Journal articles on the topic 'Braidwood'

One of the hallmarks of the new archaeology was a shift from “sites” to regions as the investigatory universe appropriate to most archaeological problems (e.g., Binford 1964). This new emphasis was accompanied by a call for multidisciplinary investigations. The precedents usually cited are studies such as MacNeish's Tehuacan Valley project (Byers 1967-1972) and Braidwood's Jarmo project (Braidwood and Howe 1960). Archaeological Survey in the Lower Mississippi Alluvial Valley, 1940-1947 (Phillips, Ford, and Griffin 1951), which shares many of these features, is not commonly cited and is one of the more undervalued classics of its time.

With deep sadness, we have to accept that two cornerstones, not just of British immunology, but also world-famous scientists in the field of complement research, passed away within the margin of a few weeks: Peter Julius Lachmann on 26 December 2020 (Figure 1), and Robert Braidwood Sim (known to everyone as Bob) on 6 February 2021 (Figure 2) [...]

A pair of wombats (Vombatus ursinus) near Braidwood NSW, were observed in the early afternoon for over one hour during which time the darker and greyer animal (male) followed close (about 2 m) behind the larger, tawny furred animal (female). They followed a fixed path over a 0.25 ha area of short grass. Copulation occured 4 times with the male partly on its side at right angles acroos the hind quarters of the female.

Populations of non-target birds and mammals on a semi-cleared grazing property near Braidwood, New South Wales, did not appear to be affected by a trail-baiting campaign against rabbits, Oryctolagus cuniculus, using pellet bait and 1080 poison. Rabbit numbers were reduced by about 90% and those of the fox, Vulpes vulpes, another exotic pest, by about 75%. Populations of both pest species began recovering soon after the campaign, indicating the need for continued control measures.

Kathleen Jones has a master’s degree as a clinical nurse specialist in holistic health and is a certified school nurse for the Reed-Custer School District in Braidwood, Ill. She is also certified as a school health coordinator, audiometric screener and vision technician and holds a special certificate of natural health & nutrition. Jones also has had more than 20 years of nursing experience in medical, surgical, urology, orthopedics, cardiac rehabilitation and coronary intensive care nursing. She is enrolled in a dual doctorate program in naturopathy and natural nutrition for medical professionals.

Purpose The purpose of this paper is to examine how rural outlaws, known in the Australian context as bushrangers, impacted on the introduction of itinerant teaching in sparsely settled areas under the Council of Education in the colony of New South Wales. In July 1867 the evolving process for establishing half-time schools was suddenly disrupted when itinerant teaching diverged down an unexpected and uncharted path. As a result the first two itinerant teachers were appointed and taught in an irregular manner that differed significantly from regulation and convention. The catalyst was a series of events arising from bushranging that was prevalent in the Braidwood area in the mid-1860s. Design/methodology/approach The paper draws on archival sources, particularly sources within State Archives and Records NSW, further contemporary sources such as reports and newspapers; and on secondary sources. Findings The paper reveals the circumstances which led to the implementation of an unanticipated form of itinerant teaching in the “Jingeras”; the impact of rural banditry or bushranging, on the nature and conduct of these early half-time schools; and the processes of policy formation involved. Originality/value This study is the first to explore the causes behind the marked deviation from the intended form and conduct of half-time schools that occurred in the Braidwood area of 1860s New South Wales. It provides a detailed account of how schooling was employed to counter rural banditry, or bushranging, in the Jingeras and provided significant insight into the education policy formation processes of the time.

In 1954, nineteen years after the founding of the Society for American Archaeology and four years after President Harry S Truman signed its enabling legislation, the National Science Foundation (NSF) inaugurated a Program of support for ”Anthropology and Related Sciences,” which expended its entire research budget for that year on two awards. Dr. Gordon Willey of Harvard University received a one year grant of $11,500 to examine “Prehistoric Settlement Patterns in the Maya Area” and Dr. Robert Braidwood, University of Chicago, was provided with $23,500 to be expended over a three-year period to conduct “Human Population Studies in the Fertile Crescent.”

The domestication of plants and animals was the byproduct of an evolutionary process in which particular elements in the constellation of potential domesticates were subject to human manipulation as a response to adaptive strategies within diverse ecological habitats (Braidwood, 1971, 238). During the course of this development, patterns of exploitation apparently exerted an external stimulus which eventually resulted in the selective modification of the adaptive attributes of particular species of plants and animals. Such morphological change has been taken as a key criterion in delineating the diagnostic characteristics distinguishing wild from domestic plants and animals (Jarman, 1972, 16). The problem then becomes one of identifying the most reliable indicators in the resultant effects upon the domestication of plants and animals, as well as the inherent limitations stemming from the interpretive potential of such attributes (be they biological or cultural).

This article analyzes the current Canadian legal framework that governs the deployment of conducted energy weapons (CEWs), such as tasers, and explores the ongoing public debate concerning its use in Canada. The tragic case of Robert Dziekanski’s death at the Vancouver International Airport raised concerns about the use of CEWs and triggered important changes in the CEW policies across Canada. Both the Kennedy and Braidwood Commission Reports have led to restrictions on the use of CEWs. In light of these reports, this article provides some insight into the nature and scope of criminal and civil litigation involving police use of the CEW. It highlights the perception of the CEW as a weapon reserved for use only in the absence of other less forceful options. This article also identifies the various grounds for bringing criminal charges and/or civil suits against individual officers, local governments, and manufacturers.

Two questions are discussed that turn out to be related. The first was posed originally by Robert Braidwood more than fifty years ago, and concerns why farming was adopted in southwest Asia early in the Neolithic, and not earlier. The second concerns the usually opposed processualist and post-processualist approaches to the Neolithic. The paper seeks to model the processes at work through the Epi-palaeolithic and early Neolithic, showing how the trend towards sedentism and storage of food resources coincided with the emergence of fully symbolic cognitive and cultural faculties. The former fed more mouths, and led to the adoption of farming practices that further intensified food productivity. The latter made possible and desirable the symbolic construction of large, permanently co-resident communities. The spread of farming may then be understood as the expansion of a complex way of life that involved communities living together in larger groups, with denser, richer cultural environments, controlling not only the built environment of their own settlements, but also the productivity of the agricultural environments that surrounded them.

