
Australian State culls 700 starving koalas after bushfire, stoking controversy
The cull became public on Good Friday after local wildlife carers were reportedly tipped off.
A fire burned about 20% of the park in mid-March. The government said the cull was urgent because koalas had been left starving or burned.
Wildlife groups have expressed serious concern about how individual koalas had been chosen for culling, because the animals are assessed from a distance. It's not clear how shooting from a helicopter complies with the state government's own animal welfare and response plans for wildlife in disasters.
The Victorian government must explain why it is undertaking aerial culling and why it did so without announcing it publicly. The incident points to ongoing failures in managing these iconic marsupials, which are already threatened in other states.
Why did this happen?
Koalas live in eucalypt forests in Australia's eastern and southern states. The species faces a double threat from habitat destruction and bushfire risk. They are considered endangered in New South Wales, Queensland and the Australian Capital Territory.
In Victoria, koala population levels are currently secure. But they are densely concentrated, often in fragments of bush known as 'habitat islands' in the state's southwest. Budj Bim National Park is one of these islands.
Over time, this concentration becomes a problem. When the koalas are too abundant, they can strip leaves from their favourite gums, killing the trees. The koalas must then move or risk starvation.
If fire or drought make these habitat islands impossible to live in, koalas in dense concentrations often have nowhere to go.
In Budj Bim, Victoria's Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action and Parks Victoria have tackled koala overpopulation alongside Traditional Owners by moving koalas to new locations or sterilising them.
But Budj Bim is also surrounded by commercial blue gum plantations. Koalas spread out through the plantations to graze on the leaves. Their populations grow. But when the plantations are logged, some koalas have to return to the national park, where food may be in short supply.
Animal welfare groups say logging is one reason Budj Bim had so many koalas.
It's hard to say definitively whether this is the case, because the state environment department hasn't shared much information. But researchers have found habitat islands lead to overabundance by preventing the natural dispersal of individuals.
So why was the culling done? Department officials have described the program as 'primarily' motivated by animal welfare. After the bushfire last month, koalas have been left starving or injured.
Why shooters in helicopters? Here, the justification given is that the national park is difficult to access due to rocky terrain and fire damage, ruling out other methods.
Euthanising wildlife
Under Victoria's plan for animal welfare during disasters, the environment department is responsible for examining and, where necessary, euthanising wildlife during an emergency.
For human intervention to be justified, euthanasia must be necessary on welfare grounds. Victoria's response plan for fire-affected wildlife says culling is permitted when an animal's health is 'significantly' compromised, invasive treatment is required, or survival is unlikely.
For koalas, this could mean loss of digits or hands, burns to more than 15% of the body, pneumonia from smoke inhalation, or blindness or injuries requiring surgery. Euthanised females must also be promptly examined for young in their pouches.
The problem is that while aerial shooting can be accurate in some cases for larger animals, the method has questionable efficacy for smaller animals – especially in denser habitats.
It's likely a number of koalas were seriously injured but not killed. But the shooters employed by the department were not able to thoroughly verify injuries or whether there were joeys in pouches, because they were in the air and reportedly 30 or more metres away from their targets.
While the department cited concerns about food resources as a reason for the cull, the state's wildlife fire plan lays out another option: delivery of supplementary feed. Delivering fresh gum leaves could potentially have prevented starvation while the forest regenerates.
Lessons for the government
The state government should take steps to avoid tragic incidents like this from happening again.
Preserving remaining habitat across the state is a vital step, as is reconnecting isolated areas with habitat corridors. This would not only reduce the concentration of koalas in small pockets but increase viable refuges and give koalas safe paths to new food sources after a fire.
Future policies should be developed in consultation with Traditional Owners, who have detailed knowledge of species distributions and landscapes.
We need better ways to help wildlife in disasters. One step would be bringing wildlife rescue organisations into emergency management more broadly, as emphasised in the 2009 Victorian Bushfires Royal Commission and the more recent Royal Commission into National Natural Disaster Arrangements.
This latter report pointed to South Australia's specialised emergency animal rescue and relief organisation – SAVEM – as an effective model. Under SA's emergency management plan, the organisation is able to rapidly access burned areas after the fire has passed through.
Victoria's dense communities of koalas would be well served by a similar organisation able to work alongside existing skilled firefighting services.
The goal would be to make it possible for rescuers to get to injured wildlife earlier and avoid any more mass aerial culls.
Liz Hicks is Lecturer in Law, University of Melbourne. Ashleigh Best is Barrister, Victorian Bar and Honorary Fellow, Melbourne Law School, University of Melbourne. This article is republished from The Conversation.

