It was just after six in the morning when it happened. The sun had barely risen above the surrounding hills, which were white from a rare overnight snowfall, and I was out walking with my dogs. We paused as a mob of kangaroos bounded through the trees. When I thought they'd all passed, we continued on our way.
But I was wrong. About 15 metres in front of us stood a straggler. She quickly ducked behind a eucalypt, melting into the landscape. Sensing her fear, I pulled the dog leads tight and turned to walk in the other direction. Seeing us turn, she bolted out from the tree, heading for the back of the mob. Eyes on us, she veered wide towards the road just as a white station wagon came speeding around the corner.
I screamed as it made impact, but the driver either didn't notice, or didn't care. He just sped on.
Scientists have estimated that at least four million native animals are killed on Australian roads every year. That is a lot of animals. A lot of lives. But, what can we do about it?
On an individual level, there are some steps we can all take, such as driving carefully, using headlights and being more aware of what is on the edge, as well as the middle, of the road. Of course, we can also create safer pathways for wildlife — over, under, or around our roads. But, more importantly, we can stop encroaching into their habitat.
Koalas, for example, are being driven into extinction through habitat clearing, which is forcing them onto our roads. If they do become extinct, they will form part of the sixth mass extinction that scientists tell us is currently unfolding. And, according to the Australian Conservation Foundation, Australia is currently leading the world in animal extinction rates.
In her recent book, The Sixth Extinction: An Unnatural History, Elizabeth Kolbert has explained that we have placed animals in a lethal double bind: they have to move due to the effects of climate change and habitat destruction, but their pathways are blocked by roads or occupied by humans. Some might ask why this mass extinction should matter to us, but we ignore it at our peril.
"With around four million animals dying on our roads each year, it's a disturbingly common event. We are incredibly bad at sharing this planet, and it doesn't seem to be working in our favour."
The loss of biodiversity and the collapse of ecosystems will have dire consequences for our survival. We rely on these ecosystems to grow our food, to purify our water, and for so many other natural resources that we take for granted. All of which highlights another issue that Kolbert raises, which is that our role in bringing about this mass extinction raises fundamental questions about humanity's relationship to the natural world and our place within it.
It is these fundamental questions that strike me as I watch the young kangaroo's hindlegs buckled beneath her. They are bleeding, clearly broken, but she still manages to scramble across the road before collapsing on the grass.
I spot another dog walker nearby. 'Do you have a phone?' He nods and pulls one from his coat pocket. 'Can you call the ranger?' He nods again.
Keeping as far from the terrified kangaroo as I can, I walk the dogs towards home. Only then do I spot the other stragglers. They stand among the trees, eyes fixed on their friend, waiting quietly for the predators to leave.
As soon as I get home, I call the ranger — just to be sure they'll come. After confirming the kangaroo's location, they tell me a ranger is on the way. I try to thank them, but the words catch in my throat, and I start to sob.
As harrowing as I found this experience, with around four million animals dying on our roads each year, it's a disturbingly common event. We are incredibly bad at sharing this planet, and it doesn't seem to be working in our favour.
As Kolbert's book points out, our technological advances have alienated us from the biosphere that sustains us, fundamentally altering our relationship to the natural world. We may once have thought these advances would provide us with protection from the destruction we reap, but it has become abundantly clear that we are not immune. Beyond that, nothing can provide immunity from the alienation itself.
Surely it doesn't have to be like this? As we reach a collective understanding that we cannot continue to live in direct conflict with nature, we will need to rediscover what harmony looks like.
I'm not sure what this will utimately mean, but I'm pretty sure it will involve slowing down. And, as we work to heal the damage we have caused to our home, and to heal our relationship to the natural world that sustains us, maybe we might also heal something within ourselves.
That is my hope for the future.
Dr Cristy Clark is a lecturer at the Southern Cross University School of Law and Justice. Her research focuses on the intersection of human rights, neoliberalism, activism and the environment, and particularly on the human right to water.