Deadly fungi are harming Australia’s wild reptiles. This is how to stop the spread

by bpckle | Oct 13, 2026 | In the Media

With spring underway and the weather warming, reptiles are on the move in suburbs, parks and bushland across Australia. Snake catchers and wildlife carers are responding to calls for help, and reptile enthusiasts – known as “herpers” – are heading outdoors in search of their next sighting.

Australia is rich in reptiles, with many of them found nowhere else. But our diverse species face increasing threats from fungal diseases.

Imagine you call a snake catcher to take a carpet python out of your roof, and they later attend another call-out across town. The same equipment they used at your home could potentially carry fungal pathogens from one encounter to the next, moving disease between animals and places.

In our new research, we explore how people handling reptiles may unknowingly spread fungal diseases, and what they can do to reduce this happening. The fixes are simple, inexpensive and easy to use in the field.

Diseases already affecting our wildlife

Several fungal pathogens are now known to infect wild Australian reptiles, including Ophidiomyces ophidiicola, the cause of snake fungal disease, and Nannizziopsis barbatae, which affects eastern water dragons and carpet pythons.

These infections can cause severe skin disease, disrupt shedding – where a snake discards its outer layer of skin to allow for growth – and leave animals weak and emaciated. In many cases they can be fatal. Overseas, snake fungal disease has been linked to a fall in wild snake populations.

We know relatively little about which Australian reptile species are the most vulnerable, making prevention especially important. Since these diseases were found in captive Australian reptiles in the past, the pet trade is a likely source of introduction into wild populations.

Infections are not always visible

The obvious advice is to leave sick-looking reptiles alone. But that’s not enough.

Reptiles can carry and shed fungal pathogens without obvious signs of disease. An animal may be newly infected, tolerate the infection without becoming visibly sick, or have recently recovered.

The fungi also persist in the environment, in the soil or decaying matter. Research on Brisbane’s water dragons found they were more likely to become infected from contaminated habitat, rather than direct contact with infected dragons.

So, a muddy boot, a used snake bag or an unwashed snake hook could potentially move fungal pathogens between animals and places without anyone realising.

How people could spread deadly fungus

Many people handle wild reptiles, including snake catchers, wildlife carers, ecotourism operators, ecological consultants, researchers and recreational “herpers”. Importantly, you should avoid handling wild reptiles unless appropriately trained, authorised or licensed to do so.

People who handle reptiles often move between locations in a short period of time, taking equipment with them. Although wildlife biosecurity guidelines recommend routine disinfection of equipment and clothing to prevent pathogen spread, this is not routine outside specialist programs. This means fungal pathogens can easily hitch a ride.

We don’t yet have evidence that people are spreading reptile fungal pathogens between wild Australian reptile populations. But the pathways exist, and similar concerns have arisen with other wildlife diseases. Amphibian chytrid fungus, which has devastated frog populations worldwide, has been spread to remote refuges through human activities, including tourism.

People who keep pet reptiles and also handle wild reptiles should take particular care. Snake fungal disease was detected in captive Australian snakes years before it was found in the wild, highlighting the importance of strong biosecurity.

What to do if you handle reptiles

We recommend a few simple steps to reduce the risk of spreading fungal pathogens:

• clean your hands between animals. Change disposable gloves, or use alcohol hand gel or wipes

• use one bag per animal, carry spare bags and wash before using them again

• clean your hooks and tools, then disinfect with 70% ethanol, diluted bleach or veterinary disinfectant and leave it on for 2-10 minutes

• clean your boots between sites by removing soil and disinfecting

• keep captive and wild reptiles separate, and use separate equipment

• if you see a sick-looking reptile with crusty or discoloured skin, leave it where it is, take a photograph and contact your local wildlife hospital or veterinarian.

None of these measures are expensive or difficult: a spray bottle of disinfectant, spare gloves and a few extra bags can fit easily into a field kit. Tour operators, wildlife groups and reptile organisations can make basic biosecurity equipment such as brushes, buckets and disinfectant readily available.

Handle with care, not fear

We are not asking people to stop interacting with reptiles. Rescue work, relocation, and research all rely on people working safely with reptiles, under specific authorisations. Close encounters with wildlife can inspire curiosity and support conservation.

Instead, we are asking reptile handlers to treat biosecurity as part of responsible wildlife stewardship, as frog researchers have done for years. A small change in your routine could make a big difference for Australia’s most unique reptiles.

Laura Grogan's research into emerging infectious diseases of wildlife receives funding from the Queensland Department of Environment, Science, Tourism and Innovation (DETSI), as well as the Wildlife Information, Rescue and Education Service (WIRES).

Shelly Butcher's research into emerging fungal diseases of reptiles receives funding from the Queensland Department of Environment, Science, Tourism and Innovation (DETSI), as well as the Wildlife Information, Rescue and Education Service (WIRES).

Patrick Champagne does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Over 40 years ago, a mystery vigilante released a fungus to control blackberry in Australia. But why?

by bpckle | Oct 13, 2026 | In the Media

Over the summer of 1983–84, a fungus called Phragmidium violaceum was introduced to Australia. It was done secretly, deliberately and illegally. And it was done for one purpose: to kill blackberry plants.

