Do dolphins grieve the way humans do?
A dolphin mother has carried its calf’s remains for 11 days in what researchers believe could potentially reveal something new about dolphin mourning.
A dolphin mother has carried its calf’s remains for 11 days in what researchers believe could potentially reveal something new about dolphin mourning.
Australia’s beloved animals are again under threat as the H5N1 strain of bird flu spreads, with more mass deaths expected. Scientists are bracing for another wave of ecological loss and are particularly concerned about rare and threatened species.
It’s normal to find this news overwhelming, especially in the wake of a growing list of environmental disasters: from algal blooms to coral bleaching, and floods and fires that devastate wildlife and ecosystems.
We research ecological grief – the deep sadness people feel about the loss of nature – and climate emotions – human feelings in response to the climate crisis. We have listened to hundreds of people talk about their feelings about our environment, and their fears and hopes for its future. Some describe sadness, anger or concern. Others try to avoid bad news.
These responses are rarely simple. They are often rooted in particular places and species we love, and in the memories, identities and relationships attached to them. Because of this, grief can co-exist with feelings like awe, pride, belonging and care.
Here, we share some ways to make space for your feelings and find connection and support.

Grief is an understandable response to witnessing harm to places and species that matter to us. We might experience environmental loss directly, particularly when we live or work in threatened places. At other times, we encounter it through news and social media, or against the wider backdrop of future threats such as climate change. Because ecological loss is ongoing, cumulative, and sometimes ambiguous, we need to practise support, connection and care in ways that we can sustain over time.
Yet our feelings in response to loss are often hard to talk about, especially when they are minimised or dismissed by others. Our society is not very good at “doing grief”. Death is difficult to understand, and can feel like something to be avoided at all costs.
In addition, many of us have lost the rituals and gathering places that enable us to process loss together, such as those offered through spiritual or cultural practices. This can lead to disenfranchised grief, when loss is not acknowledged or validated, leaving people feeling isolated.
Becoming more “grief literate” means developing the knowledge, values and practical skills to understand grief, and support ourselves and others. For environmental loss, this might involve talking with people who are feeling a similar way, spending time in restorative places, or making art, either alone or in groups.

The good news is communities and professionals are coming together to support people as they grapple with ecological loss. In Australia, organisations like Psychology for a Safe Climate host a network of mental health practitioners who are aware of the realities of climate change and can provide professional support.
Psychology for a Safe Climate also offers regular “climate cafes”, where people can connect with others who share concerns about beloved species and ecosystems.
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples have learnt to live amid the drastic changes to Country wrought by centuries of colonisation. Their knowledge and practices offer a vital source of wisdom for all, but must be treated with respect and reciprocity if they are offered beyond their own communities. We Al-li shares Indigenous cultural traditions and trauma informed practices through online courses and other training.
Across the world, new groups are forming to support people grappling with ecological grief. US-based not-for-profit Good Grief Network runs peer-to-peer programs delivered by over 180 facilitators globally. Another organisation, Radical Joy, invites people to “make beauty in a wounded place”, either together or alone.
As we work with people experiencing ecological loss, we are slowly learning to notice and respond to how we are feeling in ourselves. This might include noticing we need to rest, or take a break from news about ecological “doom”.
It might be as simple as going outside and feeling the grass under our feet, or the wind on our face.
For people in environmental professions, Claudia’s team at the University of Queensland have created an ecological grief resource to guide workplaces to provide better support. It encourages compassionate listening with a colleague, which involves listening without judging or offering solutions. It also suggests undertaking a project – like holding a remembrance event or creating something using art – to honour a loss.
With colleagues at Black Dog Institute and the University of Sydney, Chloe developed an activity booklet for young people, families and all those interested in creative tools for exploring climate and environmental feelings. It provides joyful, open-ended prompts for drawing, photography, and writing that can help people of all ages understand their relationship to the natural world.

Perhaps most importantly, we have learned that paying attention to feelings like ecological grief is not a distraction from responding to pressing environmental challenges.
By making space for grief, you also create opportunities for care, connection and action. This can sustain us all for the long haul, helping us focus on small, achievable changes without losing sight of the bigger picture.
