Transcription Audio

Hello and welcome. Today we’re talking about respectfully learning and sharing Indigenous Australian animal stories—and why your approach can make or break your project, your relationships, and your impact. Here’s the mindset shift: Indigenous animal stories are not content assets. They are law, lineage, and ecological knowledge. Start there, and everything changes—who you speak with, how you ask, what you record, and whether anything should be shared publicly at all. If you work in wildlife care, this isn’t just context—it’s essential practice. Story sits inside animal behaviour and Country. When you get that, care protocols get smarter and safer. There’s an explainer in the show notes on why understanding native animal behaviour is crucial for effective care. Let’s name the real problem. It’s usually not bad intentions. It’s poor governance. Teams go hunting for “a kangaroo story” or “a dingo Dreaming” and skip the relationships, the Country, and the custodians with authority to say what can be told, by whom, and how. That oversight causes cultural harm and sinks good work. Here’s what often gets missed: Indigenous animal stories are living legal systems governing relationships between people, animals, and Country. Treat them as tales and you’ll stumble. Treat them as law and you’ll find the right path. Three common blind spots: 1) Pan-Aboriginal shortcuts. One story does not fit all Countries. These are place-based and answer to local authority. Think Rainbow Serpent: in one place you’ll hear links to honey ant Dreaming in desert Country; in another, saltwater crocodile forms in the Top End—each with distinct protocols, seasonal markers, and behavioural observations tuned to that ecosystem. Place matters. 2) Publication is not permission. A story in a book or online isn’t free to reuse. Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property rights still apply. The Bulun Bulun v R&T Textiles case made it clear cultural expressions remain under community control regardless of publication. 3) Content before consent. Drafting scripts or visuals and seeking sign-off later flips cultural authority on its head. It risks errors, offends people, and often leads to failure. Co-design from day one works. AIATSIS research shows projects that start with community co-design have a far higher chance of long-term endorsement. The bar has shifted. The AIATSIS Code of Ethics sets core principles: Indigenous self-determination, Indigenous leadership, impact and value, and sustainability and accountability. Creative Australia’s protocols require consent, attribution, and benefit-sharing. The Australian Government’s Revive cultural policy puts First Nations first, with structures to protect knowledge and cultural expressions. Funders and regulators now expect robust cultural governance, not just acknowledgements. Screen Australia requires detailed ICIP protocols for projects with Indigenous content. The Australia Council for the Arts requires cultural governance training for assessors. This isn’t red tape—it’s recognition that Indigenous knowledge systems need specialised expertise and genuine respect. So what works? In work alongside Elders, ranger groups, and art centres across the Top End and desert Country, enduring projects share one backbone: the right people, the right process, and the right pacing. Relationship first, always. Here’s the game-changer: don’t start with “What story can we tell?” Start with “What does Country need, and how might story serve that purpose?” That shift turns extraction into partnership. Step one: begin with Country, not content. Before researching any animal story, understand the ecological relationships that story governs. This is practical, not theoretical—it informs every decision. Map the animal to Country. A dingo story in Western Desert communities carries different law than a saltwater crocodile story in Arnhem Land. Cultural authority is local and specific. For example, Anangu at Uluru-Kata Tjuta distinguish different dingo ancestor tracks, each tied to obligations around water, hunting, and seasonal movement. With that granularity, you stop asking for “a dingo story” and start asking who holds which responsibilities on that Country. Tools help. Use the Atlas of Living Australia to see species distribution, then cross-reference with Native Title boundaries. That helps identify the Traditional Owner groups you need to speak with. Next, find the right custodians. Start with local Aboriginal Corporations, Land Councils, or cultural centres. Right person, right story, right way. The National Native Title Tribunal lists Prescribed Bodies Corporate—often a reliable entry point. When you reach out, be clear. Share your full name and organisation, the specific animal and Country, your intended audience, and your timeline. Attach a one-page, plain-English summary. Explain why this work matters for Country. And pay people properly. Budget for consultation, translation, cultural authority, and review. Build realistic timelines; seasonal and cultural calendars take precedence. Use the right terms. Many communities prefer Dreaming over Dreamtime. Dreaming isn’t the past—it’s continuous law. Ask local people what terms they prefer and use their language respectfully. Your words signal whether you see these knowledge systems as living or as artifacts. If you’re working directly with animals, connect story to behaviour and seasonality. Stories encode movement, breeding, feeding, and danger cues that keep people and animals safe. The show notes include a practical explainer to ground your care protocols in behaviour and Country. A few do’s and don’ts: Do co-design from the start. Ask who the cultural authority is and who should lead. Put consent in writing. Agree on what can be shared, what must remain restricted, and who approves final materials. Confirm attribution, benefit-sharing, and how revenue or opportunities flow back to community. Build a review cycle with time for language and cultural checks. Expect to iterate. Don’t assume a published story is yours to adapt. Don’t draft first and seek permission later. Don’t generalise across Countries or call something “an Aboriginal story” without anchoring it to place and authority. Don’t force timelines that clash with ceremony, seasons, or sorry business. If the guidance is “This story isn’t for public sharing,” accept that with gratitude and stop. Be mindful of restricted knowledge. Some stories are men’s or women’s business, some are ceremony-related, some are for specific age groups. Ask, listen, follow direction. Always ask before recording audio, video, or photos. Sometimes note-taking is fine; sometimes it’s not. Respect the call. Good pacing matters. Strong projects often begin with a visit—on Country if invited—to listen first. You might leave with actions unrelated to publication: supporting a language class, funding a ranger survey, or training local young people in digital skills. Those investments build trust that later allows stories to travel the right way. When you draft that email or proposal, make it easy to say yes or no. State the purpose, benefits to Country and community, timelines, and decision points where Elders or cultural authorities lead. Ask how governance should work: who signs off, who is credited, who owns the IP, and how materials are stored and accessed. Offer co-authorship where appropriate. Think long-term stewardship, not one-off extraction. Let’s circle back to dingoes. Across desert Countries, you’ll hear different Dreamings linked to their tracks, their shaping of Country, and their role in teaching rules of conduct. These aren’t quaint myths; they encode law and ecological knowledge. Archaeology and ecology deepen our understanding, but authority on story remains with custodians on Country. Balancing science alongside cultural law keeps projects accurate and respectful. As policy and funding expectations lift, your professionalism must lift with them. The AIATSIS Code of Ethics, Creative Australia’s protocols, and the Revive policy aren’t boxes to tick; they’re guides to better work. Screen Australia and the Australia Council have moved from encouragement to requirements because ethical governance gets better outcomes. Learn these frameworks. Budget for them. Let them shape your process from the outset. If you’re starting tomorrow, here’s your quick path: 1) Map your animal to Country. 2) Identify and contact the right custodians or organisations. 3) Co-design the purpose so story serves what Country needs. 4) Set clear consent, attribution, and benefit-sharing. 5) Build time and budget for proper review—and for the possibility that the right outcome is to keep the story within community. If this sounds slower than your usual process, that’s the point. Going slow is the fastest way to get it right. When you centre relationships, respect cultural authority, and anchor your work in Country, you not only avoid harm—you create projects with depth, accuracy, and integrity that stand up over time. I’ll leave you with this: ask better questions. Instead of “Can I use this story?” try “Who is the right person to lead this, and what does Country need from us?” Make that shift and the path gets clearer, the work gets kinder, and the outcomes get stronger—for people, animals, and place. You’ll find links in the show notes to the AIATSIS Code of Ethics, Creative Australia’s protocols, the Revive policy, and that explainer on animal behaviour and care. Thanks for listening—and for doing this work the right way: right person, right story, right way.