Hey, Thoughty2 here. Australia is home to some truly nightmarish
creations. And no, I donât mean Neighbours, which has
inexplicably been on British TV for over thirty years. Iâm talking about wildlife. The kind you can only find in the land down
under; snakes that can kill you in an instant, spiders the size of your head, and a variety
of other creatures that would rip out your intestines and eat your face as soon as you
look at it. With that in mind, youâd think that if the
Australian Government ever decided to declare all-out war on one of the creatures that roam
their beautiful land, it would be on something venomous, carnivorous, or at the very least
mildly bad tempered. But no. In perhaps the greatest version of âman
versus beastâ ever recorded, the Aussies went after the Emu. The ensuing struggle was so bloody it is today
known as the Great Emu war of 1932. And no, Iâm not making that up. But you can see why the government would want
to go to town on these fearsome creatures, canât you? Just look at them! The baleful, dead eyes, the small-but-probably-very-deadly
beak, the stubby legs that could quite happily kick your elderly grandmother to death ... but
actually, the reasons for wanting to commit mass âemucideâ were a bit more complicated
than that. After World War One, the government decided
to give their discharged veterans some land in Western Australia so they could live out
their days as farmers, have a bit of peace and quiet, and try to forget all about the
horrors of war. It sounded good on paper, but in reality,
it didnât quite turn out to be the utopia the veterans had expected. The land was unfertile and the farming hard,
backbreaking work. And then the Great Depression arrived in 1929
to make things even worse. Wheat prices fell precipitously, the government
failed to follow through on promised subsidies for farmers, and then, in 1932, just to add
insult to injury, the emus turned up. Twenty thousand of them. And what was worse, they were hungry for the
sweet taste of man-flesh⌠well OK wheat. But still - they were hungry, you could say
they were peckish. Mind you, this wasnât the first time the
emus had made themselves known. Far from it. Up until 1922, emus had been a protected species,
but they were soon reclassified as âverminâ after it became clear they had no respect
for social etiquette. Emus, you see, donât have a firm grasp on
the concept of farming. Through the eyes of an emu, a farm is basically
a very convenient kind of all you can eat buffet. But farming in Western Australia is hard enough
as it is, so when a horde of weird-looking birds come along to joyfully munch through
the literal fruits of your labour, you arenât going to take it lying down. In 1923, a bounty system was introduced offering
cash for every emu killed. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and
it probably would have worked pretty well if it hadnât been for the numbers. These ex-military farmers were all well trained
with a rifle, of course, but even with all their human-killing expertise, they were unable
to slow the wave of feathered enemies heading towards them across âno manâs landâ
- they simply didnât have enough ammo. By the time 1932 rolled around, it had become
abundantly clear that unless somebody invented a bomb that specifically vaporised emus, the
farmers were going to need more guns. Specifically of the large, fully automatic
variety. Soon enough, several of these ex-soldiers
were knocking on Minister of Defence Sir George Pearceâs door asking for more firepower:
feather penetrating rounds, beak-seeking missiles, and of course - a lot more emunitionâŚ... OK, so they didnât ask for any of those
things. For reasons I canât explain, they appear
to have had almost no interest whatsoever in puns. But they did ask for machine guns with which
to battle their emu opponents. And amazingly, the government agreed, not
only providing the weapons in the form of two lewis guns, but also sending in the army
to wield them. The transport of fresh soldiers was paid for
by the Western Australian Government, and the farmers provided food, accommodation,
and paid for the ammunition. It was probably overkill, but as far as Pearce
was concerned, the birds would provide good target practice for his men, and their feathers
could be used to make hats for the Light Horsemen. After all, if youâre killing thousands of
birds with two machine guns, you might as well kill two birds with one stone while youâre
at it. The operation was led by Major G.P.W Meredith
of the Seventh Heavy Battery of the Royal Australian Artillery, and if the amount of
syllables in a personâs title are an indication of their emu-murdering capabilities then he
was certainly the man for the job. In October 1932, he took two soldiers from
his battery â along with two Lewis guns and ten thousand rounds of ammunition â and