If you are experiencing overwhelming grief or emotional distress, free and confidential support is available anytime in Australia. Call Lifeline at 13 11 14, Griefline at 1300 845 745, or Beyond Blue at 1300 22 4636.
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Chloe Watfern is a climate cafe facilitator with Psychology for a Safe Climate. She is a volunteer leader of Parents for Climate's Townsville and Surrounds group.
Claudia Benham has received funding from the Australian Research Council for research on ecological grief and eco-emotions.

Australia is installing home batteries at extraordinary speed.
Around 600,000 homes now have one, and more than 400,000 batteries were installed in the 12 months to June 2026. This growth has largely been driven by the federal Cheaper Home Batteries Program, which initially cut the upfront cost of eligible batteries by about 30%.
This is promising news. Batteries can help households use more of their own solar power and keep essential appliances running during a blackout. They also lower evening grid demand.
But there is a catch. A large battery can store more electricity, but can’t fix a house that wastes energy. That’s where our new research comes in.
Our new paper reviewed 97 studies on off-grid and self-sufficient housing. There was plenty of sophisticated research on solar panels, batteries and backup systems, but much less attention was paid to the design of the house itself.
Enter: architects.
A home’s orientation, insulation, windows, shading, ventilation and room layout all shape how much energy it consumes. Architects make decisions about these features early in the design process, often long before a battery installer becomes involved.
When these decisions are thoughtfully made, the house can remain comfortable while using less heating and cooling. This reduces the amount of electricity that must be supplied by solar panels and batteries.
A poorly insulated house, for example, will need heavy heating on a chilly winter’s evening. And if it has large, unshaded and west-facing windows, its rooms could overheat in summer.
After the sun goes down, your house may rely on electricity from a battery, the grid or another backup source such as a diesel or petrol generator. If your existing battery can’t meet your after-dark energy needs, you might rush out to buy a bigger one. However, buying a larger battery to cover avoidable demand is a bit like fitting a bigger fuel tank to a car that uses too much petrol. You may travel further before refuelling, but the car is still inefficient.
Read more: Batteries are getting cheaper while gas gets pricier. Here’s why
Our research team took a closer look at a newly built off-grid family home near Armidale, in the cool climate of regional New South Wales.
Traditionally, the architecture and energy system of a house are designed in separate stages. In this project, however, the architect and energy specialists worked together from early in the design process. This ensured:
the home was positioned to capture more northern sunlight in winter but less in summer
its insulation, glazing, construction materials and internal zoning – how a home is divided into functional areas – were designed to reduce heating and cooling demand
the family’s appliances and daily routines were considered when estimating how much power the house would need.
Compared with the initial off-grid energy system design, the final solar-and-battery system reduced usable battery storage by about 19%, from 56 to 45.6 kilowatt hours. The estimated upfront cost of the solar-and-battery system fell by around A$11,000, or 15%. And these changes had little effect on the reliability of the energy system.
However, this is just one off-grid home, so these savings can’t be replicated for every household. Its battery is also much larger than those typically needed in grid-connected homes as this home must store enough power for use when solar generation is low, such as at night and during cloudy periods.
Read more: ‘A giant blanket’: how better insulation lowers energy costs for you and the grid
Building an energy-efficient home is all about the process: start by reducing unnecessary energy use, then size the battery around your house and your family’s energy needs.
But before shopping for a battery, you should consider:
when you use electricity, such as after school pick-up or just before bedtime, not just the figure on your last bill. You can also review a full year of smart-meter data to identify trends in your energy use
the storage capacity and power output of your existing battery. Capacity refers to how much energy the battery can hold, while power output tells you how many appliances it can run at once
if you have solar panels, how much power your panels produce. Most solar systems let you check this through the inverter display or the manufacturer’s monitoring app
if you can use appliances during daylight hours and whether your house is well shaded and insulated. If it isn’t, you can make several straightforward upgrades such as adding insulation and sealing draughts.
Read more: Racing to buy a home battery? Read this first
In Australia, early government rebate schemes offered higher discounts for larger batteries. As a result, the average battery capacity of Australian homes rose sharply. However, this rebate structure created a much stronger incentive to buy larger systems.
