Life for Rivers

Rivers for Life is a very insightful book covering the need for global care of water and river systems for both people and nature. Written by Sandra Postel and Brian Richter (2003) from the Global Water Policy Project, Rivers of Life's first chapter is titled: Where Have All the Rivers Gone? It documents the impact wrought by human development through changing infrastructure (such as dams, hydro-projects, dredging etc.) on rivers, wetlands and other freshwater ecosystems, so much so that the health of the river and the plant and animal species that dwell in and along the river are threatened. The authors estimate that worldwide that 'a significant proportion of fresh water species ...including 20 percent of freshwater fish species ... are at risk of extinction or are already extinct.' (2003:3)

Healthy river systems are fast disappearing. But at the same time there is a host of activists, river and wetlands restorers who are working to re-create river health and wellbeing. Postel and Richter advise rivers should be valued for their own sake not only for the services they provide the human community. They comment: 'Rivers are more than conduits for water. They are complex systems that do complicated work.' (4)

What's needed for the restoration of river systems is all the scientific research that's being done as well as great encouragement for people to care for local waterways. One suggestion is to tell river stories from the present and the past, e.g. stories from indigenous communities and from the early days of white settlement when cotton growing, sugar cane farms and cattle stations spread out along the river. People may become more aware, more engaged and perhaps more motivated to take action to protect the river environs.

Talking to people I meet on the trail teaches me so much about the river and its history. We discuss the birds we've seen, the experiences of flood times, how tough it was for the early settlers in clearing the luscious rainforest for farmland and more generally, about the threat of encroaching development. And we work together to care for the precious bushland. Each day I pull up a number of noxious weeds but with the recent fantastic rain, the weeds are growing faster and taller than my ability to rip them up them; it seems impossible to combat their spread.

Postel and Richter are optimistic that people will learn to appreciate the natural environment including rivers and so might replicate the 'complicated work' that rivers do by lobbying for river education and river health. To this end the authors make a serious plea:

'Unless human communities begin to adapt to natural cycles and coexist with aquatic communities, those natural communities will disappear and the ecological work they perform will be lost.' (202).

They call for an ethic of stewardship which respects 'the beauty and mystery' of the natural world while at the same time demanding from governments a more aware, community-embedded active rivercare program.

One of the case sudies from Rivers of Life is the Brisbane River and its deteriorating health. Postel and Richter point to the extent of land clearing where now only 14 percent of the whole river catchment area where most people live 'remains uncleared' (133). They document a litany of river impacts that have severely affected the river flow, from construction of dams to changes in waterway vegetation which interferes with 'shading and temperature controls' raising the likelihood of 'algal blooms and lowering dissolved oxygen levels.' (135, citing Arthington et al, 2000).

The list of concerns continues with the loss of biodiversity and subsequent loss of habitat for bird, animal and fish species, including the platypus.

To combat these problems (or are they horrors?), a number of counter strategies are suggested. It requires concerted and combined action among all stakeholders and residents but of course, such suggestions to restore healthy river systems may (or invariably do) bring conflict, as ecological demands can disturb policy and development desires and outcomes. Postel and Richter (2003:137) write:

'This conflict between managing the Brisbane River for human purposes versus meeting the river's own needs for water is one that arises on virtually every river. ... Complete restoration of the Brisbane's natural flow regime would likely cause too much disruption to landowners and water users to be publicly acceptable.'

In the end such conflict is played out between humans and nature where nature's voice is rarely heard. At the moment the Butcher Bird is sitting on the verandah singing the most glorious chorus and sounding, on occasion, like the Magpie, the Kookaburra and of course, itself. I love that. The very melodic refrain of the Butcher Bird reminds me how important it is to value local river systems and trees and get involved in that complicated work of the ecosystem of which, we humans too, are part.

References
Arthington AH et al, 2000, Environmental Flow Requirements of the Brisbane River Downstream from Wivenhoe Dam, Brisbane, Queensland: South East Queensland Water Corporation, and Centre for Catchment and In-Stream Research of Griffith University.
Postel S and B Richter, 2003, Rivers For Life: Managing Water for People and Nature, Washington, DC: Island Press.

