I feared bushfires had destroyed the Kangaroo Island I loved — but found beauty and resilience when I returned

I’ve just slipped into the shower, when I experience the strange sensation that I’m being watched. It’s unusual, given that I’m staying at the Oceanview Eco Villas, which are set on 500 acres of private land.

But sure enough, when I turn around, four eyes peer back at me. Two kangaroos, pressed up to the window, give me the once-over, before bounding away.

Only about a 30-minute flight southeast of Adelaide, Kangaroo Island lives up to its name. It’s long been marketed as the place to have an Australian safari experience, where it’s possible to see tammar wallabies, short-beaked echidnas, koalas and Australian sea lions, all within the span of one day.

But in January 2020, catastrophic bushfires swept across the 4,405-square-kilometre landscape, destroying the habitats of rare endemic species, including glossy black cockatoos and the Kangaroo Island dunnart, a small marsupial. Although fire is a natural part of the country, the scale of the event was described as “once in a century.” Scenes of green were transformed to grey-scale, and the tourism-reliant island saw its visitor numbers drop dramatically.

This isn’t a story of heartbreak and loss, though. This is a story of resilience. Over the past year and a half, Kangaroo Island’s environment has begun to regenerate, in some unexpected ways. Researchers have discovered rare flora such as the black-beak duck orchid, which hadn’t been recorded here for nearly three decades. Endangered fauna that were feared wiped out on the island — including the world’s smallest possum, the rare pygmy possum — are also being sighted again.

“So many people thought it was all gone,” says Blair Wickham, a guide with Exceptional Kangaroo Island (EKI), as we drive toward the west end of the island. He’s referring to news reports and social media suggesting the entire island was destroyed. In fact, only about 46 per cent was touched by the fires.

I was one of those people. I feared that the very place that had made me fall in love with Australia eight years ago — and eventually move to the country — had been destroyed. Yet, for the most part, it looks like the unbridled wilderness I remember from past visits: Kangaroos bask in sun-soaked fields, gum trees tower along the edges of the road, and wedge-tailed eagles — Australia’s largest birds of prey — soar overhead. We may only be 15 kilometres from the mainland, but this is a world all its own.

It’s not until we begin to near Flinders Chase National Park, the disaster’s epicentre, that the landscape shifts. But instead of black, I’m relieved to see vivid green. The scorched trees are now in encased in fresh epicormic growth, an almost furlike covering of vegetation that resembles something out of a Tim Burton film. They’re surrounded by countless yakka spikes, the first blooms to appear after the bushfires.

“It’s the ecosystem’s last line of defence,” says Wickham, explaining that both are a vital food source for bugs and birds.

I’m having a hard time processing that there even was a fire, but for every sign of new life, there’s a reminder of the ones lost. At the entrance to the park, a koala sits high in the branches of a charred tree. Just beyond is where the visitor centre once stood. Gone, too, is the Kangaroo Island Wilderness Retreat, a hotel on the park’s edges where I once watched wallabies hop by my room. It’s unlikely I’ll see any today; an estimated 90 per cent of the park’s macropods were killed in the fires.

“It came through in a wave. In four to six hours, the park was burnt,” says Heiri Klein, National Parks and Wildlife Service (NPWS) conservation ecologist.

In the aftermath, Klein’s team was most concerned about the park’s 12 nationally threatened mammal species. They made plans to create breeding populations of the mouselike Kangaroo Island dunnart, which lost nearly all of its habitat. But what they discovered surprised them: In post-fire surveys, dunnart populations were larger than anticipated.

Botanists combing the landscape also found species that hadn’t been seen for 60 to 70 years, along with plants that had never been seen on the island before, such as native watercress and an entirely new species of Trithuria (a mosslike plant). Many of these are pyrophytic species, meaning they require smoke, heat and ash to germinate. Fire is required for regrowth. Without it, biodiversity suffers.

“A lot of people think fire is devastation,” says Klein. “But it would be absolutely devastating if we never had a fire.”

New plant growth isn’t the only thing that’s sprung up on the island since the fires. Also new is the Kangaroo Island Koala and Wildlife Rescue Centre. Inside, on the wall hangs a map annotated with sticky notes. Each indicates the areas where volunteers systematically scoured for koalas in the days after the fire. A helicopter with infrared technology was chartered to spot the marsupials, then a tree climber was dispatched to reach them.

In total, around 650 koalas were recovered, with injuries of varying severity. Structures to house them were quickly built, using spare materials at hand. Only 250 ultimately survived, but with the world’s attention on Australia, donations began to pour in.

“We’ve always done rescue and rehab, but the silver lining of the fires is we now have the facilities and funding to do it,” animal rescuer Dana Mitchell tells me, as she bottle-feeds a joey.

The support didn’t just come in cash — it also arrived in the form of tourists who wanted to give back. After the fires, tour operator EKI initially launched new food and wine itineraries. Instead, they found that visitors were more interested in learning about bushfire ecology and supporting the island’s recovery.

Now, EKI’s guests can replant drooping sheoak trees (the primary food source for glossy black cockatoos), check remote cameras to monitor wildlife populations, or spend a day in the field with world-leading echidna expert Dr. Peggy Rismiller.

But while the community is experiencing new life post-bushfires, they’re still cautious for the future. At one point, we see smoke plumes on the horizon, and almost immediately, Wickham pulls over to check an app to ensure it’s controlled. This, he tells me, has become a reflex for the island’s 5,000 residents. Yet, the lack of fire is also a concern. He points out dry brown sections of bush — it’s tinder poised to ignite.

It will be months or even years before the full impact of the 2020 bushfires is known. Surveys are currently evaluating wildlife, such as the endangered white-bellied sea eagles that nest high in the cliff faces. Until then, Kangaroo Island is preparing for what tourism may look like when international visitors can finally return.

Already, a new boardwalk and visitor centre is underway at Flinders Chase, while the luxury Southern Ocean Lodge is also being rebuilt. And Klein assures me that by the time Australia borders reopen, Canadian visitors likely won’t see any evidence of the bushfires that washed across the landscape, transforming it into something entirely new.

Writer Jessica Wynne Lockhart travelled as a guest of the South Australia Tourism Commission, which did not review or approve this article. The Star understands the restrictions on travel during the coronavirus pandemic. But like you, we dream of travelling again, and we’re publishing this story with future trips in mind.