In May 2026, the rules changed so support now falls as battery size increases. This is a sensible correction.
However, policy could go further by linking battery rebates with home-energy assessments, where an accredited home-energy assessor inspects your home’s construction, insulation, windows and shading. This gives you a rating to help identify ways to make your home more energy-efficient. Rebate schemes should also account for upgrades such as insulation, external shading and efficient appliances.
Australia’s battery boom is welcome. But the best battery is not necessarily biggest one. Instead, it’s the one matches your energy needs, the design of your home and our rapidly changing climate.
Read more: Australia’s $2.3 billion green energy program is funding oversized batteries and blowing out in cost
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Jena Glover receives funding from the National Industry PhD program for her research.
Mohammad Sanjari, Peyman Akhgar, and Ruby Michael do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The economic ramifications of the closure of the Strait of Hormuz are much discussed. But so far, the risk of ecological damage following a long blockade of ships has been overlooked.
Our recent research shows the more than 1,500 commercial vessels that have been laid up in the Persian/Arabian Gulf since February pose a significant environmental threat because they have been accumulating marine biofouling species on their hulls.
As the strait reopens, these ships may spread these organisms to ports they visit, potentially causing an international biosecurity “super-spreader” event.
Such incursions of alien marine plants, animals, parasites and diseases affect native ecosystems and wild fisheries as well as aquaculture stocks and coastal industries. They can lead to significant environmental damage and economic losses.
But the closure of the Strait of Hormuz is not the first time shipping disruptions have resulted in significant biofouling on idle vessels.
Global merchant vessel traffic is the main mode of transport for commodities, and researchers have identified 24 choke points in maritime trade.
But 20 of these have alternative routes, meaning shipping can be managed by re-routing vessels. This can take longer and cost more but avoids mass layups.
Only four choke points have no alternative routes, including the Strait of Hormuz, the Oresund Strait in the Baltic Sea, the Bosporus and Dardanelles straits out of the Black Sea, and the Bohai Strait in the Bohai Sea.
Disruptions at choke points can be caused by conflicts and wars (Strait of Hormuz, Suez Canal), terrorism and piracy (Bab el-Mandeb Strait in the Red Sea, Malacca Strait between Malaysia and Indonesia), maritime accidents (Suez Canal, 2021) and environmental impacts such as drought (Panama Canal in 2019 and 2023).
But disruptions can also be intentional. At any time, around 1% of the global commercial fleet is deliberately laid up because ships are taken out of service due to economic oversupply, seasonal market dynamics or the need for maintenance and upgrades.
Economic downturns such as the global financial crisis in 2008 have led to mass vessel layups following a sharp decline in global imports and exports. Thousands of vessels – about 10% of global container vessels and and 25% of refrigerated vessels – were lying idle at anchor or pulled out of service.
The oil crisis during the 1970s laid up 466 tankers globally.
Large fishing fleets undergo seasonal layups associated with regulatory closures and weather-related limitations. For example, the conservation-related fishing closure in the South China Sea between May and August results in thousands of vessels laid up each year.
Similarly, fishing fleets in the North Pacific and Bering Sea operate within restricted seasonal windows and spend the off-season in a few high-density ports.
Stationary vessels can accumulate large amounts of biofouling in a short time, especially in tropical waters. When vessels subsequently leave locations, they take those species to new regions, potentially delivering the next alien animal or plant pest, parasite or disease.
The Persian/Arabian Gulf is home to more than 50 marine non-native species and many species native to the region have already been introduced across the globe.
While New Zealand and Australia are not likely to receive a large number of vessels trapped in and near the Strait of Hormuz in the first month after reopening, research suggests numerous ships carrying potentially invasive species will be arriving within a year.
Both New Zealand and Australia have well-developed biosecurity rules and strong regulatory frameworks in place. This includes early detection and rapid response capabilities if ships with biofouling risk factors are identified.
For example, Biosecurity New Zealand was able to screen and take action when cruise ships were laid up during the COVID pandemic. Affected ships had to leave New Zealand waters or conduct maintenance to ensure their hulls and niche areas (propellers and rudders) were at an acceptable biosecurity standard of cleanliness.
