Ethical and Environmental

Poor Pipistrelle

Extinction and evolution

(Charles Darwin long ago opined)

Are inextricably entwined.

Today, of course, all proper folk

(Non-nutters) readily invoke

His thought as transparently right. 

Yet such reasoning oft takes flight

When warm fuzzy feelings intrude.

For it’s nice, really nice,

Gives really nice vibes,

To be kind and caring 

To non-human tribes.

So let’s not worry too

Much about Darwin.

Pipistrelle, a tiny bat,

Unique to Christmas Island: 

Peter Garrett, Minister, gifts

P. dollars (one-and-a-half

Million), for it’s ‘endangered’.

That’s its singular virtue.

It’s nice, really nice, and

Gives really nice vibes,

To be kind and caring 

To non-human tribes.

So let’s not worry too

Much about Darwin.

Woylies, wee marsupials

Of farthest West, not merely

‘Endangered’ but able 

To carry ‘leaves and sticks with

their tail’: that’s a compounded

Virtue worth half a million.

It’s nice, really nice, and

Gives really nice vibes,

To be kind and caring 

To non-human tribes.

So let’s not worry too

Much about Darwin.

The Eastern Barred Bandicoot,

‘Endangered’, has formally

Birthed a Recovery Team,

Working to shift those few left

To a safe coastal island:

The cost so far undisclosed. 

It’s nice, really nice, and

Gives really nice vibes,

To be kind and caring 

To non-human tribes.

So let’s not worry too

Much about Darwin. 

The Murray Hardyhead, a 

Fresh-water ‘golden sardine’,

That’s solely salt-tolerant.

‘Endangered’ of course; and now,

Accordingly, breeds only

In costly captivity.

It’s nice, really nice, and

Gives really nice vibes,

To be kind and caring 

To non-human tribes.

So let’s not worry too

Much about Darwin.

And so it goes.

The Dudding of Traveston Dam

‘Lung’ is an oddish word, 
‘Lungfish’ even odder.

One defines two panting parts
Enabling us to dodder
When and wheresoe’r we will.
The other names a wily
Fish that may transfer from gill,
At need, to a single lung.

This rare versatility
Persuades some gentle folk, of
Acute sensibility, 
That one-lungs (though few) deserve
More water security
Than Brisbane’s teeming two-lungs.    

And so Peter Garrett pounced,
Lunging for the Greenie vote,
Upon the little lungfish as
What he needed to promote
His veto of the planned dam
That State Labor underwrote.

Bernie’s Moth

In the Shire of Murrindindi.

There is a moth, rare as may be,

Inhabiting an old gum tree

On Bernie Quinlan’s property.

By the enlightened bourgeoisie

(Though others tend to disagree)

This moth is valued so highly

That they will brook no counter-plea.

This Bernie learned belatedly

When they inspired a stern decree, 

As pipeline slithered southerly

Through the heart of Murrindindi. 

Its route, though planned initially 

To drive right through the Quinlan tree, 

Now would divert most artfully

With ample circularity.

And so it was that much good lea

That Bernie owned was grievously

Degraded to preserve the tree

In which that moth was refugee.
 

But, so sad to say, nobody 

Took any time to tell Bernie 

Why such creatures, rare as may be,

Deserved such tender custody.
 

Of Principles and Unattended Consequences

Revelation: Australian footballs
Are hand-stitched by pitifully-paid,
Tender-aged children in India. 

Resolution: with precipitate 
Promptitude and pious fanfare, firms
Australian easy cancel contracts. 

Regardless: the price that destitute  
Indian families will pay for 
These outrage-induced cancellations.  

 










 



The Zoo Culture
2014
 
I don’t believe in ‘animal rights’
Nor that ‘endangered species’ have to   
Be saved, but I confess distress at 
The sight and thought of eagles confined,   
Polar bears in diminutive ponds,
Tigers endlessly padding around.
Why cage big birds and large animals
That are born to fly free and roam wide?

Apologists mention ‘saving the
Species’ in the same breath as ‘research’,
But their mainstay is ‘education’.
In its name, children are herded to
Gaze on birds, animals and reptiles
Divorced from their natural estate;
Yet learn little (apart from smells) that
Doesn’t come truer from books and films.

In fact, it’s ‘entertainment’ that’s the
Name, main aim of the zoo culture game.
Having children giggle at red-bummed
Baboons, coo at cuddly lion cubs,
Gasp at lumbering grey elephants, 
Shrink from cobras oozing behind glass
(In between breaks for picnics and drinks),
Is how the culture measures success. 

And its cruelty’s denied: yet witness
The mighty eagle, perched always high
And still under wire-mesh giving it 
Sight of a sky it can never soar;
Or the cheetah (swiftest of runners) 
Ever circling in its dusty cage,
Never able to stride long and lithe,
Never to feel the wind in its face. 
  

Of Devilish Hyperbole

2014

Tasmanian Devils are 
On the path to extinction:
A funded expert describes
That as a ‘catastrophe’.

For the diseased devil-kin,
There is no doubt it’s so; but 
For all other (non-funded) 
Beings in this ample world? 

 

Weep also for the Flowers

2019

Sober report now has it that
Those summer-buzzing lovelies,
Honey bees, are already on
A shortish road to extinction
That puts in jeopardy a full
Three-tenths of the planet’s food.

But the catastrophe (sans
Science-cobbled solutions)
Goes beyond food to the certain
Slaughter of flowers reliant
For life on the seduction of
Loud-lusting apian lovers.

So the prospect looms of an even
Sadder world, at once hungrier
And infinitely dingier!