The Samarran ceramic assemblage of the Mesopotamian region has long remained an enigma. With the exception of the work of Braidwood et al. and Oates, the nature of the relationship between Samarran and other contemporary Mesopotamian and Iranian styles has not been systematically explored. This paper begins by challenging contemporary perceptions of the Samarran “culture” and continues by investigating the relationship of Samarran wares to those of the Hassuna and Ubaid traditions. Comparisons among these assemblages are made by means of recent miner-alogical data from the site of Tell 'Oueili (Tell 'Awayli) in southern Mesopotamia. The Ubaid 0 ceramic assemblage at Tell 'Oueili is seen to have a substantial Samarran component, and, in light of this information, new questions arise concerning the place of this style within the region. The data provided by Courtois and Velde are used to test the following hypotheses about Samarran ceramics: [1] that they were imported to the southern Mesopotamian plain, [2] that they were locally made in southern Mesopotamia, and [3] that they are an integral and undifferentiated part of the Ubaid 0 assemblage.

Since Dorothy Garrod’s pioneering work at the Mousterian site of Hazar Merd on the western slopes of the Zagros Mountains in 1928, a number of Middle Palaeolithic sites in the area have been discovered, sampled and, in some cases, partially excavated. Some of these sites are located in the Kermanshah Plain, Central Western Zagros Mountains. These sites include the Hunter’s Cave and Gha-e Khar in Bisotun (Coon 1951: Young & Smith 1966), Kobeh and Warwasi in Tang-e Kenesht (Braidwood 1960), and two sites near Harsin (Smith 1986). All but the last two are among a large number of Palaeolithic localities on the south face of a series of calcareous mountain ranges (Kuh-e Parau/ Bisotun massif) on the northeastern rim of Qara Su basin in the Kermanshah Plain (FIGURE 1).Following a hiatus in archaeological research after the Iranian Revolution of 1979, an independent series of surveys in the area by the authors led to the discovery of three Mousterian sites at Bisotun in 1986 (Biglari in press). During recent years, we located two more Mousterian sites, including Do-Ashkaft, the subject of this note.

The effects of time and rate of application of glyphosate, 2,2-DPA and tetrapion on Poa labillardieri and Themeda australis were measured in seven experiments carried out 55 km south of Braidwood, on the southern tablelands of New South Wales between 1980 and 1982. In an eighth experiment (1981) and in a 35-ha demonstration (1983), at the same site, the effects of applying herbicides (before and after the autumn break) and surface-sowing Phalaris aquatica, Festuca arundinacea and Trifiolium repens with fertiliser on the control of P. labillardieri were ascertained. All three herbicides proved effective in reducing the ground cover of P. labillardieri from applications at any time of the year. For T. australis, tetrapion proved effective when applied at any time of the year, while glyphosate and 2,2-DPA were effective in all seasons except winter. Glyphosate at rates between 0.72 and 1.44 kg/ha a.i. was more cost effective than 2,2-DPA (11.1 kg/ha a.i.) and tetrapion (3.75 kg/ha a.i.). Best establishment and development of sown grasses and legumes was attained by applying herbicides after the autumn break but before heavy frosts, and then surface-sowing 1-3 months later. Control of P. labillardieri was best where P. aquatica and F. arundinacea established most densely.

Ancient human in early stages of his life depended on stone (Kottak, 2006). He used some stone made tools to overcome the natural environment and prevention from any possible danger. In addition to provide his daily needs (Mohammed 2005). This use developed and passed many stages of stony ages like the old stony age and the Middle stony age and the modern stony age. He began to use stone in building and in preparing his stony tools like, hummer, grinder, mill and others. Among the most important stones used are the Granite, Basalt, Nice, limestone, sand stone, and Sawan stone. Some stony tools were found in some archaeological sites (Braidwood and Howe, 1972) like Cave Shanidar, Solecki- 1953, Al ani-1986) and Kareem shahr (Howe 1983) and Tel Alnisr , the archaeological, nearby Alrutba city western Iraq (Alzubaidi 2012). In Egypt, stone was used in building the temples and cemeteries like Granite stone, Limestone, Dolostone, marble, sandstone, gypsum and bazalt (Dollinger 2000). Types of building stones differ from place to another depending on the available stones in the nearby natural environment. (Wahby, 2004). Limestone is one of the sedimentary stones composed of calcium carbonate and the crystalline system (Hexagonal) and dissolves in dilute Hyloric acid; it has different colors (Dear et al- 1969)

To provide an estimate of kangaroo numbers for harvest management, a survey was designed for an area of 29 500 km2 encompassing the agricultural and grazing lands of the Braidwood, Cooma, Goulburn, Gundagai and Yass Rural Lands Protection Board (RLPB) districts in south-east New South Wales. An aerial survey using a helicopter was considered more efficient than ground survey because of the size of the area, relatively high relief and dense tree cover, and the need for regular monitoring. Tree cover and landscape relief was used to stratify the five RLPB districts into areas of probable high, medium and low kangaroo density. Kangaroo density estimated from helicopter surveys conducted in the Northern Tablelands of New South Wales was used to suggest densities and thereby allocate survey effort in each stratum. A survey comprising 735 km of transect line was conducted in winter 2003 with a target precision of 20%. The survey returned an estimate of 286 600 ± 32 300 eastern grey kangaroos for the whole of the proposed south-east New South Wales kangaroo-management zone. In 2004, a trial harvest of slightly less than 15% of this estimate was taken. Success of the trial will be determined by the impact of harvesting on the population’s dynamics, by landholder and industry participation, and by the capacity to monitor population size, harvest offtake and compliance with regulations.

The quantity of dung buried and shredded by dung beetles at four sites in south-eastern Australia was found to be positively correlated with the dry weight (biomass) of beetles in the pads. Each of the four sites has two abundant native species of dung beetles, and one to five well-established introduced species present. At Uriarra, where only one introduced species is common, a mean of 7 . 2 l � 1.94% (1990-91) and 6.01�1.31% (1991-92) of the dung was buried per week. At Fyshwick, with two common introduced species of dung beetles, 22.27� 4.03% (1990-91) and 12 04�2 72% (1991-92) of the dung was buried per week. Braidwood, with four introduced species, had a mean of 15.81� 2.82% (1991-92) weekly dung buried, and Araluen, with five introduced species, had 30.18�8- 73% (1992-93) dung buried per week. Dung beetle numbers were low at all sites during the first half of 1991-92 season due to a drought throughout the region. Dung shredding averaged less than 12% over the seasons at all sites, but fluctuated from 0 to 70%, depending mainly on beetle numbers in the dung pads on individual occasions. Increasing numbers of exotic dung beetles throughout the pastoral areas of Australia should result in increased amounts of dung buried and shredded, with correspondingly increased benefits to Australian agriculture.