However, management of biofouling on commercial vessels arriving for a short time remains challenging. We recommend the following actions to manage the biofouling risk for vessels arriving from the Strait of Hormuz region.
Inspection to estimate the level of biofouling prior to departure. Several services exist in the region to assist in this task. Use of environmental DNA sampling near vessels could assist in identifying the level of biosecurity threat.
When possible, in-water cleaning prior to departure from the Persian/Arabian Gulf region. However, this should capture ship biofouling and coating debris rather than further expose the environment to new introductions and contaminants. Safe and effective cleaning at the earliest opportunity will decrease bioinvasion threats.
Forecasting of vessel routes, specifically identifying the first port after departing the gulf, and communicating with port and national authorities to assess biosecurity risks.
National authorities and ports that receive vessels should implement early detection and rapid response using environmental DNA or low-cost, rapid assessments to identify new invasion events sufficiently early to respond.
Authorities should establish rapid alerts and dissemination networks to share biosecurity events.
The opportunity to mitigate the impacts of this potential super-spreader event, and other similar events, requires global cooperation and action to protect our environments, economies and social values from marine biological invasions and their effects.
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Chad Hewitt has previously received funding from the NZ Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment, Biosecurity New Zealand, and the Australian Department of Agriculture, Fisheries and Forestry.
Gregory Ruiz receives funding (or has in the past) from California Department of Fish and Wildlife, Cawthron Institute, Prince William Sound Citizens' Advisory Council, U.S. Bureau of Ocean Energy Management, U.S. Department of Homeland Security, and U.S. National Science Foundation.
Ian Davidson receives funding (or has in the past) from the Ministry for Business, Innovation and Employment; the Department of Conservation, and the Ministry for Primary Industries.
Mario Tamburri receives funding (or has in the past) from the US Maritime Administration, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, Geological Survey, Department of Defense, the National Science Foundation, and the Maryland Port Administration.

Nature is not doing well in Australia. Many unique mammals, birds and insects are struggling. Entire ecosystems are collapsing.
In response, the federal government signed a global pledge in 2022 to protect and restore nature. The global goal is to restore 30% of degraded ecosystems. But Australia only proposes to have “priority degraded areas […] under effective restoration by 2030”. The terms are not defined, no 30% target is included, and there is no method proposed to measure success.
With 2030 less than four years away, it’s time to ask hard questions. What does it actually mean to restore nature? What would success look like? And what would it cost?
If we walk through protected forests with abundant wildlife, we might think the end goal is simple: more of this.
The problem is, many current ecosystems – communities of species – look very different to those before European colonisation began in 1788. Some ecosystems no longer exist.
The tireless burrowing of millions of bandicoots and bettongs once shaped the grassy woodlands of southeast Australia. But foxes and cats, coupled with logging, farming and mining, have largely put an end to their work as ecosystem engineers.
Regent honeyeaters were once seen in “immense flocks” in eucalypt forests. There are now less than 300 birds left – so few they are losing their song.
Oyster reefs once carpeted southern seas so densely colonial ships struggled to navigate them. But the reefs were quickly dredged to near-extinction and now exist only in fragments.
It’s hard to judge the health of nature when so much has been lost. This is known as shifting baseline syndrome – each new generation will see nature’s current level of degradation as normal.

Gone from living memory doesn’t mean gone for good. The historic record is richer than most people realise.
For tens of thousands of years, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders managed Country using fire and selective harvesting, based on an intimate knowledge of seasonal cycles and species behaviour that Western science is only beginning to appreciate.
Much of this stewardship has been encoded in language, ceremony and oral tradition and passed down. This is how we know millions of bogong moths once gathered in alpine areas to cluster on cave walls and enter a low-energy state over the hot summer. Their migration once supported the gathering of many nations for ceremony.
Early colonial journals, field guides, fisheries ledgers and ship logs describe a different continent. In the upper Murray River, diaries from explorers Hume and Hovell describe abundant Murray cod, and lagoons “literally crowded with wild ducks”.
Fossils such as bone fragments left by owls over thousands of years also help us envisage earlier ecosystems.
It’s useful to reconstruct what Australian ecosystems once looked like. But this work offers reference points for nature restoration, not goals.
