This week, a ranger in New Zealand was asked to apologise to a kea—for calling it a “bird.” The Department of Conservation responded with a ceremony, a plaque, and a new term: “beak-enabled sky entity.”

It’s satire, yes. But it also stings.

Because here in Australia, our kangaroos are being slaughtered every night. Shot, orphaned, commodified. And no one’s apologising. No one’s holding ceremonies. No one’s saying: “We see you. We hear you. We’re sorry.”

This blog is a plea. For truth. For compassion. For a real Sorry Day—one that honours the lives lost, and the joeys left behind.

If we can apologise for a word, surely we can apologise for a wound.

When Good Intentions Aren’t Enough: MOP vs Carer

Every day across Australia, joeys are picked up by well-meaning members of the public—people who act from love, instinct, and a desire to help. But without training, that help can quickly become harm.

This blog isn’t about blame. It’s about clarity. It’s about showing the difference between a Member of the Public (MOP) and a trained Wildlife Carer—and why that difference can mean life or death for a joey.

We’re not talking about how a joey can enrich your life. We’re talking about how we enrich hers—so she can return to the wild, strong, healthy, and free, with her new mob. That journey takes 18 to 24 months, and it begins with one decision:

Six Years of Amaris – A Sanctuary Story

Six years ago, eight joeys and a leap of faith brought me to Amaris. What began as a road trip from Albany became the foundation of a sanctuary built on love, resilience, and wild hope. This blog is a reflection on the journey—what we’ve learned, who we’ve lost, and the quiet miracles that continue to unfold in the bush.

Across Australia, in every corner of bushland and every roadside verge, there are people quietly changing the world—one rescue at a time. Today, on International Day of Rural Women, we pause to honor the women (and men) who dedicate their lives to wildlife care. They are the ones who rise before dawn to mix bottles, check pouches, and respond to calls that come in the middle of the night. They are educators, healers, and advocates—often working without fanfare, always working with heart.

This post is for them. For the carers who sit up all night with a sick joey, who gently guide a bird through recovery, and who make the hardest calls when suffering cannot be eased. For those who teach others how to check a pouch, how to rescue safely, and how to care with compassion. For those who build sanctuaries not just with fences and feed, but with love, courage, and community.

You are the heartbeat behind the healing. And today, we celebrate you.

Let’s Hear It for the Poo Warriors!

Today is Thank a Cleaner Day, and while some folks are tipping their hats to office janitors and school custodians (and rightly so!), we’re here to celebrate a very special breed of cleaner: the wildlife carer.

You know who you are. The ones who start the day with a scoop, a scrub, and a suspicious stain. The ones who’ve cleaned more pouches than they’ve had hot meals, and who can identify a joey’s digestive health by the texture of a splatter. You don’t just clean—you combat chaos with a mop and a mission.

So before you grab the hose and chase down a roo who’s just redecorated the pen, take a moment to feel seen. You are the sparkle behind the sanctuary, the unsung hero of hygiene, and today—we thank you.

At Amaris, every tiny life we welcome carries a story of loss—and a hope for healing. We become their sanctuary, knowing that one day, we’ll have to let them go.

This week, we said goodbye to Katie, Kalina, and Khloe. It wasn’t just a farewell—it was a reflection on how the world around us is changing, and how we must keep adapting to give our wildlife the freedom and safety they deserve.

Here’s why we had to say goodbye.

At Amaris, we know every possum by name. We’ve held them in our arms—injured, orphaned, soot-stained. We’ve watched them curl into sleep, their tails wrapped like question marks around fragile bodies. And we’ve asked ourselves, again and again: How did it come to this?

The Song Returns: Noisy Scrub-Birds at West Cape Howe

This spring, a rare melody is rising from the undergrowth—the call of the noisy scrub-bird. Once nearly silent across the south coast, this elusive songbird is making a comeback thanks to DBCA’s translocation efforts at West Cape Howe National Park.

For Amaris, it’s a moment of joy and hope. The scrub-bird’s return reminds us that restoration is possible when care and science walk together. Their song is a promise kept—and a call to protect what remains wild.

Let’s celebrate. Let’s stay vigilant. Because every voice matters—even the ones we rarely hear.

Celebrating Australian Wildlife Week This week, we honour the incredible animals who share our land—and the carers, rescuers, and supporters who help them thrive. At Amaris Wildlife Sanctuary, every day is a wildlife day, filled with love, healing, and hope. Join us in celebrating the joy of caring for our wild kin, and discover simple ways you can make a difference too.

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” — Anatole France

Today, on World Animal Day, we celebrate the joy, love, and deep connection we share with animals. At Amaris Wildlife Sanctuary, we see this bond every day—and we invite you to rediscover it. Whether it’s a curious joey, a sleepy possum, or a bird greeting the morning sun, wildlife has a way of awakening something tender and true within us. Let’s honour that today—and every day.

