Episode 2: The Great Emu War of Australia

Lily

We’ve got a fascinating episode ahead for you today, but before we dive into the bizarre case of an actual war—against birds, of all things—we need to take a moment to thank our sponsor.

Buster

Oh ho, here we go. Is it finally a birdseed company?

Lily

Not quite, but you’re close in spirit. This week, we’re excited to be sponsored by the AI Salon, a community of AI optimists and creators.

Buster

AI optimists? Wait—are we talking people who believe robots are gonna write love letters now?

Lily

No, no, it’s more about bringing together people who are excited about using AI tools to, you know, spark creativity. It’s a space to collaborate, explore—and, yes, Buster, probably write some very heartfelt love letters too.

Buster

Well, that explains why they aren’t sponsoring a bird war, but hey, if it gets people talking to machines instead of emus, I’m all for it.

Lily

Exactly. So if you’re curious about how AI can inspire your next big idea, head over to theSalon.ai and sign up today.

Buster

It’s like a salon, but for robots. No scissors—just algorithms.

Lily

Alright, Buster, let’s set the stage. It’s the early 1930s, Australia’s going through the Great Depression, and things are rough—like, really rough. In Western Australia, it's even bleaker than you might imagine. And to top it all off, enter one of the strangest problems you could think of...

Buster

Extra bleak? That’s a cheerful start, Lil. I mean, great job pulling us in, though. Depression and despair—stick around, folks!

Lily

Bear with me, it gets even more unbelievable. Here’s the backdrop: after World War I, a lot of returning soldiers were given plots of land by the government as part of a program to settle them down as farmers. It was supposed to be a win-win—help the veterans rebuild their lives and boost agriculture in remote areas.

Buster

Sounds like a sweet deal, except for the part where the land is in, what, the middle of nowhere?

Lily

Exactly. Much of the land was marginal at best, and when wheat prices started plummeting during the Depression, many of these farmers were barely hanging on. Promised subsidies? Also didn’t show up.

Buster

Of course not. So, just to recap—bad land, no money, and no help. But hey, at least things couldn’t get worse—

Lily

Spoiler alert—they did. Because enter the emus.

Buster

The birds?

Lily

Yes, the birds. Giant, flightless, very determined birds. After their breeding season ended, around 20,000 emus migrated inland and descended on the wheat farms of Western Australia.

Buster

Wait, 20,000? Why does that sound like a bird apocalypse?

Lily

Because it kind of was. Emus are opportunistic creatures, and these farms, with their cleared land and extra water sources, were basically paradise for them. They ate crops, trampled over everything, and left huge gaps in fences that let in rabbits, which caused even more destruction.

Buster

So the Great Depression wasn’t enough—they also had to battle feathered tanks on two legs?

Lily

Essentially! The farmers were at their wits’ end. They petitioned the government for help, and oh boy, did the government respond. But that’s where we’re going next.

Lily

Faced with desperate pleas from farmers drowning in emu-induced chaos, the government stepped in—or rather, Military Minister Sir George Pearce did. His proposed solution? Machine guns. Two full-on, military-grade Lewis guns, to be exact.

Buster

Wait, machine guns? For birds? Please tell me they misunderstood the request.

Lily

Nope, you heard that right. The guns were under the command of Major Meredith, and this wasn’t just a casual operation. They even deployed over 10,000 rounds of ammunition.

Buster

And, uh, how many emus actually got... you know, “birdified” by this massive display of firepower?

Lily

Brace yourself—just 986 emus were confirmed killed. That’s less than 10 percent of the estimated population. And that’s with thousands of bullets flying around.

Buster

You’re telling me they practically threw a bullet party, and most of the guests didn’t even RSVP?

Lily

It gets better. The first attempt was such a comedy of errors. The guns jammed, the emus scattered out of range, and on one particularly infamous day, they tried mounting a gun onto a truck.

Buster

Let me guess—it didn’t go well.