From Drought to Flooding Rain

Just a couple of weeks ago the whole area was in the midst of a long-term drought. Now there is severe flooding throughout SE Queensland and northern NSW. Today the rain pelted down in thick sheets; visibility was almost non-existent, and although the river level here is slightly higher that it has been recently, the Brisbane River has not experienced the widespread damage and disruption felt in other regions. Fierce storms, wild winds, massive rainfall and chaotic seas have created havoc. Rivers have become lakes, hectares of farmland and scrubland have been inundated, and beaches have been washed away.

In contrast all is quiet along the river. As I walked among the chittering of cicadas and other insects, the splendour of bird call and the sound of Brush Turkey chicks scurrying through the undergrowth, it was hard to imagine that not so far away the SES Emergency Services are hard at work rescuing people and animals caught by the unexpected floods.

While all was calm along the Brisbane River today, it has not always been the case. Early explorers reported heavy rains and flooding of the river on numerous occasions throughout the 1800s. For instance, in 1857 a report in the local Brisbane newspaper reported:

'The flood ... was the result of eight weeks' continuous, but not heavy, rain. There had been a strong fresh in the river for several weeks, and ... all vehicular traffic between North and South Brisbane was suspended as the horse-punt at Russell-street was unable to cross on account of the strong current ... Rowing boats were plying in Margaret, Mary, and Charlotte streets ... and the whole of the low-lying ground from Elizabeth-street to the river was a muddy lake. At South Brisbane one could stand on a hill ... and see an unbroken sheet of water...'

1867: 'The rain continued to fall incessantly until daylight. In consequence of this heavy rain the river rose, and never within the last twenty years have the indications of a flood shown themselves within so short a period ...A strong current was running down the river all Sunday, carrying with it large quantities of drift timber in single logs and rafts as well as other debris ... The temporary bridge linking north and south Brisbane acted as a dam and collapsed ... as a result of the debris piling up against it.'

1893: 'Disastrous floods in the Brisbane River ... Numbers of houses ... washed down the rivers. Seven men drowned...' 'Crowds lined the high grounds near the river bank or wherever a good view was obtainable; and the roar of the water as it rushed along at a speed of from 8 to 10 miles an hour, carrying with it scores of houses, furniture and household articles in endless variety...'

Floods continued to be reported over the next 100 years. January 26, 1974 was recorded as the wettest day since 1887:

'The Brisbane River ... reached the highest level this century ... 14 lives were lost, some 8,000 householders were affected, many totally destroyed, others damaged to the tune of thousands of dollars as a result of inundation and battering from both strong currents and water borne debris.'

The Brisbane River is described as 'flood-prone', with 11 major floods recorded since the 1840s. But since those early days of white settlement, the way that media reports have covered the floods has shifted from evocative and scenic descriptions of the devastation to the human toll, the impact on buisiness, and especially, the estimated costs of the inundation. That's why reading a personal account of the 1996 floods on the river makes for fascinating reading. Local resident Scott Balson reported the river's rise over a number of days as he watched he water creep up the garden towards the house.

Friday, May 3, 1996: 'As I write this the rain pours incessently and hard outside. We had 2" of rain in the last 12 hours and it pours harder now. And all this before the great Wivenhoe dam lets forth a path of destruction which must follow later tonight. Now the dam was built to stop the devastation that the 100 year flood of 1974 caused. Could it cause more damage than if natural flow had been allowed...?'

Saturday May 4: 'I walked down to the rivers edge - now working its way up the garden stairs that used to look down on the river several metres below. The water inched its way higher and higher, noticeably now moving up the slope. The massive gum tree, once high above the water, had now surrendered its base to the rising water which now stood just a few feet under the grassy platform just 12 metres below our home.'

Sunday May 5: 'The water continues its climb up the slope, it has now started to cover our deck 15 metres above the normal level of the river... We have just heard that the Brisbane River is expected to rise at least 8 (YES EIGHT) more metres in the next few days based on current rainfall ... We can now hear the quiet roar of the river at its centre - the noise is indescribable, almost peaceful but obviously powerful and restrained. As the level rises the full fury of the water becomes more apparent. I no longer have to look down from where I sit in the global office, I look across and see the water flooding the bank on the other side of the river.'

Tuesday May 7: 'The sun has once again come out and the skies are now blue, blue as they have ever been.'

A couple of months later Balson reflects on his special relationship with the Brisbane River. It is dawn as he watches the mist spread across the river at the bottom of the garden.