In the main experiment, the effectiveness of tetrapion, glyphosate and 2,2-DPA in selectively removing Eragrostis curvula from a Phalaris aquatica pasture was determined by applying each at three rates in July 1980, September 1980, December 1980 and March 1981 near Braidwood, New South Wales. Auxiliary experiments were conducted from April 1981 to April 1983 to determine the reliability of herbicide effect on E. curvula. Tetrapion (2.25 and 3.375 kg/ha a.i.) was the most effective herbicide in killing E. curvula and promoting P. aquatica and Trifolium subterraneum. It was more selective when applied in September 1980 and December 1980 than when applied in July 1980 or March 198 1. Re-infestation by E. curvula seedlings in the 3 years after spraying with tetrapion amounted to a maximum of 3% of ground cover. In the auxiliary experiments, tetrapion was effective on all nine occasions of application, which demonstrated its reliability and effectiveness at any time of the year. Glyphosate (1.08 and 1.62 kg/ha a.i.) was effective in killing E. curvula in March 1981 but this result could not be repeated in March 1982 or March 1983 or in nine other applications at other times in these years. 2,2-DPA (maximum rate 22.2 kg/ha a.i.) was ineffective in killing E. curvula at four times of application. Recovery of the P. aquatica pasture after treatment declined in the order: tetrapion >2,2-DPA>glyphosate.

Widely based historical research was conducted in an attempt to construct a timetable of the decline in the abundance of the Brush-tailed Rock-wallaby Petrogale penicillata in New South Wales. The discovery of 24 new locality records extended its historical range to the coast and provided greater continuity in its distribution than previously recorded. Historical references indicate that P. penicillata was abundant last century but it had declined in most districts by 1915. Protection was declared in 1908 at Bombala and Cooma, in 1912 at Braidwood and in 1913 at Picton and Hartley. Intense hunting pressure on P. penicillata, which resulted in some local extinctions, generally preceded and overlapped with its decline. Hunting for bounties was largely replaced by hunting for the commercial fur trade, which continued until at least 1927. At least 144,000 P. penicillata skins were sold in the 1890s, when their price was lowest. The fox Vulpes vulpes arrived well after the onset of the period of prolonged and sustained hunting pressure, but was in some areas from 7-16 years before P. penicillata was officially declared protected for that area. The time interval between the year when 100+ fox bounties were first paid in the district to the year when P. penicillata was locally protected varied from 5-10 years. Both of these periods of overlap are likely to be overestimates. This paper identifies the extent and relevance of commercially driven hunting to the early and steep decline of P. penicillata in NSW. Concurrent arrival of rabbits, together with the fox and possibly goats, is likely to have contributed to the decline and suppression of P. penicillata populations.

The immediate circumstances which led up to the founding of Freetown in the 1790s were highly contingent, even freakish. Christopher Fyfe has stressed the role of the scientist and dubious adventurer, Henry Smeathman, in publicizing the misguided view that the Sierra Leone district provided an ideal ecological environment for settlement. More recently, Stephen Braidwood has shown that the 1787 choice of Sierra Leone as a suitable locality for settlement by the Black Poor of London, the earliest settlers, came about as a result of acceptance of Smeathman's view, not by the white philanthropists and politicians who masterminded the exodus of the Black Poor, but by the London Blacks themselves—who knew nothing of Sierra Leone from personal experience but were convinced by Smeathman's rhetoric. That the Blacks were allowed to insist on their choice might itself be regarded as freakish.Yet, seen in a wider historical context, the foundation of Freetown, and the subsequent development of the community eventually termed “Creole,” appear less accidental and extraordinary. Why, for instance, did Smeathman chose Sierra Leone for his butterfly-collecting on his only visit to Africa? Presumably it was because he was aware that he could obtain the support and protection of the trading settlements in the Banana Islands, on Sherbro Island, and along the coast between—settlements which had been established in earlier decades by the English-speaking families of the Caulkers, Parkers, and Tuckers, families whose very names (even if corrupted from African names) point back to the later seventeenth century and the activities on this coast of the Royal African Company. And perhaps Smeathman had read John Newton's published account of his early career as a resident trader on the same coast which, although full of complaints about his treatment by his African employers, at least showed that a white could survive there.

Straipsnyje analizuojami pasisavinamojo ir gamybinio ūkio skirtingi ūkio kultūros tipai ir jų poveikis gamtinei aplinkai. Teigiama, kad mezolite išryškėjo ūkio kultūros tipų diferenciacija: išsiskyrė specializuotos sezoniškai judrios derliaus rinkėjų, sėslios ir pusiau sėslios pakrančių medžiotojų ir žvejų, stepėse gyvenančių klajoklių medžiotojų grupės. Remiantis G. Childe‘o, R. Braidwoodo ir L. Binfordo hipotezėmis tiriamos gamybinio ūkio atsiradimo ekologinės, demografinės ir ekonominės prielaidos. Gamybinio ūkio atsiradimas ir jo raida iš esmės pakeitė gamtinę aplinką. Ūkinių-kultūros įgūdžių kaita ekstremaliomis gamtinėmis sąlygomis vyko iki tam tikros ribos, o kai buvo išnaudotos visos klajoklinės gyvulininkystės galimybės, prasidėjo amžius trunkanti ekonominė ir kultūros stagnacija. Ganyklų nualinimas, jų degradacija tapo globaliniu reiškiniu. Kultūros raidos teorijos, neatsižvelgiančios į ekologinių sąlygų įtaką, neišvengiamai yra vienpusiškos. Daroma išvada, kad kultūros raidos analizės bendrieji metodologiniai principai įgyja mokslinę vertę tik tada, kai atsižvelgia į įvairialypę kultūros ir natūros tarpusavio sąveiką.

Terrestrial plants, the non-marine Braidwood Fauna, and the euryhaline Essex Fauna, best known from the Francis Creek Shale Member within the Mazon Creek area of northeastern Illinois, are found to recur in analogous deltaic lithofacies elsewhere both in Illinois and in adjacent states. An important new Essex-type fossil locality is reported from deposits coeval with the Francis Creek Member in Missouri, and occurrences of Braidwood animals from additional stratigraphic units are discussed. These assemblages occur in estuarine-deltaic deposits juxtaposed on coals; the significance of the association of these fossils with transgressive inundation of coastal peat swamps is discussed and a predictive model for the occurrence of Mazon Creek-type assemblages is presented. We believe that fossil associations comparable to those at Mazon Creek, occur in certain coastal deposits ranging in age from Pennsylvanian to, at least, the Triassic.