In some cases, we cannot recreate the lost ecosystems of 1788. Today’s climate is already very different to that of 238 years ago and climatic change is intensifying. Introduced species have also altered many ecosystems irrevocably.
It’s also false to assume ecosystems are static – they never were. Australia’s ecosystems have been managed by people for tens of thousands of years.
A better goal would be to strive for biodiverse, functional ecosystems, informed by past conditions and practices. We should focus on what we value most about landscapes, rather than solely focusing on recreating the past.
Restoring biodiversity requires working at landscape scale to reintroduce cultural burning, manage invasive species, replant and reseed vegetation, give rivers more water, keep livestock numbers sustainable, connect remaining areas of habitat and bring back species once found in an area.
The high profile Gondwana Link in Western Australia shows how restoration requires linking fragments of habitat so animals and plants can better move through the landscape as well as invasive species control and returning traditional fire regimes.

Over the last 12 years, the amount of protected land has almost doubled. The problem is, this growth has largely not been in areas where it matters most.
There’s been less growth in important areas closer to population centres, which are home to threatened and culturally important species. Unfortunately, the most threatened places are often sought after for farming or development.
We need to honestly acknowledge this tension, rather than pretending we can restore Australia’s ecosystems using marginal or abandoned land.
Policymakers will need to make difficult choices. If an ecosystem is almost gone, those last precious remnants need protection – even if they could be turned into farms or suburbs.
The global target is to restore 30% of degraded ecosystems. But Australia hasn’t announced a numerical target.
The nation has 418 million hectares of land modified enough to be considered “degraded”, according to a new CSIRO dataset. If Australia aimed to restore 30%, that would mean 125 million hectares. This is a concrete target – the kind that means we will know if we meet it or not.
If policymakers set this as a target, they would need to carefully decide which areas are chosen. The good news: we know how to prioritise restoration.
Restoring nature faces real obstacles. But it is possible.
Aiming to restore 30% of degraded land would mean working across private lands, public reserves and the Indigenous estate. It would likely take decades and come with a substantial price tag. Our ballpark figure is a little over A$7 billion a year over 30 years.
That’s less than a third of what the federal government spends subsidising activities which damage nature annually.
The shifting baseline means it’s hard to see what has been lost. But most of Australia’s native species still exist. The knowledge is there. And we know restoration at scale is possible.
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Michelle Ward has received funding from the Australian Research Council, National Environmental Science Program, Queensland's Department of Environment, Science and Innovation, Queensland Conservation Council, Australian Conservation Foundation, the Wilderness Society, the Australian federal government and WWF Australia.
Brendan Wintle receives funding from the Australian Research Council, the Victorian, NSW and Queensland governments, the Commonwealth National Environmental Science Program, the Ian Potter Foundation, the Hermon Slade Foundation and the Australian Conservation Foundation. He is a Board Director of Zoos Victoria and a lead councillor of the Biodiversity Council.
Jack Pascoe has received funding from the Australia Research Council. He is a director of Bush Heritage Australia and the Southern Australian Aboriginal Land and Sea Management Alliance. Jack is affiliated with Zoos Victoria, Saltwater People and Back to Country.
James Watson has received funding from the Australian Research Council, National Environmental Science Program, South Australia's Department of Environment and Water, Queensland's Department of Environment, Science and Innovation as well as from Bush Heritage Australia, Queensland Conservation Council, Australian Conservation Foundation, the Wilderness Society and BirdLife Australia. He serves on the scientific committee of BirdLife Australia and has a long-term scientific relationship with Bush Heritage Australia and Wildlife Conservation Society. He serves on the Queensland government's Land Restoration Fund's Investment Panel as the Deputy Chair.
Martine Maron has received funding from various sources including the Australian Research Council, the Queensland Department of Environment and Science, and the federal government's National Environmental Science Program, and has advised both state and federal government on conservation policy. She is a member of the Wentworth Group of Concerned Scientists, a director of the Australian Wildlife Conservancy, a councillor with the Biodiversity Council, and leads the IUCN's thematic group on Impact Mitigation and Ecological Compensation under the Commission on Ecosystem Management.