'The mist swirled around my feet as the low tide revealed the protruding rocky ridges of the river floor along which I walked. Nearby, the still waters flowed deep and little eddies drew all that floated above into their grasp. Otherwise all was still. Not even the birds stirred. This was a special time. I squatted transfixed by the beauty of the evolving day as the sun's rays broke the hold of the mists and revealed the true nature of the water's emotions below. Emotions that held the soul of the valley together. ... my river fantasy land was now revealing her life and living as the birds woke and shared in an experience lost to man in the walls that we call home and civilisation.'

Blue Faced and Pugnacious

The bird book says the Blue-faced Honeyeater is pugnacious, especially when it is caught stealing twigs from other birds' nests (Frith, 1976:468).

It was raining lightly as I walked towards the river. It has been raining on and off for a few days now which has brought life-giving moisture to this very dry region in SE Queensland. Out of the corner of my eye I felt a presence in the bush beside me and turned to see a splendid bird, wearing an eye patch of irridescent cobalt blue and a golden-olive feathered cloak. Yet as I read the description of this bird I discovered that not everyone has that opinion. Blue-faced Honeyeaters are also known as the 'Banana Bird' because of their predilection for fruit and as a consequence can damage crops and are regarded as pests. But in the riverine undergrowth this bird looked magnificient.

Sometimes drizzle, sometimes downpour, the rain is delicious. The damp dull atmosphere has pervaded the river valley where the sound of bird song is intense as it pierces the grey morning. Sharper somehow. The very melodic Butcher Bird, the dramatic chatter of Wille Wagtail, the delicious carolling of Magpies, the haunting calls of Currawong and Raven, the river is a sound feast.

Ecophilosopher and eco-musician David Rothenberg has explored the history and practice of birdsong in his book 'Why Birds Sing: A Journey into the Mystery of Bird Song' (2005) and says they sing: 'Because they can and because they must.... Songs are used to attract mates and defend territories, but the form is much more than function. Nature is full of beauty, and of music.' Listen to his delighful musical partnership with these beautiful sounds especially the beautifully lyrical Lyre Bird Suite, where the Lyre Bird's display of myriad forest sounds is spectacular and blends charismatically with the human musicianship.

Rothenberg's musical relationship with birds is described as 'interspecies' but could there also be a 'sonorific' relationship of the interspecies kind between river and bird, rain and river, as well as human and nature? In an essay entitled 'Interspecies Music', Rothenberg reflecting on the process of partnering with nature quotes the long-time animal communications and whale song researcher Jim Nollman:

'Treat the music as an invitation. Visualize the bond of time and place as a sanctuary filled with music. Feel what it means to get on whale time. Don't try to communicate; remain humble to the fact that music — especially "beautiful music" — is a judgment call. That rare bird known as the interspecies musician learns to meet the animal halfway, two species willing to play in the same band, if but for a moment. It frolics with our basic conception of what it means to be both human and animal.'

The interconnection between human and nature is fluid, boundaryless, an intermerging of one in the other and the other in one resplendent in the magical symphony between Lyre Bird and David Rothenberg. Have a listen.

References
Frith HJ, 1976, Reader's Digest Complete Book of Australian Birds, Surry Hills, NSW, Reader's Digest Services Pty Ltd.
Rothenberg D, 2005, Why Birds Sing: A Journey into the Mystery of Bird Song, New York, Basic Books.

Spiders Catch the Sun

The river valley is filled with sparkling jewels and precious metals. The trail is awash with emerald, peridot and jade scattered above the the thick brown mud along the mangrove-hugging creek and interwoven within the steep and rocky embankment.

Over the past few weeks the tall Eucalypts have been shedding their bark. It falls to the ground in thin strands, sometimes hanging down in long strips as if the old bark is flowing from the tree right into the earth. Beneath the old skin is revealed a brand new trunk of lustrous bronze glistening in the sunlight. Also shining are the new leaves sprouting from the gum and wattle saplings and other bushes - sometimes glowing a bright copper, sometimes a luscious deep ruby, sometimes a blue-tinged silver and sometimes a brilliant lime-gold.