In 1960, Robert Braidwood discovered, by chance, an Acheulean biface at Gakia, Kermanshah Province, in the Zagros Mountains of western Iran (Braidwood 1960). Since then, only around ten Lower Palaeolithic sites have been identified on the Iranian Plateau, most of which are open-air sites (see Biglari & Shidrang 2006). Despite growing interest in the Palaeolithic of Iran over the past decade, studies generally continue to focus on particular sites and are largely concerned with the technology and typology of raw materials. A major problem for studies of the Lower Palaeolithic, in particular, is the rarity of cave sites, making it very difficult to study the behaviour of the early hominids through excavation. This paper reports the discovery of an Acheulean biface during a survey of the Deh Luran Plain to the south of the plateau, adding to the picture of human dispersal during the Pleistocene.

The site of Tappeh Asiab in Iran is one of only a handful of Early Neolithic sites known from the Zagros Mountains. Discovered during Robert Braidwood's ‘Iranian Prehistory’ project, the site has seen limited publication of its early excavations. Here, the authors challenge some of the initial assumptions made about the site by discussing the first findings of renewed excavations, in the hope of substantially improving our currently limited knowledge of the Early Neolithic in this region.

Hidden away at the ends of streets, behind suburban parks and community assets, there remain remnants of the coastal wallum heathlands that once stretched from Caloundra to Noosa, in Queensland, Australia. From late July to September, these areas explode with colour, a springtime wonderland of white wedding bush, delicate ground orchids, the pastels and brilliance of pink boronias, purple irises, and the diverse profusion of yellow bush peas. These gifts of nature are still relatively unknown and unappreciated, with most locals, and Australians at large, having little knowledge of the remarkable nature of the wallum, the nutrient-poor sandy soil that can be almost as acidic as battery acid, but which sustains a finely tuned ecosystem that, once cleared, cannot be regrown. These heathlands and woodlands, previously commonplace beyond the beach dunes of the coastal region, are now only found in a number of national parks and reserves, and suburban remnants.Image 1: The author wildflowering and making art (Photo: Judy Barrass)I too was one of those who had no idea of the joys of the wallum and heathland wildflowers, but it was the creative works of Kathleen McArthur and Judith Wright that helped initiate my education, my own wanderings, wildflowering, and love. Learning country has been a multi-faceted experience, extended and tested as walking becomes an embodied encounter, bodies and landscapes entwined (Lund), an imaginative reimagining, creative act and source of inspiration, a form of pilgrimage (Morrison), forging an intimate relationship (Somerville).Image 2: Women wildflowering next to Rainbow Beach (Photo: Susan Davis)Wandering—the experience shares some similar characteristics to walking, but may have less of a sense of direction and destination. It may become an experience that is relational, contemplative, connected to place. Wandering may be transitory but with impact that resonates across years. Such is the case of wandering for McArthur and Wright; the experience became deeply relational but also led to a destabilisation of values, where the walking body became “entangled in monumental historical and social structures” (Heddon and Turner). They called their walking and wandering “wildflowering”. Somerville said of the term: “Wildflowering was a word they created to describe their passion for Australian wildflower and their love of the places where they found them” (Somerville 2). However, wildflowering was also very much about the experience of wandering within nature, of the “art of seeing”, of learning and communing, but also of “doing”.Image 3: Kathleen McArthur and Judith Wright “wildflowering” north of Lake Currimundi. (Photo: Alex Jelinek, courtesy Alexandra Moreno)McArthur defined and described going wildflowering as meaningdifferent things to different people. There are those who, with magnifying glass before their eyes, looking every inch the scientist, count stamens, measure hairs, pigeon-hole all the definitive features neatly in order and scoff at common names. Others bring with them an artistic inclination, noting the colours and shapes and shadows in the intimate and in the general landscape. Then there are those precious few who find poetry in a Helmut Orchid “leaning its ear to the ground”; see “the trigger-flower striking the bee”; find secrets in Sun Orchids; see Irises as “lilac butterflies” and a fox in a Yellow Doubletail…There are as many different ways to approach the “art of seeing” as there are people who think and feel and one way is as worthy as any other to make of it an enjoyably sensuous experience… (McArthur, Australian Wildflowers 52-53)Wildflowering thus extends far beyond the scientific collector and cataloguer of nature; it is about walking and wandering within nature and interacting with it; it is a richly layered experience, an “art”, “a sensuous experience”, “an artistic inclination” where perception may be framed by the poetic.Their wildflowering drove McArthur and Wright to embark on monumental struggles. They became the voice for the voiceless lifeforms within the environment—they typed letters, organised meetings, lobbied politicians, and led community groups. In fact, they often had to leave behind the environments and places that brought them joy to use the tools of culture to protest and protect—to ensure we might be able to appreciate them today. Importantly, both their creativity and the activism were fuelled by the same wellspring: walking, wandering, and wildflowering.Women Wandering and WildfloweringWhen McArthur and Wright met in the early 1950s, they shared some similarities in terms of relatively privileged social backgrounds, their year of birth (1915), and a love of nature. They both had houses named after native plants (“Calanthe” for Wright’s house at Tambourine, “Midyim” for McArthur’s house at Caloundra), and were focussed on their creative endeavours—Wright with her poetry, McArthur with her wildflower painting and writing. Wright was by then well established as a highly regarded literary figure on the Australian scene. Her book of poetry The Moving Image (1946) had been well received, and later publications further consolidated her substance and presence on the national literary landscape. McArthur had been raised as the middle daughter of a prominent Queensland family; her father was Daniel Evans, of Evans Deakin Industries, and her mother “Kit” was a daughter of one of the pastoral Durack clan. Kathleen had married and given birth to three children, but by the 1950s was exploring new futures and identities, having divorced her husband and made a home for her family at Caloundra on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast. She had time and space in her life to devote to her own pursuits and some financial means provided through her inheritance to finance