I want to tell you about the time I killed a wombat. This story shares an account of the most difficult situation of my student career thus far. It contains graphic content so PLEASE DO NOT read further if you find animal welfare or euthanasia distressing beyond your control. I found it distressing to experience and also write so I hope that those of you who read this find it meaningful.
The story starts with me driving along a country road by myself through a part of New South Wales that had been recently affected by a small bushfire. And as Australian bushland does, it looked about as alive as it had ever been; small green shoots of succulent grass were protruding from charred clumps where tussocks once stood standing a metre tall, new shoots of eucalyptus eager to recover from their charred and blackened trunks. It’s a view of nature that is at once shocking and inspiring – one that everybody should have the experience of firsthand. It was in this setting I saw a large male wombat chewing away – oblivious to the world – with his back to me.
Being the animal enthusiast that I am, I pulled over. I’m always eager to see native animals in the wild.
At this point my suspicions were raised. Anybody that has tried to sneak up on a wild animal (to get a photo, get a meal, or just to get a look) knows that they don’t exactly hang around. But this particular wombat wasn’t responding to my approach at all! I got out of the car and walked closer, expecting at any moment for it to suddenly hear me and tear off into the distance or down a nearby hole.
This is what I could see from my car.
Seeing Practice 