Walking along the pathway I duck to avoid the precious gold and silver threads of intricate spider webs woven between the branchlets. Within the web dead insects are wrapped as treasures; they hang from the web's centre as the spider sits and waits ... for more prey perhaps? As the sunlight catches its golden cord I'm reminded of a comment from the biomimicry biologist Janine Benyus (2005) who suggests that spiders have valuable lessons to impart. She points out that:

'A spider makes silk ... that is five times stronger, ounce for ounce, than steel. It's resilient and tough - a true miracle fibre. Even more incredible, a spider uses flies and crickets as raw material and creates the fibre at body temperature (a life-friendly temperature), because the manufacturing plant is the spider's body. Furthermore, the fibre is biodegradable, so the spider can eat the web to make more web.'

The clever spinning spider inspires people like Benyus to create biodegradable, sustainable and useful products. This is done, she says, by entering 'into deep conversation with organisms' which 'absolutely fills you with awe'. The first step for scientists is not to rush into research but first to reflect on the evocative questions she poses: 'How does nature teach? How does nature learn? How does nature heal? How does nature communicate?' In the process of contemplation, Benyus advises a respectful listening to the natural world and an acknowledgement of thanks for the inspiration it offers. This engenders an ethic of care. She says:

'Seeing nature as model, measure, and mentor changes the very way you view and value the natural world. Instead of seeing nature as warehouse, you begin to see her as teacher. Instead of valuing what you can extract from her, you value what you can learn from her. And this changes everything. ... When what we learn improves how we live, we grow grateful, and that leads to the last step in the path: stewardship and caretaking, a practical thanksgiving for what we've learned.'

This practical awareness of the spiders' gifts has been implemented by tribal cultures in the Asia-Pacific region who gather spider fibre to make fish nets and traps and capture small birds with the sticky web fibres. And I was always told that spider webs can be used to stem the flow of blood on wounds.

More recently the strength and elasticity of the Golden Orb Spiders' silky web have led scientists to research the properties of spider silk and ask how spiders actually create their silky home. They are looking to transform the spiders' clever spinning into military use as armour (e.g. bullet proof material) as well as creating their own forms of synthetic biosilk for use in textiles and other products like fishing line through the use of genetic modification (see: Borchardt, Christian Science Monitor, 2004).

For instance, Japanese scientists, reports the Times of India (2007), have genetically modified silkworms to produce soft silky socks with which they 'aim to revitalize both the wearers' feet with possible anti-ageing effects and Japan's waning silk and socks industry'. While in 2002, the New York Times (2002) reported that goats had been genetically adapted with a gene from the Golden Orb Weaver to produce milk laced with spider silk (See Osborne, 2002, an article well worth a read).

Reading about the scientific and military uses of spider thread I think again about the biomimicry perspective of Janine Benyus who advises on the need for gratitude towards nature for its teaching and guidance and wonder if her perspective incorporates the questionable ethics and morality of the spiders' genetically modified science and military journey.

References
Benyus J, 2005, 'Genius of Nature,' Resurgence, 230.
Borchardt JK, 2004, 'Soon, Spider-silk Togs and Mussel Glue?' Christian Science Monitor, Aug 26, 2004.
Osborne L, 2002, 'Got Silk,' New York Times, June 16, 2002

Promoting Change

The Bioneers radio program on the ABC this week broadcast a series of thought-provoking talks from a host of social and environmental change activists. Some use poetry to promote change, others run salons in cafes across the globe, others practise deep listening. Drew Dillinger is the founder of Poets for Global Justice and his poem 'hieroglyphic stairway' is a masterful and moving display of issues confronting the earth globally and the river valley locally.

hieroglyphic stairway

it's 3:23 in the morning
and I'm awake
because my great great grandchildren
won't let me sleep
my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the planet was plundered?
what did you do when the earth was unraveling?

surely you did something
when the seasons started failing?

as the mammals, reptiles, birds were all dying?

did you fill the streets with protest
when democracy was stolen?

what did you do
once
you
knew?

I'm riding home on the Colma train
I've got the voice of the milky way in my dreams

I have teams of scientists
feeding me data daily
and pleading I immediately
turn it into poetry

I want just this consciousness reached
by people in range of secret frequencies
contained in my speech

I am the desirous earth
equidistant to the underworld
and the flesh of the stars

I am everything already lost

the moment the universe turns transparent
and all the light shoots through the cosmos

I use words to instigate silence

I'm a hieroglyphic stairway
in a buried Mayan city
suddenly exposed by a hurricane

a satellite circling earth
finding dinosaur bones
in the Gobi desert
I am telescopes that see back in time

I am the precession of the equinoxes,
the magnetism of the spiraling sea

I'm riding home on the Colma train
with the voice of the milky way in my dreams

I am myths where violets blossom from blood
like dying and rising gods

I'm the boundary of time
soul encountering soul
and tongues of fire

it's 3:23 in the morning
and I can't sleep
because my great great grandchildren
ask me in dreams
what did you do while the earth was unraveling?