Lily

Oh, not at all. The truck couldn’t keep up with the birds, the terrain was way too rough, and the poor gunner probably felt like he was riding a bounce house. Needless to say, no shots landed.

Buster

So basically, they were outmaneuvered by what... giant chickens?

Lily

Essentially. And the emus only got more organized. Reports say some flocks had leaders—big black-plumed birds—that actually stood watch and warned the rest of incoming danger. It was like nature’s guerrilla warfare.

Buster

Oh, c’mon, guerilla warfare? Against humans with machine guns? I I think we might be the problem here.

Lily

By the time the first campaign wrapped up six days later, they’d fired 2,500 rounds, and according to Major Meredith’s own words, their only casualty was, quote, their dignity.

Buster

Well, I mean, if you’re counting wounded egos, that number’s off the charts.

Lily

So they tried again. A second campaign in late November saw more success—about a hundred emus were being killed per week, but even then, they barely made a dent. The emus just kept coming back and wreaking havoc.

Buster

Honestly, it kind of sounds like the emus won this thing hands down.

Lily

Oh, absolutely. The media started mocking the entire ordeal, and by December, the military pulled out. It was as clear as day that this wasn’t working.

Buster

Well, at least now we know. Never start a land war in Asia—or, apparently, in the Australian outback... against birds.

Lily

Alright, so what did we learn from this feathered fiasco? You’d think the obvious lesson would be: don’t send machine guns to deal with birds. But on a broader scale, the Emu War actually did lead to some shifts in how Australia approached managing its wildlife dramas.

Buster

Let me guess—they didn’t bring the army back, right?

Lily

Correct. After this very public debacle, the government shifted away from military solutions and leaned into things like exclusion fences and bounty systems. They eventually found more efficient—and less... embarrassing—ways to manage agricultural pests.

Buster

Yeah, because nothing screams “we’ve really thought this through” like putting emus on the same level as an invading army. I mean, fences? That’s what they should’ve started with!

Lily

And it worked. Turns out, you don’t need bullets to stop emus—you just need to keep them out in the first place. Exclusion fences became a staple in Australia’s pest control after this, not to mention a national joke.

Buster

Which brings us to my favorite part—the cultural footprint. I mean, the Emu War has practically become a legend now. We’re talking documentaries, novels, and more recently... comedy action films. Did you hear about the one they released in 2023?

Lily

Oh, absolutely. It framed the whole disaster as this action-packed satire, complete with emus outsmarting bumbling soldiers left and right. Honestly, it felt appropriate—because if history gives you absurdity, you might as well lean into it.

Buster

Right? It's like Australia gave the rest of the world a gift. “Here, laugh at this—our government tried to outwit birds and lost.” You can't make this stuff up!

Lily

But beyond the comedy, the Emu War is kind of a fascinating case study. It shows how desperation can lead us down some, well, over-the-top paths. I mean, this situation escalated because people were struggling and didn’t have the resources they needed to survive.

Buster

Yeah, it’s like, the birds weren’t the real problem—it was what people were willing to do to fight them. A hundred years from now, folks might look at this and think, “What other bizarre wars on nature didn’t make it into the history books?”

Lily

Exactly. I think that’s what makes the Emu War so oddly symbolic. It’s a reminder that, maybe, humans aren’t completely in control of the natural world. Sometimes, nature pushes back.

Buster

And sometimes, it’s with a flock of six-foot-tall birds that can outrun trucks. Honestly, I don’t know whether to laugh or give emus a standing ovation.

Lily

Maybe both. I think we’ve covered all the angles we can, but I have to say—it’s been quite the journey. From desperate farmers to military campaigns and guerrilla birds... only in Australia, right?

Buster

Oh, for sure. And on that note, folks, thanks for sticking with us. We hope you’ve enjoyed this trip into one of the weirdest chapters of history.

Lily

And remember, the next time you think your job is tough... just spare a thought for Major Meredith riding that gun-mounted truck.

Buster

That’s the spirit! Until next time, everyone—stay curious and maybe, just maybe, stay away from emus.

Lily

Bye for now!