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Time of India
2 days ago
- Time of India
Ireland's chamber of horrors: 800 babies buried in old septic tank; house was run by nuns
This is a representative AI image In a grim reminder of Ireland's haunting past, a mass grave containing the remains of up to 800 infants and young children is now being excavated at the site of a former mother and baby home, where today, only a single stone wall remains. Once run by Catholic nuns in a quiet Irish town, the institution's buried secrets are forcing the nation to reckon with decades of mistreatment and neglect of unmarried mothers and their children, many of whom were reportedly laid to rest in a disused septic tank, the New York Post reported. The burial site is located on the grounds of a former institution run by the Bon Secours Sisters, a Catholic order of nuns, and has become a powerful symbol of Ireland's dark history of institutional abuse. For decades, unmarried mothers were hidden away in such homes, their children taken from them and left vulnerable to neglect and mistreatment. The existence of the grave first came to light over 50 years ago when two boys stumbled across skeletal remains. But the full scale of the tragedy didn't emerge until 2014, when local historian Catherine Corless uncovered disturbing records showing that 796 children who died at the home were never properly accounted for. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Profit Trick - Read More vividtrendlab Click Here Undo Her research revealed that the remains were likely buried beneath the grounds, specifically inside a defunct sewage tank. Corless's revelations made global headlines and shocked the nation. Test excavations later confirmed the presence of numerous tiny skeletons inside the tank. Then-Prime Minister Enda Kenny described the site as a 'chamber of horrors,' sparking national outrage. Earlier, Pope Francis had publicly apologised for the Catholic Church's role in the abuse, including the forced separation of mothers and children. The Bon Secours nuns also issued a rare apology, admitting they had failed to uphold Christian values in their care of vulnerable women and children. The mother and baby homes weren't unique to Ireland—they were part of a wider Victorian-era practice of institutionalizing the poor, unmarried mothers, and vulnerable children. The Tuam home, in particular, was harsh, overcrowded, and deadly. Women were forced to work there for up to a year before being sent away—usually without their children. Accordin to the New York Post, Historian Catherine Corless' research into Tuam led to a major government investigation, which revealed that 9,000 children about 15% died in such homes across Ireland during the 20th century. Tuam, which operated from 1925 to 1961, recorded the highest death rate. Corless said her determination to uncover the truth grew stronger as she learned more. 'The more I realized how those poor, unfortunate, vulnerable kids, through no fault of their own, had to go through this life,' she added. Her research united survivors with relatives who discovered their mothers had given birth to siblings who died in these institutions. Annette McKay noted persistent denial regarding sexual abuse, rape, and incest that led women to these homes, whilst fathers avoided accountability. "They say things like the women were incarcerated and enslaved for being pregnant," McKay told the Post. "Well, how did they get pregnant? Was it like an immaculate conception?" Her mother entered the home after experiencing sexual assault as a teenager by an industrial school caretaker, where she had been placed for "delinquency" following her mother's death and father's abandonment. Margaret "Maggie" O'Connor had earlier revealed this secret only in her seventies, breaking down whilst sharing her story. In 1942, six months post-childbirth at Tuam, whilst at another facility, a nun informed O'Connor, "the child of your sin is dead." She maintained silence afterwards. Two decades later, McKay spotted a newspaper headline about a "shock discovery" in Tuam. The list included her sister, Mary Margaret O'Connor, deceased in 1943. Barbara Buckley, born at Tuam in 1957, was adopted by a Cork family at 19 months. She learned of her adoption in adulthood through a cousin and later located her birth mother via an agency. Her mother visited from London in 2000, coincidentally during Buckley's birthday, unaware of the date's significance. "I found it very hard to understand, how did she not know it was my birthday?" Buckley said. "Delving deep into the thoughts of the mothers, you know, they put it so far back. They weren't dealing with it anymore." Her mother worked in the laundry for a year before being dismissed, despite requesting to stay. She remembered only glimpses of sky above high walls. Upon departing, her mother announced she wouldn't return, citing secrecy concerns. "She said, 'I don't want anyone finding out about this,'" Buckley said, the New York Post reported. "Going back to 1957 — and it was still a dark secret," Buckley added. Pete Cochran considers himself fortunate, having been adopted at 16 months by an American family, avoiding the stigma associated with illegitimacy in Ireland. "I hope they don't find 796 bodies," he said. "That all these children were adopted and had a good life like I did."