I want just this consciousness reached
by people in range of secret frequencies
contained in my speech

drew dellinger

The poem reminds me of the profound work done by environmental practitioner and Buddhist scholar Joanna Macy. Her deep ecological workshops ask similar questions to Dellinger's. Towards the end of the workshop, participants sit in two circles facing each other and are asked to be in the future. The outside circle plays the role of the Future Elders; in the inner circle, the young people of the future ask the Elders - What did you do when you knew the earth was unravelling, when the planet was threatened, when the oceans lost species, when the forests were felled, when the rivers ran dry - what did you do?

Sylvan Riverscapes

The Brisbane River is home to the Turrbal and Yugarbul-Jagarra peoples who created pathways along the river valley linking ceremonial sites known as 'bora'. According to Kerkhove (1985:4) these pathways ran the length of the river and 'early settlers remembered seeing Brisbane Aboriginals marching in hundreds along these, or saw them tracking along them in South Brisbane at night with a blazing torch in one hand.' (cited in To Travel is to Learn, 2004).

In a paper on Aboriginal history along the river valley, local historian Ros Kidd (2000) writes that the river and surrounding waters 'provided bountiful and beautiful environment', a 'sylvan' somewhat 'idyllic' existence prior to European settlement. Aboriginal people were depicted as:

'fishing from bark canoes made from broad sheets of stringy bark or casting their heart-shaped towrow nets to encircle shoals of mullet. Others used vines to climb the trees for possum and koala which were despatched with stone tomahawks. Women and children dived in lagoons for lily roots, dug yams and collected the edible fern roots. Some sat on the banks weaving their baskets and bags from the pink and green swamp grasses while youngsters frolicked in the shallows.'

Then the river terrain was thickly wooded, swampy in places with many creeks flowing into the river. Wild fowl, fish and eel were plentiful, Bush Turkeys patrolled the undergrowth, Parrots flocked overhead, Pelicans fished the shallows while 'Ducks and [S]wans in their hundreds trawled the waterways' (Meston, 1923 cited in Kidd, 2000).

This wondrous sight is a stark reminder of what has been lost. Kidd reports Aborigines in the mid-19th century being able to pull up fishing nets filled with fish in just 'a few minutes' (Bartley, 1896:247). This was the time when the river was clear, and even right up to the 1930s, there were accounts of being able to see the riverbed 5 to 6 metres below (Young 1990, in Gutteridge, Haskins & Davey, 1996).

The abundance and natural beauty of the river has been irrevocably changed although swathes of its beauty remains, even in the heart of the city such as along the Mangrove Walk. But similar riverbank green spaces have been and are being burried under roadways, high rise development and economic progress. The spirit of this flowing place has been paved over but its spirit still thrives - in the memories, stories and rituals of the original custodians of this riverland and in the beauty of the river itself that flourishes despite an pro-development attitude that longs to smother its natural beauty.

An example of the kind of thing that is happening along the river comes from a recent ABC Radio Eye program, 'Tree poisoning, weeds and Australian native plants: Watching the Trees'. The program explored the trend in some Sydney harbour-view suburbs of people poisoning trees that hinder residents' views of the water. As a result, local authorities have installed CCTV cameras to try to catch the tree vandals and erected signs warning of heavy financial penalties incurred for destroying local trees.

Compare this action of seeing tree poisoners as vandals to the action of the local councils along the Brisbane River valley which allow unfettered tree felling in the name of development. Shade, amenity and beauty are sadly not often incorporated into urban planning decisions that affect both natural and community capital. Notions of beauty are all to frequently left out of discussions on resource management and sustainability. So a development or environmental change might be deemed sustainable even if the natural beauty of a place is destroyed.

The sylvan riverscape continues to be threatened to some extent, perhaps, because non-Aboriginal resource users and managers may not take heed of river stories told by Aboriginal people and by the river itself. This frame of reverence is sadly outside the domain of non-indigenous concepts of sustainability and environmental and social impact assessment.

Reverence, honour, respect, beauty - the incorporation of these values would shift resource management practices on land and sea to a different kind of awareness and action.