headed off to assist the farmers. During the first day, however, the âwarâ
was called off by rain, which admittedly makes it sound more like a tennis match at Wimbledon
than a serious military campaign. You couldn't imagine Hitler saying 'hold on
lads, our Panzers are getting damp, let's invade Poland tomorrow'. Anyway, this unexpected downpour made the
enemy scatter, which was a significant problem, because when youâre trying to fire a barrage
of machine gun bullets into a crowd of emus, you really donât want them to start valuing
their personal space. But by the second of November, hostilities
had resumed once more. It was at this point Meredith and his men
attempted to herd about fifty emus into a small area to make sure they were in range
of the guns. But the emus appeared to cotton onto this
plan, and responded by employing their own version ofâguerrilla tacticsâ, scattering
into smaller units so they were difficult to target en mass. Even so, a stubby little beak versus a machine
gun isnât exactly a fair fight, and sadly, quite a few valiant birds lost their lives
that day. But it took so many bullets to do the job
that questions began to be asked as to whether the whole âmachine gun the emusâ thing
was economically viable. Maybe âfinancial warfareâ was part of
the emusâ battle plan all along⌠although theyâve never been known for their accountancy
skills. Either way, Meredith had obviously vastly
underestimated the enemy. Not only were they becoming increasingly difficult
to hit, but when his men did manage to shoot one, most of the time the birds seemed to
just take it in their stride. So much so that it was taking an average of
ten bullets to bring down a single emu, although admittedly most of those shots missed their
mark in the first place. Major Meredith later said: âIf we had a
military with the bullet-carrying capacity of these birds, it would face any army in
the world. They can face machine guns with the invulnerability
of tanksâ ⌠and if thatâs true, why were we still using tanks in World War Two? Shouldnât the Allies have ditched the armoured
vehicles and ridden into Berlin on emus instead? The war of man versus feathery beast continued,
but frankly, by this point it was a comedy of errors. The next thing Meredith did was to set up
an ambush near a local dam, and on the fourth of November, over a thousand emus were spotted
heading towards it. Everything was going swimmingly. All they had to do was wait until those âbeaky
bastardsâ were close enough and open fire. But as the birds finally got within range,
the lewis guns jammed, and only twelve emus were killed, while the rest legged it. Yet another day in the Great Emu War of 1932
was over without much to write home about. Meredith was clearly struggling to match wits
with his emu equivalent. And as crazy as it may sound, it really did
seem like the enemy were operating under orders. In fact, several days into the war, observers
noted that each pack of emus appeared to have its own general; a big guy, about six foot
high, with black feathers, who called the shots, and kept watch while the other emus
helped themselves to crops. And is it just me, or do you imagine him wearing
a battle-scarred helmet on his tiny head, cigar clamped tightly in his beak, and saying
things like: âI love the smell of napalm in the morningâ? No? Just me then. Out of frustration, or maybe pure desperation,
the army mounted one of the Lewis guns on a truck and tried to mow the emus down that
way. The emus, however, were like Usain Bolt on
speed. Not only that, but the ride was so bumpy the
gunner in the back was unable to fire off any shots. At one point, a particularly brave âkamikazeâ
emu managed to get his corpse caught in the truckâs steering equipment, causing the
driver to steer into a somebodyâs fence, which promptly disintegrated ⌠and in Western
Australia, fences were pretty damn important ⌠which was another reason Emus had to be
sacrificed on the altar of agriculture. You see, Emus not only destroyed the crops,
they also left gaps in fences where rabbits could get through. âSo what?â I hear you ask. âWhatâs the big deal about a few cute,
fluffy bunnies?â Well, rabbits are a very big deal in Oz, hence
the âRabbit Proof Fenceâ which runs for 1,700 kilometres across Western Australia. Theyâre a significant factor in species
loss, and have a huge impact on both natural resources and crops due to the fact they graze
like a fat man at a wedding. Mind you, the Rabbit Fence hasnât done a
fantastic job of bunny-massacring, because theyâre still a problem. In the 1950s, the myxoma virus â which causes
myxomatosis -- was deliberately introduced into the rabbit population in Australia. This cut down numbers for a while, but the
rabbits have since developed immunity, allowing them to keep on breeding like ... well, like