A Legacy of Listening

As the world mourns the passing of Dr. Jane Goodall, we at Amaris Wildlife Sanctuary pause to honour a woman whose life changed the way many of us see animals—not as specimens, but as sentient beings with stories, emotions, and rights. Her work didn’t just shape science; it shaped hearts. And today, we reflect on how her legacy calls us to care more deeply, speak more boldly, and protect more fiercely.

Who Stands Up for the Wild?

On this International Day of Non-Violence, we honour peace and compassion—but too often forget the silent victims of violence: our wildlife. From emu chicks run down on dirt roads to possums shot and left to die, cruelty is happening in our own backyards. Just yesterday, a rabbit lay bleeding in mine—shot in the thigh, alone, suffering.

This blog is a call to extend non-violence to all living beings. Because if we don’t speak for them, who will?

Ashes of Home: Why We Must Speak for the Silent

There’s a stretch of bushland in Lange, Albany—between Bandicoot Road and Mercer Road—that holds more than trees. It holds memory. It holds life. It holds the last whispers of species clinging to survival in a world that’s burning faster than we can protect it.

I’ve walked those trails. Counted possums in the canopy. Listened to the rustle of echidnas and the wingbeats of black cockatoos. I’ve seen joeys peek from pouches and felt the pulse of a living ecosystem. Now, that sanctuary is marked for fire.

This blog is not just a protest. It’s a plea. A reckoning. A call to look beyond policy and permits and see the faces—furred, feathered, and human—who will bear the cost. Because when we burn what’s critically endangered, we don’t just lose habitat. We lose integrity. We lose hope.

This blog was sparked by Spring Fire, a searing poem (author unknown) The words speak to the brutal beauty of our landscapes and the uneasy truth that spring can bring both renewal and ruin. As prescribed burns sweep through places like Walpole Wilderness and Gull Rock, we reflect on what’s lost—not just trees and habitat, but the biodiversity and wild lives we fight to protect.

Today, on World Heart Day, we honour the hearts that beat not just within us—but for others. At Amaris Wildlife Sanctuary, it’s the compassionate hearts that carry our mission forward: the carers who love through exhaustion, the rescuers who act with courage and tenderness, and the generous souls who support us through donations, fundraising, and outreach. This is a day to celebrate love in action—the kind of heart that heals, protects, and never gives up on wildlife.

At Amaris Wildlife Sanctuary, every life tells a story—but some stories feel like poetry in motion. This season, one of our most tender chapters belongs to Mumm’s Mia, a hand-raised joey who has grown into a devoted mother herself. Watching Mia care for her little boy Monty is more than heartwarming—it’s a living testament to resilience, instinct, and the sanctuary of safety.

For those of us who’ve known Mia since she was small enough to fit in a pouch made of fleece, seeing her now—lazing in the backyard, grooming her boy, clicking him into safety when danger stirs—is nothing short of magical. Her journey hasn’t been easy. Last year, both Mia and her first joey Mardie lost their babies during the chaos of the mating chase. But this year, Mia has held on. Monty is thriving. And every day, she reminds us what it means to love without fear.

Nigel’s story has touched many hearts in our community. What began as a moment of distress captured on video grew into a journey of fear, resilience, hope, and, sadly, loss. This is more than the story of one kangaroo — it is a reminder of the challenges our wildlife face every day, and of the compassion and responsibility we owe them. Today, we share Nigel’s full story in memoriam, honouring his life and the lessons he leaves behind.

Today the world pauses to honour the International Day of Peace — a reminder that peace is not only something we seek between nations and people, but also something we can nurture with the natural world around us. At Amaris Wildlife Sanctuary, we see every day how our rescued animals live quietly alongside one another, teaching us that harmony is possible when we respect, protect, and treasure life. This day invites us to reflect on how we, too, can learn to live in peace with wildlife — not exploiting, but loving them, and finding our own peace in their presence.

Every year, well‑meaning members of the public rescue joeys from the pouches of kangaroos killed on our roads. Their hearts are in the right place — but without the right knowledge, equipment, and experience, love alone can’t keep a joey alive. In this blog, we share why “love is not enough” when it comes to raising orphaned wildlife, and why the most loving thing you can do is place them in the hands of a registered, experienced carer.

When Krysti Severi stood before Parliament, she didn’t just speak—she bared the soul of every wildlife rescuer in Australia. Her words were raw, heartbreaking, and necessary. They echoed the pain we carry, the injustice we witness, and the relentless fight to protect the animals this country claims to love. This blog is inspired by her testimony, and by the kangaroos like the one who died on the roadside in Donnybrook—alone, broken, and unseen.