such endeavours.Wright and McArthur met in 1951 after McArthur sent Wright a children’s book for Judith and Jack McKinney’s daughter Meredith. The book was by McArthur’s cousins, Mary Durack (of Kings in Grass Castles fame) and Elizabeth Durack. Wright subsequently invited McArthur to visit her at Tambourine and from that visit their friendship quickly blossomed. While both women were to become known as high-profile nature lovers and conservationists, Wright acknowledges that it was McArthur who helped “train her eye” and cultivated her appreciation of the wildflowers of south-east Queensland:There are times in one’s past which remain warm and vivid, and can be taken out and looked at, so to speak, with renewed pleasure. Such, for me, were my first meetings in the early 1950s with Kathleen McArthur, and our continuing friendship. They brought me joys of discovery, new knowledge, and shared appreciation. Those “wild-flowering days” at Tamborine Mountain, Caloundra, Noosa or Lake Cootharaba, when I was able to wander with her, helped train my own eye a little to her ways of seeing and her devotion to the flowers of the coast, the mountains, and the wallum plains and swamps. (Wright quoted in McArthur, Australian Wildflowers 7)It was through this wandering and wildflowering that their friendship was forged, their knowledge of the plants and landscape grew and their passion was ignited. These acts of wandering were ones where feelings and the senses were engaged and celebrated. McArthur was to document her experiences of these environments through her wildflower paintings, cards, prints, weekly articles in the local newspapers, and books featuring Queensland and Australian Wildflowers (McArthur, Queensland Wildflowers; Living; Bush; Australian Wildflowers). Wright wrote a range of poems featuring landscapes and flora from the coastal experiences and doubtless influenced by their wildflowering experiences. These included, for example, Judith Wright’s poems “Wildflower Plain”, “Wonga Vine”, “Nameless Flower”, and “Sandy Swamp” (Collected Works).Through these acts of wildflowering, walking, and wandering, McArthur and Wright were drawn into activism and became what I call “wild/flower” women: women who cared for country, who formed a deep connection and intimate relationship with nature, with the more-than-human world; women who saw themselves not separate from nature but part of the great cycles of life, growth, death, and renewal; women whose relationship to the country, to the wildflowers and other living things was expressed through drawing, painting, poetry, stories, and performances—but that love driving them also to actions—actions to nurture and protect those wildflowers, places, and living things. This intimate relationship with nature was such that it inspired them to become “wild”, at times branded difficult, prompted to speak out, and step up to assume high profile roles on the public stage—and all because of their love of the small, humble, and often unseen.Wandering into Activism A direct link between “wildflowering” and activism can be identified in key experiences from 1953. That was the year McArthur devoted to “wildflowering”, visiting locations across the Sunshine Coast and South-East Queensland, documenting all that was flowering at different times of the year (McArthur, Living 15). She kept a monthly journal and also engaged in extensive drawing and painting. She was joined by Wright and her family for some of these trips, including one that would become a “monumental” expedition. They explored the area around Noosa and happened to climb to the top of Mt Tinbeerwah. Unlike many of the other volcanic plugs of the Sunshine Coast that would not be an easy climb for a family with young children, Tinbeerwah is a small volcanic peak, close to the road that runs between Cooroy and Tewantin, and one that is a relatively easy walk. From the car park, the trail takes you over volcanic lava flows, a pathway appearing, disappearing, winding through native grasses, modest height trees and to the edge of a dramatic cliff (one now popular with abseilers and adventurers). The final stretch brings you out above the trees to stunning 360-degree views, other volcanic peaks, a string of lakes and waterways, the patchwork greens of farmlands, distant blue oceans, and an expanse of bushland curving north for miles. Both women wrote about the experience and its subsequent significance: When Meredith was four years old, Kathleen McArthur, who was a great wildflower enthusiast and had become a good friend, invited us to join her on a wildflower expedition to the sand-plains north of Noosa. There the Noosa River spread itself out into sand-bottomed lakes between which the river meandered so slowly that everywhere the sky was serenely mirrored in it, trees hung low over it, birds haunted them.Kathleen took her little car, we took our converted van, and drove up the narrow unsealed road beyond Noosa. Once through the dunes—where the low bush-cover was white with wedding-bush and yellow with guinea-flower vines—the plains began, with many and mingled colours and scents. It was spring, and it welcomed us joyfully. (Wright, Half 279-280)McArthur also wrote about this event and its importance, as they both realised that this was territory that was worth protecting for posterity: ‘it was obvious that this was great wildflower country in addition to having a fascinating system of sand mass with related river and lakes. It would make a unique national park’ (McArthur, Living 53). After this experience, Kathleen and Judith began initial inquiries to find out about how to progress ideas for forming a national park (McArthur, Living). Brady affirms that it was Kathleen who first “broached the idea of agitating to have the area around Cooloola declared a National Park” (Brady 182), and it was Judith who then made inquiries in Brisbane on their way back to Mount Tambourine:Judith took the idea to Romeo Lahey of the National Parks Association who told her it was not threatened in any way whereas there were important areas of rainforest that were, and his association gave priority to those. If he had but known, it was threatened. The minerals sands prospectors were about to arrive, if not already in there. (McArthur, Living 53)These initial investigations were put on hold as the pair pursued their “private lives” and raised their children (McArthur, Living), but reignited throughout the 1960s. In 1962, McArthur and Wright were to become founding members of the Wildlife Preservation Society of Queensland (along with David Fleay and Brian Clouston), and Cooloola was to become one of one of their major campaigns (McArthur, Living 32). This came to the fore when they discovered there were multiple sand mining leases pending across the Cooloola region. It was at McArthur’s suggestion that a national postcard campaign was launched in 1969, with their organisation sending over 100,000 postcards across Australia to then be sent back to Joh Bjelke Peterson, the notoriously pro-development, conservative Queensland Premier. This is acknowledged as Australia’s first postcard campaign and was reported in national newspapers; The Australian called the