rabbits. Could the Great Rabbit War be next? Only time will tell. By the eighth of November, 1932, two-thousand-five-hundred
shots had been fired in the Great Emu War - all of them by the human side, I should
add. But the number of emus killed was only in
the hundreds, with some claiming it was as low as fifty. Still, it wasnât all doom and gloom, because
Meredith made a note in his official report -- sounding particularly proud of himself
-- that not one of his men had been injured during the battle. Which is a miracle when you think about it. I mean, these poor men were left to face a
mass of placid, flightless birds all on their own with nothing but machine guns to defend
themselves. Itâs a miracle any of those boys got out
alive. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was also around
this point Meredith started losing the support of the local media. They were making quite a big deal of the fact
that âonly a few emus were dyingâ, especially given the Rambo-esque levels of firepower
being brought to bear. It also didnât help that serious questions
were being asked in parliament. For example, when one politician suggested
medals should be awarded to those brave soldiers taking part in the emu war, a member of the
opposition said the medals should be given to the emus, as theyâd âwon every round
so farâ. If the agricultural ramifications hadnât
been so serious, Meredith and his men could easily have become a laughing stock. Defence Minister George Pearce, who had agreed
to the whole thing in the first place, was even given the unofficial title âMinister
for the Emu War,â which could hardly have been a feather in the cap of his military
career ⌠Still, he kept on defending the operation, and with support from the Premier
of Western Australia it was agreed battle would recommence. On the thirteenth of November bullets were
flying again, and by the second of December the military were killing around a hundred
emus per week. That was definitely an improvement, but it
was hardly putting a dent in the mass ranks of emus, and by 1934, the higher-ups in government
were clearly at the end of their feather - I mean tether. Iâll stop now I promise. The bounty system was reintroduced, and the
farmers were given enough ammunition to take care of the issue themselves. Which proved to be pretty effective, because
over fifty-seven thousand bounties were claimed in the following six-months. Mind you, there must still have been a fair
few emus knocking around, because in 1943 wheat farmers were concerned enough to request
military assistance with the growing emu threat once again. And, apparently having learned from the debacle
with the lewis guns, this time the farmers had a better idea - they wanted the army to
bring bombs. Lotâs of bombs. Iâm happy to say the military respectfully
declined this invitation. But the emu problem wasnât going away, and
in 1950 it was raised in federal parliament, where Army Minister Josiah Francis approved
the release of five-hundred-thousand rounds of ammunition to help with the claiming of
bounties. All told around three-hundred-thousand emus
were killed in Western Australia as part of the Great emu war and the skirmishes that
followed. But who really won The Great Emu War of 1932? Man? Or Emu? Itâs true, a lot of emus were sent to meet
their beaky maker, and, so far as we know, not one human combatant died in the line of
duty. But even so, the emus put up a remarkably
good fight, considering the circumstances. These days, the majestic emu appears on the
Australian coat of arms ⌠which is more than you can say for Major G.P.W Meredith. And in 2020, a video game was released based
around the Emu War ⌠but Iâve yet to see a game set in the Western Australian parliament. Perhaps the greatest victory of all, however,
is that the Emu is still with us, and itâs thankfully now illegal for anyone to murder
them with machine guns, bombs, or anything else for that matter. So, maybe that sarcastic politician was right. Maybe the emus should have been given a medal. And maybe we should have a day of remembrance
for those emus who lost their lives defending their right to eat their own body weight in
wheat. Maybe we can convince Christopher Nolan to
make a movie about it like he did with âDunkirkâ. Iâm sure Tom Hardy would make a fantastic
emu. Thanks for watching.
The government didn't actually declare war, they tried to cull some emus for the farmers but when they started failing the papers dubbed it the 'emu war' as a pisstake.
There is a great podcast. Time Suck by Dan Cummins, the great Emu War
America did the same thing with Coyotes. They sent the army to the west to kill them all by all means necessary. Including poison and explosives. They failed and now they are everywhere. You could argue that they basically pushed them beyond their range and disrupted the family system allowing them to spread more.