The Black Summer Bushfires of 2020- My experience as an Aussie vet

This isn’t a story of fighting for survival or heroically bandaging koala paws.

This is the honest account of my experiences. This was my summer spent as veterinarian in my rural Australian home town, on the outskirts of one of the worst fire zones in Australia’s recorded history.

I am one of the lucky ones. I lived in town, and despite some scary moments, my family and my home were never directly in danger. My story will never compare to those of who directly faced the flames and the devastation.

Instead, I want to share the sentiments of many of the ‘lucky’ Australians that summer, who were surrounded by chaos and tried every avenue to help.

The Spark

In November 2019, after four years of living abroad, I moved back to my home-town in rural Australia. I intended to have a quiet summer with my family. However, a lot of the local vet clinics were short-staffed, so instead I ended up taking on veterinary roles in three different vet clinics, as well as volunteering with a local wildlife shelter (you can read all about Kangaloola Wildlife Rescue here).

I was busy, but I could never have predicted how crazy that summer would become once the fires struck. And working in so many different settings gave me a unique insight into how the fires impacted different parts of Australian life.

So lets start with my time in rural Victoria.

One of the clinics where I took some veterinary shifts was in the beautiful farming community of Walwa in Victoria. Here’s a photo I took of the area on my first day of work in December 2019.

And here is the same street, just weeks later.

What Happened in the Countryside?

Living in country Australia, bushfires are something that everyone knows can happen- but hopes doesn’t happen to them. Farmers and property owners take year-round precautions to reduce the risk of fires over summer, but the summer of 2019 was on a different scale.

The bushfires that threatened the township of Walwa had started with lighting strikes in the hills, in the days before New Years Eve. The bushland was dry and ready to burn. Despite the best efforts of fire crews (some of whom lost their lives), the bushfire was unable to be brought under control.

Over the coming days, the fire front raced through national parks, and engulfed small towns one by one. It moved faster, and burned hotter, than anyone expected. Communications were quickly cut off when power lines and phone masts were charred, meaning that residents were unaware if the danger was coming their way, or which roads were safe if they were to flee.

In Australia, we’re taught that when there is a bushfire you must either leave your property early to get to safety, or stay to defend it with hoses and fire retardant. This is a complex decision to make, as by evacuating themselves to safety, many farming families faced losing their homes, their animals and their livelihoods. Many chose to stay on their properties. It was only later that we realised that this fire was not defensible. Many of those who stayed to protect their properties lost their lives along with their animals.

I was booked to work in Walwa on the 2^nd of January. We knew there were fires in the area, but there was no news about where exactly they were, or how severe. But when I phoned the clinic to ask if it was safe, the line was dead. There was no reception on my boss’ mobile phone. I sent emails that were not returned. I made the decision not to go.

Days later, my boss returned my call. He explained that the town had no power, and no phone reception, so he had had to drive up a hill to phone me and check his emails. The vet clinic had survived, but the surrounding farmland and homes had been decimated. The road that I had planned to take had also been charred- it was very lucky I hadn’t driven up. I offered to come to the clinic and help, and he said there would be no point- the clinic had no power so they couldn’t do much in the way of treatment. All there was left to do was put what little burnt stock there was remaining out of its misery.

What happened in the regional cities?

With working in Walwa out of the question, I remained in my home-town, and tried to do what I could from there. But it turned out to be complete chaos.

The regional centre where I stayed was large and fairly built up, so despite some scares, most of us were never directly threatened by the fires. However, the town was almost surrounded, with large fires burning to the north, the east and the south. As soon as one fire came under control, the next one would start. This had a variety of impact on our normal life.

The thick, eucalyptus-scented smoke started to settle over the town around new years eve, and didn’t lift for weeks. The summer sky was a permanent smog of yellow and brown. We had to stop exercising and going outside, but even indoors, many people developed coughs and had constantly burning eyes. The news reports said the air quality was the worse in the world, and we believed it- even breathing was unpleasant.

But this was nothing compared to the steady stream of people who fled into the town from their rural homes. The fire brigade had told dozens of townships that they must evacuate, placing their properties and livelihoods into the hands of the fire-fighters, many of whom were volunteers. Many local hotels offered their rooms to fleeing residents- however there wasn’t always a place for the pets that they brought with them.

And that meant, Monday morning in the animal hospital, the entire clinic was full of a menagerie of animals belonging to the evacuees. Every kennel was filled, and there were extra pet crates set up in spare rooms Those who could not take their animals into hotels had left them with us, and we were caring for them for free as best we could.

The next thing that happened in the vet clinic illustrates just how desperately the townsfolk wanted to help, and how quickly misinformation could spread

The Donations

On Monday morning, our clinic started to get donations. People came to the reception with towels, bedsheets, jars of honey and old bandages, and asked to donate them to ‘the injured animals’. The baffled reception staff explained we had no injured animals yet, but said sure. Soon they regretted it, when HUNDREDS of people turned up with more and more bags of donations! Every day for weeks, there was a constant stream of these odd donations- very few of which would actually have been helpful for an injured animal. The reception staff tried to donate this to the animal shelters, or animal wildlife rescuers, but were turned away. They started politely asking patrons to stop the donations, but were met with rudeness and aggression- how dare we not want their donations!