Caloundra branch of WPSQ one of the “most militant cells” in Australia (25 May 1970). This was likely because of the extent of the WPSQ communications across media channels and persistence in taking on high profile critics, including the mining companies.It was to be another five years of campaigning before the national park was declared in 1975 (then named Cooloola National Park, now part of the Great Sandy). Wright was to then leave Queensland to live on a property near Braidwood (on the Southern Tablelands of New South Wales) and in a different political climate. However, McArthur stayed in Caloundra, maintaining her deep commitment to place and country, keeping on walking and wandering, painting, and writing. She campaigned to protect beach dunes, lobbied to have Pumicestone Passage added to the national heritage register (McArthur, Pumicestone), and fought to prevent the creation of canal estates on the Pumicestone passage. Following the pattern of previous campaigns, she engaged in detailed research, drawing on expertise nationally and internationally, and writing many submissions, newspaper columns, and letters.McArthur also advocated for the plants, the places, and forms of knowing that she loved, calling for “clear thinking and deep feeling” that would enable people to see, value, and care as she did, notably saying:Because our flowers have never settled into our consciousness they are not seen. People can drive through square miles of colourful, massed display of bloom and simply not see it. It is only when the mind opens that the flowers bloom. (McArthur, Bush 2)Her belief was that once you walked the country and could “see”, become familiar with, and fall in love with the wildflowers and their environment, you could not then stand by and see what you love destroyed. Her conservation activities and activism arose and was fed through her wildflowering and the deep knowledge and connections that were formed.Wildflowering and Wanderings of My OwnSo, what we can learn from McArthur and Wright, from our wild/flower women, their wanderings, and wildflowering?Over the past few years, I have walked the wallum country that they loved, recited their poetry, shared their work with others, walked with women in the present accompanied by resonances of the past. I have shared these experiences with friends, artists, and nature lovers. While wandering with one group of women one day, we discovered that a patch of wallum behind Sunshine Beach was due to be cleared for an aged care development. It is full of casuarina food trees visited by the endangered Glossy Black Cockatoos, but it is also full of old wallum banksias, a tree I have come to love, influenced in part by writing and art by McArthur, and my experiences of “wildflowering”.Banksia aemula—the wallum banksia—stands tall, often one of the tallest trees of our coastal heathlands and after which the wallum was named. A range of sources, including McArthur herself, identify the source of the tree’s name as an Aboriginal word:It is an Aboriginal word some say applied to all species of Banksia, and others say to Banksia aemula. The wallum, being up to the present practically useless for commercial purposes provides our best wildflower shows… (McArthur, Queensland Wildflowers 2)Gnarled, textured bark—soft grey and warm red browns, in parts almost fur—the flower heads, when young, feed the small birds and honeyeaters; the bees collect nectar to make honey. And the older heads—remnants on the ground left by glorious black cockatoos, whose beaks, the perfect pliers, crack pods open to recover the hidden seeds. In summer, as the new flowers burst open, every stage of the flower stem cycle is on show. The trees often stand together like familiar friends gossiping, providing shelter; they are protective, nurturing. Banksia aemula is a tree that, according to Thomas Petrie’s reminiscence of “early” Queensland, was significant to Aboriginal women, and might be “owned” by certain women:but certain men and women owned different fruit or flower-trees and shrubs. For instance, a man could own a bon-yi (Auaurcaria Bidwilli) tree, and a woman a minti (Banksia aemula)… (Petrie, Reminiscences 148)Banksia, wallum, women… the connection has existed for millennia. Women walking country, talking, observing, collecting, communing—and this tree was special to them as it has become for me. Who knows how old those trees are in that patch of forest and who may have been their custodians.Do I care about this? Yes, I do. How did I come to care? Through walking, through “wildflowering”, through stories, art, and experience. My connections have been forged by nature and culture, seeing McArthur’s art and reading Wright’s words, through walking the country with women, learning to know, and sharing a wildflowering culture. But knowing isn’t enough: wandering and wondering, has led to something more because now I care; now we must act. Along with some of the women I walked with, we have investigated council records; written to, and called, politicians and the developer; formed a Facebook group; met with various experts; and proposed alternatives. However, our efforts have not met with success as the history of the development application and approval was old and complex. Through wandering and “wildflowering”, we have had the opportunity to both lose ourselves and find ourselves, to escape, to learn, to discover. However, such acts are not necessarily aimless or lacking direction. As connections are forged, care and concern grows, and acts can shift from the humble and mundane, into the intentional and deliberate. The art of seeing and poetic perceptions may even transform into ecological action, with ramifications that can be both significant monumental. Such may be the power of “wildflowering”.ReferencesBrady, Veronica. South of My Days: A Biography of Judith Wright. Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1998.Heddon, Deirdre and Cathy Turner. “Walking Women: Shifting the Tales and Scales of Mobility.” Contemporary Theatre Review 22.2 (2012): 224–236.Lund, Katrín. “Landscapes and Narratives: Compositions and the Walking Body.” Landscape Research 37.2 (2012): 225–237.McArthur, Kathleen. Queensland Wildflowers: A Selection. Brisbane: Jacaranda Press, 1959.———. The Bush in Bloom: A Wildflower Artist’s Year in Paintings and Words. Sydney: Kangaroo Press, 1982.———. Pumicestone Passage: A Living Waterway. Caloundra: Kathleen McArthur, 1978.———. Looking at Australian Wildflowers. Sydney: Kangaroo Press, 1986.———. Living on the Coast. Sydney: Kangaroo Press, 1989.Morrison, Susan Signe. “Walking as Memorial Ritual: Pilgrimage to the Past.” M/C Journal 21.4 (2018). 12 Aug. 2019 <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/index.php/mcjournal/article/view/1437>.Petrie, Constance Campbell, and Tom Petrie. Tom Petrie’s Reminiscences of Early Queensland. 4th ed. Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 1992. Somerville, Margaret. Wildflowering: The Life and Places of Kathleen McArthur. Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 2004.Wright, Judith. Collected Poems: 1942 to 1985. Sydney: Harper Collins, 2016.———. Half a Lifetime. Melbourne: Text Publishing, 1999.