I’m a historian, not a detective. My recent research on the illicit introduction of violaceum (also known as ‘blackberry rust’) doesn’t identify a culprit. But it does shed light on one of Australia’s most significant and mysterious breaches of biosecurity over the past half-century.

Like so many other animals and plants, blackberry was deliberately introduced to Australia from Britain. The earliest records date to the 1840s. The plant was valued for its abundance of juicy fruit as well for its uses as a hedge. Few herbivores other than tough-lipped deer and goats can eat the thorny plant. But its delicious berries are prized by all sorts of animals, from foxes to fairywrens.

Every Australian knows common mynah birds are bad, rabbits are worse and feral cats kill native animals unchecked.

But how do we decide what makes an introduced species “good” or “bad” – and will we ever concede that some species are here to stay?

With the help of humans and animals, blackberry spread rapidly. By the late 1880s, it was becoming recognised as a serious agricultural weed. Unchecked, it forms dense, thorny thickets which are hard to reclaim as farmland.

When official control efforts began in the 1890s, they had little effect on the tough plant. But agricultural scientists were determined to find a solution – even if it took decades.

From cactus moths to blackberry rust

In the inter-war period, Australian scientists found a neat remedy to a far worse weed – prickly pear, an introduced cactus carpeting vast areas of pasture in New South Wales and Queensland.

In the mid-1920s, the Commonwealth Prickly Pear Board introduced the Cactoblastis moth from Argentina. These moths could kill the cactus while leaving native species untouched. By 1933, it was reported in the journal Nature 80% of the prickly pear “infesting” Queensland and 50-60% in NSW had been “destroyed”.

Cactoblastis is an example of biological control – when humans introduce a predator, parasite or pathogen in order to eradicate a pest. Think of it as weaponising ecology for human ends.

From the late 1960s, scientists at Victoria’s Keith Turnbull Research Institute began investigating blackberry rust as an agent of biological control. The fungus does not kill blackberry plants, but it does slow growth and reproduction.

In the early 1980s, the Institute sent one of their top scientists, Eligio Bruzzese, to a CSIRO laboratory in France to test the fungus. His experiments seemed to show the rust would work well and would not threaten more valued plants. He returned to Australia in early 1983.

But the Institute never got a chance to release the rust. In February 1984, the violaceum fungus was unexpectedly found on blackberry plants near Yarram in south-eastern Victoria.

Within days, more cases of rust were spotted over 100km away on blackberry plants growing in the Dandenong Ranges and in Melbourne’s eastern suburbs.

Science journalist Graeme O’Neill wrote in The Bulletin that the evidence indicated:

somebody visited Europe – probably France – and picked some leaves from rust-affected blackberries, returned with them… and dusted the fungal spores onto the leaves of blackberries […] Department of Agriculture officers actually located that first plant and noted the regular spacing between [other infected] plants

Had someone been prosecuted, they could have been punished with a A$100,000 fine or five years in prison. This was a crime with surprisingly high stakes.

There’s no suggestion Bruzzese was involved. In public statements, the frustrated scientist claimed the strains of violaceum he had hoped to introduce would have been far more effective.

That same year, federal parliament passed laws making it easier for scientists to research biological control.

When the Minister for Primary Industry, John Kerin, spoke in favour of the bill, he referenced the illegal introduction of violaceum as evidence of the need for more transparent regulation.

In 1991, authorities bowed to the inevitable and began releasing further strains of blackberry rust. Despite the controversy, the fungus only had a mild effect on blackberry. Authorities still rely on poison and manual control.

Why was it done?

It may be hard to understand how the humble blackberry could inspire someone to go to such extremes.

Sure, blackberry can be obnoxious from a human perspective. Even with the fungus circulating, the plant remains a nuisance for farmers. It’s listed as a Weed of National Significance. In 2017, authorities estimated it was costing Australia over $100 million annually across production losses and the expenses of “controlling” it.

But many species, introduced and native alike, cause headaches for farmers and other land managers. Not all of them provoke such dramatic responses.

In 1984, authorities assumed a disgruntled farmer was responsible. But this isn’t certain.

Blackberry affects all sorts of people. The plant’s thorns are a persistent nuisance to bushwalkers, cyclists and horseriders. Rampant blackberry blocks off paths and watercourses. It has been deemed an environmental weed, too, although it also provides important food and habitat for native animals such as bandicoots.

In short, there were many reasons why someone might have done it.

Seeing the other side of blackberry

Unlike many weeds, blackberry also has its defenders. Through the 1980s and ‘90s, news stories about violaceum prompted some Australians to write of their fondness for blackberry. Blackberry wasn’t just a British or European plant anymore. Many Australians now had their own cherished memories of picking berries.

Blackberry has now been in Australia close to 200 years. It has become naturalised and – to a degree – normalised.

Unless scientists discover a much more effective method of biological control, it’s probably here to stay. That will mean more valuable pasture lost and more nasty scratches for bushwalkers. But it will also mean more habitat for urban bandicoots and more delicious fruit for the adventurous.