News18
2 days ago
- News18
‘Chamber of horrors being exhumed at Ireland mass baby grave
Agency: PTI Tuam (Ireland), Jul 31 (AP) Only one stone wall remains of the old mother and baby home in this town, but it has cast a shadow over all of Ireland. A mass grave that could hold up to nearly 800 infants and young children — some of it in a defunct septic tank — is being excavated on the grounds of the former home run by the Bon Secours Sisters, an order of nuns. The burial site has forced Ireland and the Catholic Church — long central to its identity — to reckon with a legacy of having shunned unmarried mothers and separated them from their children, left at the mercy of a cruel system. The grave was accidentally discovered by two boys a half-century ago. But the true horror of the place was not known until a local historian began digging into the home's history. Catherine Corless revealed that the site was atop a septic tank and that 796 deceased infants were unaccounted for. Her findings caused a scandal when the international news media wrote about her work in 2014. When test excavations later confirmed an untold number of tiny skeletons were in the sewage pit, then-Prime Minister Enda Kenny called it a 'chamber of horrors." Pope Francis later apologised for the church's 'crimes" that included forced separations of unwed mothers and children. The nuns apologised for not living up to their Christianity. A cold, cramped and deadly place The homes were not unique to Ireland and followed a Victorian-era practice of institutionalising the poor, troubled and neglected children, and unmarried mothers. The Tuam home was cold, crowded and deadly. Mothers worked there for up to a year before being cast out — almost always without their children. Corless' report led to a government investigation that found 9,000 children, or 15 per cent, died in mother and baby homes in the 20th century. The Tuam home — open from 1925 to 1961 — had the highest death rate. Corless said she was driven to expose the story, 'the more I realised how those poor, unfortunate, vulnerable kids, through no fault of their own, had to go through this life." Discovering deeply held secrets Corless's work brought together survivors of the homes and children who discovered their own mothers had given birth to long-lost relatives who died there. Annette McKay said there's still a level of denial about the abuse, rape and incest that led some women to the homes while fathers were not held accountable. 'They say things like the women were incarcerated and enslaved for being pregnant," McKay said. 'Well, how did they get pregnant? Was it like an immaculate conception?" Her mother ended up in the home after being raped as a teenager by the caretaker of the industrial school where she had been sentenced for 'delinquency" after her mother died and her father, a British soldier, abdicated responsibility. Her mother, Margaret 'Maggie" O'Connor, only revealed her secret when she was in her 70s, sobbing hysterically when the story finally came out. Six months after giving birth in Tuam in 1942, O'Connor was hanging laundry at another home where she had been transferred when a nun told her, 'The child of your sin is dead." She never spoke of it again. Some 20 years later, a Sunday newspaper headline about a 'shock discovery" in Tuam caught McKay's attention. Among the names was her long-lost sister, Mary Margaret O'Connor, who died in 1943. Shame's long shadow Barbara Buckley was born in the Tuam home in 1957 and was 19 months old when she was adopted by a family in Cork. She was an adult when a cousin told her she'd been adopted and was later able to find her birth mother through an agency. Her mother came to visit from London for two days in 2000 and happened to be there on her 43rd birthday, though she didn't realise it. 'I found it very hard to understand how she did not know it was my birthday?" Buckley said. 'Delving deep into the thoughts of the mothers, you know, they put it so far back. They weren't dealing with it anymore." She said her mother had worked in the laundry and was sent away after a year, despite asking to stay longer. Her lasting memory of the place was only being able to see the sky above the high walls. At the end of their visit, her mother told her it had been lovely to meet her and her family, but said she'd never see her again. Buckley was devastated at the rejection and asked why. 'She said, 'I don't want anyone finding out about this,'" Buckley said. 'Going back to 1957 — and it was still a dark secret." Luck of the Irish Pete Cochran considers himself one of the lucky ones. He was 16 months old when he got out of the home and was adopted by a family in the US, where he avoided the stigma that would have dogged him as a so-called illegitimate child in his homeland. During his visit to Tuam before the dig began, a man from town told him at a bar: 'I respect you now, but growing up, I used to spit on you because that's what I was taught." Cochran hopes the dig turns up a few remains. 'I hope they don't find 796 bodies," he said. 'That all these children were adopted and had a good life like I did." McKay has had the same hope for her sister. But even if they found a thimble full of her remains, she'd like to reunite her with her mom, who died in 2016. 'The headstone hasn't got my mother's name on it because I fought everybody to say I refuse to put my mom's name on until she can have her child with her," McKay said. (AP) SKS GRS GRS (This story has not been edited by News18 staff and is published from a syndicated news agency feed - PTI) view comments First Published: July 31, 2025, 12:45 IST News agency-feeds 'Chamber of horrors being exhumed at Ireland mass baby grave Disclaimer: Comments reflect users' views, not News18's. Please keep discussions respectful and constructive. Abusive, defamatory, or illegal comments will be removed. News18 may disable any comment at its discretion. By posting, you agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.


