but you all had a version of that same experience; it must be special to be able to finally share it. Yeah, it's been awesome to unpack it with the others, to talk about our experiences because we're the only ones that really understand it on the same wavelength because it's such a unique experience. It's been awesome to share with them and I think we'll all be keeping in touch and be friends for life.