The good might not outweigh the bad, but for the time being, we may have to learn to be more accepting of blackberry where we can.

This whodunnit may never be solved. But the case of the blackberry rust reminds us that weeds – and our responses to them – can be more complicated than they first appear.

Simon Farley does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

What can free-living Indian street dogs teach us about how to care for pet dogs?

by bpckle | Oct 12, 2026 | In the Media

We give our pet dogs shelter, veterinary care, affection, training and play. We decide when they eat, where they sleep, when they go outside, who they meet, and how they move through the world.

We love our dogs and we want them to be safe. But there’s a flipside. Our care often comes with confinement, restricted movement, limited social choice and constant supervision.

Separation anxiety is a growing issue. Diagnoses of dog behavioural issues rose tenfold between 2010 and 2020 in the United States. Dog behaviour specialists and organisations have emerged to help dogs cope with the challenges of modern pet life.

We often assume the long history of domestication has made dogs dependent on us. But this isn’t true. Most of the world’s dogs do not live as pets – they roam freely, without containment or ownership.

What can these dogs teach us about what constitutes a good dog life? In our new research, we explore what happened when 45 Western-trained dog behaviour specialists went to India to observe free-living street dogs. What they saw spoke to the tension at the heart of owning a dog. We love them, but we control them.

Learning to see free-living dogs

India has an estimated 60 million street dogs.

These dogs live alongside people. But they aren’t owned. They move through streets, markets and public spaces. They scavenge for food or are given leftovers by people.

Our participants were experienced professionals who had spent years working with pet dogs suffering from anxieties, aggression or other behavioural problems.

Importantly, they were willing to test their assumptions about dog welfare against direct encounters with dogs living very different lives.

Some expected to see dogs with a freedom or resilience missing from the lives of many pet dogs. But most expected to see hardship – dogs in conflict, in poor health or having to live in constant vigilance.

Their expectations point to the idea that dog safety and care is tied to human management and control.

Life on the streets

Our participants found the lives of India’s street dogs compelling. Many described them as socially skilled, physically robust and capable.

The dogs could independently thread their way through intensely busy city streets and move confidently through crowds. They solved conflicts with subtle signals through barks and postures rather than prolonged fights, and chose when to approach or disengage from people.

Participants felt the street dogs seemed calm and settled, rather than overwhelmed by the noise of traffic and crowds. This was a sharp contrast to their experiences of pet dogs, who could often escalate behaviour in response to smaller issues.

There is no universal template

It would be easy to turn our research into a simple comparison: street dogs are free, pet dogs are captive.

That’s not the point. The point is there’s no universal template for a good dog life.

Free-living dogs face serious risks that pet dogs largely avoid, from disease to injury to hunger to human hostility. We can’t simply give pet dogs the lives of free-living dogs.

Many pet dogs spend much of their lives indoors, behind fences, on leads, in cars or in crates. We often directly instruct them what to do and have highly scheduled routines.

When a problem such as anxiety or poor impulse control arises, an owner can often interpret it as a problem stemming from the dog. But dog behaviour is relational – it emerges from interactions between dogs and humans.

Is confinement care?

As the dog behaviour experts moved from city to city, many began questioning their internal models of what welfare looks like for a dog. Was good care equated with confinement and obedience?

As one put it:

when we tell our dogs you can only heel […] are we telling them to be stressed because we’re limiting their behavioural diversity?

Many questioned whether efforts to give pet dogs safe and loving lives might be making it harder for their beloved pets to develop confidence, adaptability and social competence.

The result might be dogs who struggle with anxiety when left alone or bark at strangers. Others might react aggressively to other dogs or panic in busy places.

These behaviours are real and often distressing. But humans often respond by doubling down on restraint and control.

Asking better questions

For our participants, the experience of interpreting street dogs as competent and independent led them to reflect on how pet dogs could be given more autonomy.

Some participants experienced a striking reversal in their thinking.

They arrived in India wondering how free-living dogs could survive without people constantly protecting them. They left wondering whether some common behavioural challenges might reflect not failures within pet dogs – but in the conditions we create for them.

Many participants told us their guiding question had changed from “how do street dogs survive?” to “how do pet dogs survive us?” by the end of the tour.

It wasn’t that free-living dogs necessarily live better lives. But to survive on the streets, they employ a wide range of skills – from social to navigation to finding food – that Western dog owners do for their pets. If pet dogs are too restricted, they become frustrated and act out.

What if, as one participant wondered, dog owners gave their dogs more control:

what happens when […] you’re not controlling every single aspect of their lives? When dogs are free to make their own decisions, they learn how to handle things.

Daniel Ramp receives funding from multiple funding organisations. This research was funded by the Wellcome Trust for Collaborative Award in Humanities and Social Sciences. He is affiliated with the animal protection charity Voiceless.

Kapil V. Patwardhan owns a dog welfare and behaviour consultancy, Floof, based in Pune, India. Before beginning his PhD, he organised the tour on which this research is based.

Rosalie Chapple's research was funded by the Wellcome Trust for Collaborative Award in Humanities and Social Sciences.