Soon, we had multiple consult rooms completely blocked by bags full of donations, with nowhere to take it. A social media campaign began to slate our hospital as uncaring, when word came that we didn’t want more donations. An unqualified local woman claimed she was going to rescue all the animals instead, and started asking the public for donations of veterinary supplies and restricted prescription drugs, painting herself as the heroine of the situation. When we suggested that what this woman was doing was illegal (you must be licensed and qualified to care for wildlife in Australia to ensure the safety of the animals), we were met with more hate. It was total madness.

Despite this craziness, we were open, and ready to treat with injured animals when they came in.

So how many bushfire injured patients did we receive at the hospital to treat?

Zero.

Despite working in the centre of a bushfire zone, I didn’t treat a single animal with burns for the whole summer. I saw one cat with asthma related to the smoke, and one dog with singed paw pads after he fled from a fire, but saving baby koalas with burned paws, we were not.

Here’s why.

What happened to the wildlife?

During the summer of 2019, I became a regular volunteer at Kangaloola Wildlife Sanctuary. This rural Victorian shelter rescues, rehabilitates and releases injured and orphaned wildlife back into the bush, and generally houses over 100 animals on site at any one time.

However, with its rustic setting among the gums trees of a national park, the risk of being affected by bushfires was extreme. We did our best to monitor the situation and ensure the safety of the animals- we stored water to spray over the roofs, and religiously swept away dead leaves to reduce fuel. We monitored the government ‘Fire Danger’ app constantly. But really, if a fire had wanted to burn through the sanctuary, there would be little we could do.

But Glenda, the founder, had a plan. 20 years prior, when Kangaloola was a smaller sanctuary, a bushfire had blazed through the surrounding forest with little warning. Glenda would never leave without her rescued animals, and instead, had carried the animals, two by two, to a nearby cave, deep in the forest. She’d placed all the animals as deep in the cave as she could, restrained in cages or pouches as well as possible, and hung a wet blanket over the entrance to wait it out. Sounds unbelievable, right?

Well, here’s a fascinating recount of a story, and a news article discussing how the shelter has dealt with the fires.

And it worked. Glenda had saved every animal.

If fires came through this time, Glenda had the same plan- send the volunteers away to safety in town, then get all the animals into the cave. Luckily, it never came to that. But it was tense.

As well as volunteering, I also signed up to the Kangaloola rescue team. I was on standby to help rescue and transport any injured wildlife to safety. I’d even got the go ahead from the local veterinary clinic that I could treat any injured wildlife on site after-hours if required.

Despite our readiness, we never came across a single animal to be rescued from the fires while I was there. The trouble was, these weren’t normal bushfires.

After a ‘normal’ bushfire, it was not unusual to find injured wildlife in the following days, who might have hurt themselves fleeing, or had burns that needed treatment.

The 2020 fires burned so fast and with such heat, that there were very few injured animals left. The wildlife was either quick enough to flee far away from the fire front, or they were killed outright. When we searched the burned land, there was nothing left.

So, despite our rescue parties, our donated supplies, our teams ready to treat wildlife in need, there was no surviving animals to treat.

We felt completely helpless.

The Frustration

And for me and many others, helplessness was what embodied our response to the bushfires.

I had offered to help in a dozen different ways, but the fires blazed on and there was nothing I could do. I’d also signed up for the emergency veterinary response teams for different parts of the country- but I was never called upon. I was frustrated.

Those clients with the bags of donated pillow cases and jars of honey just wanted to help, and they reacted with anger when we told them their efforts weren’t needed. They were frustrated.

Many veterinary colleagues from around the world posted on social media, saying they were going to fly over and save animals in need- but we had enough vets! Hundreds ready to volunteer. But there were very few opportunities to do so.

Australia was not prepared for those fires, and as a result, no one was really prepared with what to do with the outpouring of support that came from people just wanting to help. So those resources could not be used effectively.

What can we do?

A year after the fires, politicians are still arguing about who to blame, and what more could, or should have been done to prevent them. Regardless of who we blame, the fact remains that the Black Summer of 2020 was the worst climatic disaster in Australia’s history- and Australia’s wildlife and livestock were some of the greatest victims.

And really, the best thing we can all do to help is not fun or dramatic.

We need to turn our frustration and anger into action to protect our planet, and prevent disasters like this happening again.

This isn’t a political point, and its not about your personal ideologies. You don’t need to believe in climate change to understand that the way we treat our planet it causing irreversible harm (although multiple studies have demonstrated the link between climate change and the bushfires).

We need to do better. Not just to protect the animals, or the Australian bush- but to protect all of us who call this planet home.

As individuals, we do have the power to make changes- both through our choices as consumers of fuel and food, and through our votes, to select leaders who will help us with our mission. The worst that can happen is that we create a planet that’s cleaner and more sustainable than ever before- and will that ever be a bad thing?

My takeaway from my experience is that we should turn our frustration into action. We must all focus our attention on the source of the issue, rather than our inability to help when the fire strikes.

I know that’s what I’ll be doing.

Further Information

Phew, heavy stuff right?

If you’d like to read a little more about my stories as a vet in Australia, you might enjoy 10 Things I Learned as an Outback Vet.

Or, head back to the veterinary experiences page to hear more about what its like as a vet in different parts of the world.

And if you have thoughts on the Australian Bushfire situation, feel free to leave a comment below, or message me on the ‘Contact Me’ page.