IntroductionIn 2011, Four Corners — the flagship current affairs program of the Australian national broadcaster, ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) — aired an investigative report on the conditions in Indonesian slaughterhouses. Central to the report was a focus on how Australian cows were being killed for human consumption. Moral outrage ensued. The Federal Government responded with a temporary ban on the live export of cattle to Indonesia. In 2010 the Australian Government initiated legal action in the International Court of Justice (ICJ) opposing Japanese whaling in the Southern Ocean, following a sustained period of public opposition. This article pays close attention to expressions of public opposition to the killing of what have come to be referred to as our cows and our whales, and the response of the Federal Government.Australia’s recent history with the live export of farmed animals and its transformation into an anti-whaling nation provides us with a foundation to analyse these contemporary disputes. In contrast to a focus on “Australian cow making” (Fozdar and Spittles 76) during the live export controversy, this article investigates the processes through which the bodies of cows and whales became sites for the mapping of Australian identity and nationhood – in other words, a relational construction of Australianness that we can identify as a form of animal nationalism (Dalziell and Wadiwel). What is at stake are claims about desired national self-image. In what we might consider as part of a history of cows and whales is in many ways a ‘history of people with animals in it” (Davis 551). In other words, these disputes are not really about cows and whales.The Live Export IndustryAustralia is the largest exporter of live farmed animals, primarily sheep and cows, to the Middle East and Southeast Asia respectively (Phillips and Santurtun 309). The live export industry is promoted and supported by the Federal Government, with an explicit emphasis on the conditions experienced by these farmed animals. According to the Government, “Australia leads the world in animal welfare practices … [and] does not tolerate cruelty towards animals and will not compromise on animal welfare standards” (Department of Agriculture and Water Resources). These are strong and specific claims about Australia’s moral compass. What is being asserted is the level of care and concern about how Australia’s farmed animals are raised, transported and killed.There is an implicit relationality here. To be a ‘world leader’ or to claim world’s best practice, there must be some form of moral or ethical measure to judge these practices against. We can locate these more clearly and directly in the follow-up sentence on the above claim: “Our ongoing involvement in the livestock export trade provides an opportunity to influence animal welfare conditions in importing countries” (Department of Agriculture and Water Resources). The enthusiasm expressed in this statement manifests in explicitly seeking to position Australia as an exporter of moral progress (see Caulfield 76). These are cultural claims about us.In its current form the Australian live export industry dates back to the early 1960s, with concerns about the material conditions of farmed animals in destination countries raised from the outset (Caulfield 72; Villanueva Pain 100). In the early 1980s animal activists formed the Australian Federation of Animal Societies to put forward a national unified voice. Protests and political lobbying lead to the formation of a Senate Select Committee on Animal Welfare, reflecting what Gonzalo Villanueva has referred to as a social and political landscape that “appeared increasingly favourable to discussing animal welfare” (Transnational 89-91).The Select Committee’s first report focussed on live export and explicitly mentioned the treatment of Australian farmed animals in the abattoirs of destination countries. The conditions in these facilities were described as being of a lower “standard of animal welfare” to those in Australia (Senate Select Committee on Animal Welfare xiii). These findings directly mirror the expressions of concern in the wake of the 2011 controversy.“A Bloody Business”On 30 May 2011, Four Corners aired a report entitled ‘A Bloody Business’ on the conditions in Indonesian slaughterhouses. The investigation followed-up on footage provided by Animals Australia and Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA Australia). Members from these groups had travelled to Indonesia in order to document conditions in slaughterhouses and prepare briefing notes which were later shared with the ABC. Their aim was to increase public awareness of the conditions Australian farmed cattle faced in Indonesia, provide a broader indictment of the live export industry, and call for an end the practice. The nationwide broadcast which included graphic footage of our cows being killed, enabled broader Australia to participate from the comfort of their own homes (see Della Porta and Diani 177-8).The program generated significant media coverage and public moral outrage (Dalziell and Wadiwel 72). Dr Bidda Jones, Chief Scientist of RSPCA Australia, referred to “28,000 radio stories, 13,000 TV mentions and 3,000 press stories” making it one of the top five national issues in the media for five weeks. An online petition created by the activist organisation GetUp! collected more than 260,000 signatures over a period of three days and $300,000 was raised for campaign advertising (Jones 102). Together, these media reports and protest actions influenced the Federal Government to suspend live exports to Indonesia. A front-page story in The Age described the Federal Government as having “caved in to public and internal party pressure” (Willingham and Allard). In her first public statement about the controversy, Prime Minister Julia Gillard outlined the Government’s intent: “We will be working closely with Indonesia, and with the industry, to make sure we can bring about major change to the way cattle are handled in these slaughter houses” (Willingham and Allard).The Prime Minister’s statement directly echoed the claims made on the Department of Agriculture and Water Resources website introduced above. Implicit is these statements is a perceived ability to bring about “major change” and an assumption that we kill better. Both directly align with claims of leading the world in animal welfare practices and the findings of the 1985 Select Committee report. Further, the controversy itself was positioned as providing an “opportunity to influence animal welfare conditions in importing countries” (Department of Agriculture and Water Resources).Four Corners provided a nationwide platform to influence decision-makers (see Della Porta and Diani 168-9). White, Director of Strategy for Animals Australia, expressed this concisely:We should be killing the animals here under Australian conditions, under our control, and then they should only be shipped as meat products, not live animals. (Ferguson, Doyle, and Worthington)Jones provided more context, describing the suffering experienced by “Australian cattle” in Indonesia as “too much,” especially when “a clear, demonstrated and successful alternative to the live export of animals” was already available (“Broader”; Jones 188). Implicit in these calls for farmed cows to be killed in Australia was an inference to technical and moral progress, evoking Australia’s “national self-image” as “a modern, principled culture” (Dalziell and Wadiwel 84). The clean, efficient and modern processes undertaken in Australia were relationally positioned against the bloody practices conducted in the Indonesian facilities. In other words, we kill cows in a nicer, more humane and better way.Australia and WhalingAustralia has a long and dynamic history with whaling (Salter). A “fervently” pro-whaling nation, the “rapidly growing” local industry went through a modernisation process in the 1950s (Day 19; Kato 484). Operations became "clean and smooth,” and death became "instant, swift and painless”. As with the live export controversy, an inference of a nicer, more humane and better way of killing was central the Australian whaling industry (Kato 484-85). Enthusiastic support for an Australian whaling industry was superseded within three decades by what Charlotte Epstein describes as “a dramatic historical turnabout” (Power 150). In June 1977, the International Whaling Commission (IWC) came to Canberra, and protests were organised across Australia to coincide with the meeting.The IWJ meeting was seen as a political opportunity. An IWC meeting being held in the last English-as-first-language nation with a commercial whaling operation provided an ideal target for the growing anti-whaling movement (Epstein, Power 149). In parallel, the opportunity to make whaling an electoral issue was seen as a priority for locally based activists and organisations (Pash 31). The collective actions of those campaigning against the backdrop of the IWC meeting comprised an array of performances (Tarrow 29). Alongside lobbying delegates, protests were held outside the venue, including the first use of a