As the native wildlife here contends with drought, high temperatures, and bushfires this summer, people across Canberra have united to help. In a community effort to provide water for thirsty wildlife, Water Our Wildlife Canberra has encouraged Canberrans to place and maintain tubs of water in nature reserves and neighborhoods. Started on December 22, 2019, the group now has nearly 6,000 members and more than 500 watering stations across the Australian Capital Territory.

I’ve put out three watering stations, cleaning and filling them every few days. There’s more to consider in maintaining water stations than you’d think.
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First, where to locate them? I chose locations with no natural sources of water or other water stations nearby. The locations had to be far enough out in the bush to do some good but close enough to the road to carry the water in. I had to find flat, level ground in shaded areas, away from busy walking trails. I also looked for places with lots of fresh scat to confirm animals were congregating there.

​What kind of container? I started out with larger plastic bins and soon realized it was unrealistic to carry in enough water to maintain them. 

​I replaced the bins with deep plastic bowls. I also added smaller shallow plates for insects, small reptiles, and animals that can’t access a deep bowl, such as echidnas. Branches and rocks are crucial to a successful water station. Branches around the containers allow smaller animals to climb to the water. Branches inside let bees and other insects drink without drowning.

I often find animals waiting for me.

​Adding a sprinkler hose or buckets outside in the yard helps too.

Water Our Wildlife has a public Facebook page, frequented by positive, dedicated people. I enjoy seeing the posted pictures and reading what’s happening with the wildlife in other neighborhoods. Maybe this effort has become so popular because it’s a small but tangible thing that ordinary people can do to help in the face of bushfires and drought.

Today ABC Canberra reported that all the fires in New South Wales and the Australian Capital Territory (where I live) are now contained, which is wonderful news. It spurred me to reflect on what I’ve learned during what Australians are calling the “horror fire season.”
 
I’ve learned to regard time differently. I used to think of natural disasters as finite events. I believed they had a definite beginning and end. Even the worst of them would come and then they would be over. Recovery and rebuilding could then begin. The bushfires in Australia have shaken that certainty.
 
In New South Wales, the bushfire season started early, way back in September, and people have been living under that threat ever since. Here in the ACT, fires to the east, south, and west have threatened us since the holidays. Smoke was the biggest problem at first, as Canberra experienced the worst air quality of any city in the world. Then the fires crept closer, and planning for evacuation became a reality for many families. The fires have been "out of control" or "being controlled" or "under control." Never are they entirely out. And they won’t be—unless an enormous amount of rain falls. Enough rain to counteract the effects of a five-plus-year drought here. Authorities predict that Australia will be fighting these fires through February, probably well into March. Seven months—from the start of the fires in September through March isn’t an event—it’s a lifestyle. It’s a new normal.
 
I’ve learned that I am nothing if not pragmatic. Formulating a bushfire survival plan forces you to be. Choosing the what to bring for a to-go bag or bin is like packing for the most bizarre camping trip you could imagine. What I’ve chosen to include has changed over time. Now the contents are down to the essentials—if I can replace it, it doesn’t come.
 
I’ve learned that I will stay a whole lot longer in the face of fires than I ever thought I would. Friends from outside Australia urged us to evacuate at the first sign of danger, and it was easy at first for me to say: well, if the fires come anywhere close, we’ll just leave. But go where? There were no truly safe places, only places where the fire wasn’t at that moment. And evacuate for how long? We still had work and school and other commitments. You can leave them behind for a while but not for weeks or months at a time. Life goes on. You become numb and so do the friends and neighbors around you. I’ve learned that in future fire seasons, I will likely stay until emergency services tells our neighborhood to leave.
 
Perhaps the most important thing I’ve learned is that Australians take care of each other, from organizing relief efforts to supporting the volunteer firefighters to rescuing the native wildlife. And I’ve learned that they never, ever give up. They keep going and look for signs of hope. If this is the new normal, these are the folks I want to face it with.