A few years ago I did some research on what was happening in Cape York and realised that my lack of awareness of indigenous issues led me to search for a description of Queensland's north as beautiful in the belief that if it is so beautiful then it must be worth saving. But there was only one occasion (that I found) where Noel Pearson (1995), now Director of the Cape York Institute, actually described the landscape of Cape York in physical, western terms. He depicted it as 'teeming with mangrove swamps, towering dunes, long stands of whispering casuarinas and groves of rustling pandanus, the buttressed, fragrant rainforests, the jewel islands and shimmering beaches'. It sounds so beautiful but I realised that my desire to reveal how the landscape looks is culturally-determined. For Pearson the land holds a far deeper significance:

'There are incredibly detailed and subtle laws governing how people should behave in particular places: in what direction should one expectorate; in whose company can one talk; which dialect or synonyms to employ in the presence of certain people; which foods are forbidden in certain places at certain times of the year to certain people; how one should sit in specific places; ... one’s personal relationship with particular animals and land forms.'

These are essential truths. Sacred values are rooted in the land and in relationship with kin and country. These sacred values are embedded in the tidal exchange of fresh and salt waters in the flowing beauty that is the Brisbane River.

References
Bartley N, 1896, Australian Pioneers and Reminiscences together with portraits of some of the founders of Australia, Gordon and Gotch.
Gutteridge, Haskins & Davey Pty Ltd, 1996, Task M2 State of the Brisbane River and Moreton Bay and Waterways Brisbane River Management Group, Brisbane River and Moreton Bay Wastewater Management Study, Working Draft Version 1.4.
Kerkhove R, 1985, West End to Woollangabba: The Early Aboriginal History of the District, Brisbane, Foundation of Aboriginal and Island Research and Action.
Kidd R, 2000, Aboriginal History of the Princess Alexandra Hospital Site, Diamantina Health Care Museum Association.
Meston A, 1923, ‘100 Years - Black Man to White Settlement’, The Daily Mail, December 1, 1923.
Pearson N, 1995, 'Cape York Peninsula: the land needs its people,' Paper presented to the Wild Agendas Conference, Sydney University, July, 1995.

Valuing the Beauty of Nature

Aspects of nature are so beautiful they take your breath away. But what does beauty mean in a consumer-driven busily-growing city that spreads its development footprint across the city's natural beauty. Natural capital is defined as the resources humans need to live, the quality of the land, of the water, of the health-giving natural resources that are seen to support capital, or the economic viability of society.

More narrowly, according to Green Facts, natural capital refers to: 'An extension of the economic notion of capital (manufactured means of production) to environmental 'goods and services'. It refers to a stock (e.g., a forest) which produces a flow of goods (e.g., new trees) and services.'

So natural capital by this viewpoint has nothing to do with beauty, with honouring the beauty of the river valley, with sustaining the intimate relationship and delicate balance between human and nature. Natural capital assumes anthropocentrism rather than the exquisite and intricate subtleties of natural systems or an eco- or biocentric worldview. But a nature-centred viewpoint does not necessarily assume nature is beautiful although it enacts and promotes reciprocal relationship, mindfulness and care.

What makes something beautiful? Are aspects of nature beautiful in their own right or do they become beautiful when humans declare them so? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder - in the symbolic capital of a community where objects of beauty, art, sculpture, buildings are deemed valuable by that community or society. Symbolic capital is associated with notions of power, with what is deemed important in society, and as such, projects an ideological and hegemonic perspective which washes over the notion of 'beauty is as beauty does'.

In this phrase beauty is both object (it is beautiful) and process (it can affect us deeply by its beauty). I like to think that in the process of beauty making, we are affected so much that we desire to care for nature, for the river, for other than human, and work for their protection. Raising awareness, replanting the river bank, fighting against development, helps sustain community and relationship between peoples, and between people and beautiful places.

Imagine changing the notion of symbolic capital to reflect the natural beauty of the environment, the Brisbane River valley and the wealth (but dwindling numbers) of creatures who dwelll here. Imagine a symbolic capital that was not associated with consumption and human use but recognised the symbolic beauty of the river in its own right. Imagine the heart-lifting moments of relationship with the Brisbane River when the river is not regarded as something to be commodified for its view, transport or provision of water resources but as a place of wonder and intrinsic beauty.