full-sized replica inflatable sperm whale by anti-whaling activists. See Image 1. The symbol of the whale became a signifier synonymous for the environment movement for decades to follow (see Epstein, Power 110-11). The number of environmental organisations attending exceeded those of any prior IWC meeting, setting in place a practice that would continue for decades to follow (M’Gonigle 150; Pash 27-8).Image 1: Protest at Australia’s last whaling station August 28, 1977. Photo credit: Jonny Lewis Collection.Following the IWC meeting in Canberra, activists packed up their equipment and prepared for the long drive to Albany in Western Australia. Disruption was added to their repertoire (Tarrow 99). The target was the last commercial whaling operation in Australia. Two months later, on August 28, demonstrations were held at the gates of the Cheynes Beach Whaling Company. Two inflatable Zodiac boats were launched, with the aim of positioning themselves between the whales being hunted and the company’s harpoon vessels. Greenpeace was painted on the side — the first protest action in Australia under the organisation’s banner (Pash 93-94).In 1978, Prime Minister Fraser formally announced an Inquiry into the future of whaling in Australia, seeking to position Australia as being on the right side of history, “taking a decisive step forward in the human consciousness” (Epstein, World 313). Underpinning announcement was a (re)purposing of whales bodies as a site for the mapping of relational constructions of Australian identity and nationhood:Many thousands of Australians — and men, women and children throughout the world — have long felt deep concern about the activities of whalers… I abhor any such activity — particularly when it is directed against a species as special and intelligent as the whale.(Qtd. in Frost vii)The actions of those protesting against whaling and the language used by Fraser in announcing the Inquiry signalled Australia’s becoming as the first nation in which “ethical arguments about the intrinsic value of the whale” displaced “scientific considerations of levels of endangerment” (Epstein, Power 150). The idea of taking action for whales had become about more than just saving their lives, it was an ethical imperative for us.Standing Up for (Our) WhalesThe Inquiry into “whales and whaling” provided specific recommendations, which were adopted in full by Prime Minister Fraser:The Inquiry’s central conclusion is that Australian whaling should end, and that, internationally, Australia should pursue a policy of opposition whaling. (Frost 206)The inquiry found that the majority of Australians viewed whaling as “morally wrong” and as a nation we should stand up for whales internationally (Frost 183). There is a direct reference here to the moral values of a civilised community, what Arne Kalland describes as a claim to “social maturity” (130). By identifying itself as a nation on the right side of the issue, Australia was pursuing a position of moral leadership on the world stage. The Whale Protection Act (1980) replaced the Whaling Act (1960). Australia’s policy of opposition to whaling was “pursued both domestically and internationally though the IWC and other organizations” (Day 19).Public opposition to whaling increased with the commencement of Japan’s scientific research whaling program in the Southern Ocean, and the dramatic actions of Greenpeace and Sea Shepherd Conservation Society. The Daily Telegraph which ran a series of articles under the banner of “our whales” in June 2005 (see, for example, Hossack; Rehn). The conservative Federal Government embraced the idea, with the Department of the Environment and Heritage website including a “Save Our Whales” page. Six months out from the 2007 federal election, opposition leader Kevin Rudd stated “It's time that Australia got serious when it comes to the slaughter of our whales” (Walters). As a “naturally more compassionate, more properly developed” people, we [Australians] had a duty to protect them (Dalziell and Wadiwel 84).Alongside oft-repeated claims of Australia’s status as a “world leader” and the priority placed on the protection of whales nationally and internationally, saveourwhales.gov.au wristbands were available for order from the government website — at no charge. By wearing one of these wristbands, all Australians could “show [their] support for the protection of whales and dolphins” (Department of the Environment and Heritage). In other words, the wearer could join together with other Australians in making a clear moral and ethical statement about both how much whales mean to us and that we all should stand up for them. The wristbands provided a means to individually and collectively express this is what we do in unobtrusive everyday way.Dramatic actions in the Southern Ocean during the 2008/09 whaling season received a broader audience with the airing of the first season of the reality TV series Whale Wars, which became Animal Planets most viewed program (Robé 94). As with A Bloody Business, Whale Wars provided an opportunity for a manifestly larger number of people to eyewitness the plight of whales (see Epstein, Power 142). Alongside the dramatised representation of the risky and personally sacrificial actions taken by the crew, the attitudes expressed reflected those of Prime Minister Fraser in 1977: protecting special and intelligent whales was the right and civilised thing to do.These sentiments were framed by the footage of activists in the series. For example, in episode four of season two, Lockhart McClean, Captain of the MV Gojira referred to Japanese whalers and their vessels as “evil” and “barbaric”, and their practices outdated. The drama of the series revolved around Sea Shepherd patrolling the Southern Ocean, their attempts to intervene against the Japanese fleet and protect our whales. The clear undercurrent here is a claim of moral progress, situated alongside an enthusiasm to export it. Such sentiments were clearly echoed by Bob Brown, a respected former member of federal parliament and spokesperson for Sea Shepherd: “It’s just a gruesome, bloody, medieval, scene which has no place in this modern world” (Japanese Whaling).On 31 May 2010 the Federal Government initiated proceedings against Japan in the ICJ. Four years later, the Court found in their favour (Nagtzaam, Young and Sullivan).Conclusion, Claims of Moral LeadershipHow the 2011 live export controversy and opposition to Japanese whaling in the Southern Ocean have unfolded provide us with an opportunity to explore a number of common themes. As Dalziell and Wadiwell noted with regard to the 2011 live export controversy, our “national self-image” was central (84). Both disputes encompass claims about us about how we want to be perceived. Whereas our cows and whales appear as key players, both disputes are effectively a ‘history of people with animals in it” (Davis 551). In other words, these disputes were not really about the lives of our farmed cows or whales.The Federal Government sought to reposition the 2011 live export controversy as providing (another) opportunity "to influence animal welfare conditions in importing countries,” drawing from our own claimed worlds-best practices (Department of Agriculture and Water Resources). The “solution” put forward by White and Jones solution was for Australian farmed cows to be killed here. Underpinning both was an implicit claim that we kill cows in a nicer, more humane and better way: "Australians are naturally more compassionate, more properly developed; more human” (Dalziell and Wadiwel 84).Similarly, the Federal Government’s pursuit of a position of world-leadership in opposing whaling was rooted in claims of our moral progress as a nation. Having formally recognised the specialness of whales in the 1970s, it was our duty to pursue their protection internationally. We could individually and collectively express national identity on our wrists, through wearing a government-provided saveourwhales.gov.au wristband. Collectively, we would not stand by and let the "gruesome, bloody, medieval” practice of Japanese whaling continue in our waters (“Japanese”). Legal action undertaken in the ICJ was the penultimate pronouncement.In short, expressions of concerns for our cows whales positioned their bodies as sites for the mapping of relational constructions of our identity and nationhood.Author’s NoteFor valuable comments on earlier drafts, I thank Talei Vulatha, Ben Hightower, Scott East and two anonymous referees.References“Broader Ban the Next Step: Animal Group.” Sydney Morning Herald, 8 June 2011. 11 July 2018 <https://www.smh.com.au/environment/conservation/broader-ban-the-next-step-animal-group-20110608-1frsr.html>.Caulfield, Malcolm. Handbook of Australian Animal Cruelty Law. North Melbourne: Animals Australia, 2009.Dalziell, Jacqueline, and Dinesh Joseph Wadiwel. “Live Exports, Animal Advocacy, Race and ‘Animal Nationalism’.” Meat Culture. Ed. Annie Potts. Brill Academic Pub., 2016. 73-89.Day, David. The Whale War. Random House, Inc., 1987.Della Porta, Donatella, and Mario Diani. Social Movements: An Introduction. 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