Time of India
18-07-2025
- Time of India
Meet the Indian royal princess who became Queen Victoria's ‘goddaughter' but forgotten legacy of empire
Source: The Better India At just 11 years old, Princess Gouramma of Coorg became the goddaughter of Queen Victoria, symbolizing what many in Britain viewed as a triumph of empire and civilizing mission. But behind the fanfare was a much darker truth. Her life—rooted in royalty, torn by war, and reshaped by colonial expectations—ultimately became a somber lesson in cultural erasure. Born to the last king of Coorg, Gouramma's journey from South India to Victorian England was filled with symbolic conversions, emotional betrayals, and tragic isolation. Her story remains a powerful case study of how colonialism often demanded the costliest sacrifices from those it claimed to protect. Queen Victoria 's goddaughter Princess Gouramma's journey from Coorg royalty Princess Gouramma, daughter of Chikka Virarajendra, was born into the royal household of the Kodagu (Coorg) kingdom. Her privileged life came to an abrupt end in 1834 when the Coorg War resulted in her father's defeat and the annexation of the kingdom by the British East India Company. Branded a political prisoner, her father spent over a decade in exile in Benaras. In 1852, with dreams of justice and integration, the deposed king traveled to England with Gouramma. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Flexible MBA by SRM—Apply Now! SRM Online Apply Now Undo His aim: to seek restitution and secure his daughter's future. Their arrival marked a historical milestone—they became the first known Indian royals to visit Britain. The king prioritized finding protection for Gouramma in the Christian world, paving the way for her introduction into elite British society. Source: The Better India How Princess Gouramma became part of Queen Victoria's royal circle The young princess caught the attention of Queen Victoria, who formally baptized her and renamed her Victoria Gouramma of Coorg. While this adoption appeared as an embrace, it actually transformed her into a symbol of imperial conquest. Her conversion to Christianity and integration into aristocratic life were seen as the 'civilizing' of an exotic other—a living endorsement of the British imperial agenda. According to scholar Chandrica Barua, Gouramma's life was shaped more by cultural estrangement than courtly affection. Stripped of her language, identity, and heritage, she was groomed to fit Victorian norms. Raised under the guardianship of Major and Mrs. Drummond, she lost touch with Kannada and could no longer speak to her father. Queen Victoria's diaries, often referring to her as the 'poor little princess,' hinted at both affection and underlying racial condescension. Princess Gouramma's lonely marriage and fading royal dream in Victorian England Though celebrated in social circles for her manners and elegance, Gouramma never found true acceptance. Her godmother, Queen Victoria, tried to arrange a marriage between her and Maharaja Duleep Singh, another Indian royal raised under British influence. That union never materialized. Instead, Gouramma married Colonel John Campbell, a man nearly 50 years her senior—an arrangement that later revealed itself as more financial than affectionate. Her marriage brought little comfort. Gouramma, now a mother to a daughter named Edith, was left emotionally and physically alone. Campbell showed little interest in either her or their child. Health complications, particularly tuberculosis, began to take a toll. Historian Dr. Priya Atwal later revealed that Queen Victoria forbade Gouramma from seeing her father, fearing his 'heathen' influence—further severing the few ties she had to her past. Princess Victoria Gouramma's forgotten grave and the rediscovery of her legacy Victoria Gouramma died in 1864 at just 22 years old. Her passing was quiet, her grave in Brompton Cemetery overlooked for decades. Many believed her lineage ended there—until author C.P. Belliappa uncovered that Gouramma's descendants, including Robert Yardley, live on in Australia. Rare family photographs later surfaced, shared by a descendant of Colonel Campbell's first wife, restoring some humanity to a life so often told through colonial lenses. Princess Gouramma's story is not just a tragic tale of a displaced royal—it is a profound commentary on the costs of assimilation, the illusion of imperial acceptance, and the racialized hierarchy masked by politeness. Celebrated as a model of colonial success, she was ultimately abandoned by the very empire that had once championed her. Her legacy is a quiet warning about the price paid by those who are forced to trade identity for acceptance and heritage for survival. Also Read | Kristin Cabot's old LinkedIn post goes viral after Astronomer CEO Andy Byron caught in alleged affair at Coldplay concert; 'I win trust with CEOs…'