Radio Tracking Echidnas on Kangaroo Island

By Fayette Fox

Fayette Fox is a marketing copywriter, published novelist, and artist, based in Oakland, California.

Blog Author Fayette Fox I ran past eucalyptus trees, worried I’d be late. Every morning, the other volunteers and I gathered so Dr. Peggy Rismiller could give us our assignments. We’d be paired up, handed a list of animals to find, and weighed down with radio-tracking equipment, we would trek off into the Australian bush.

It was 1996, and I was almost 17. I loved animals, travel, and wanted to make a positive difference in the world. After hearing about �Ӱ��̳ from a family friend, I was excited to join an expedition, radio tracking echidnas on Kangaroo Island, Australia. Echidnas, in case you haven’t heard of them, are egg-laying mammals with hedgehog spikes that can roll into a ball the size of a basketball. I saved enough babysitting money for half the trip, and my parents generously covered the rest.

Running to the morning meeting, I imagined arriving after everyone had gotten their assignments. This was before �Ӱ��̳ had teen expeditions, and I was the youngest volunteer in the group. Half the volunteers were guys in their 20s, and the other half were middle-aged women who were all teachers. I didn’t really fit in with either group, but everyone was friendly and kind to me. I didn’t want to be late, so I ran faster.

I rounded a bend and saw Dr. Peggy Rismiller herself, strolling along the trail. She wore round glasses and her hair was a sort of echidna mullet — long in the back and spiky on top.

“You don’t need to run,” she said. “They can’t start the meeting without me.”

Laughing, I fell into step next to her.

“I’m never in a hurry,” she said, “and I’m never late.”

“Like an echidna!” I said.

Short-beaked echidna walking on rocky coastal terrain with the ocean and small islands in the background.

Scenic view of the coastline on Kangaroo Island with blue ocean, cliffs, and native Australian vegetation under a bright sky.

Close-up of bright green eucalyptus leaves hanging from a smooth white and brown tree trunk in sunlight.

Peggy and her photographer partner, Mike McKelvey, started studying echidnas in 1988. Our field research was helping expand the body of scientific knowledge about these unusual animals.

At the meeting, I was paired with Ellen, one of the teachers, to track down echidnas named Pasta, Nutmeg, and Curry.*

Ellen and I hiked through forests with mossy groundcover. We’d learned that mainland Australia used to be mossy too, until rabbits were introduced and gobbled it up. Rabbits (as well as cane toads and foxes) were thankfully never brought to Kangaroo Island. As a result, the island, which lies 70 miles southwest of Adelaide, is like a window back in time to how mainland Australia once looked. Delighted, I imagined myself as an ecological time traveler.

Each echidna on our list had a little transmitter glued to their spikes, which Peggy assured us didn’t bother them. I tuned our radio to Pasta the echidna’s unique frequency and held the directional antenna high in the air, slowly rotating, searching for a signal. We heard a faint ping on our radio. Pasta was within range!

As we walked across open grassland, the pings got increasingly louder and then quieter. We looked at each other, confused.

“Did we pass him?” Ellen asked.

“We turned around, and the pings got louder again.

After a bit of searching, we found the echidna, nestled under a bush, his golden spikes camouflaged against the plant. We noted the coordinates, vegetation, and weather on our clipboard. I took a few photos with my new 35mm camera, excited to share my adventures with friends and family when I got home.

Ellen and I tuned our radio to the next echidna’s frequency and set off.

A kangaroo standing on a grassy patch near a coastal cliff on Kangaroo Island, with turquoise sea and trees in the background.

Dense Australian bushland on Kangaroo Island with eucalyptus trees and grass trees growing on a sloped forest floor.

Close-up of a short-beaked echidna walking on grass, showcasing its sharp spines and snout. Photo credit: Mike McKelvey.

Being so far from home and helping with real scientific research was empowering. It was also a lot of fun. We frequently spotted kangaroos and fed our banana peels to wallabies. On our days off, Peggy and Mike took us to see penguins and koalas in the wild.

Two days before the end of the trip, I was changing out a roll of film in my camera when, horrified, I realized I hadn’t loaded the film correctly. During my entire trip I hadn’t actually taken any photos at all! Devastated, I went to Mike, who kindly showed me how to load the film. I then ran around taking photos of the mossy forests, open grasslands, Peggy and Mike, the other volunteers, the kangaroos, and of course, the echidnas—trying to capture something before my trip was over.

Now, almost 30 years later, I’ve misplaced all the photos, and incredibly, Peggy and Mike are still radio tracking echidnas on Kangaroo Island. I wrote about the trip for my college application essay and went to my first-choice school, though I don’t recall what I shared. What I do remember is the feeling of being part of a group, the excitement of exploring the natural world, the joy of being of service, and starting to see myself as someone who seeks out incredible experiences.

*Full disclosure, at this point, I don’t remember any of the other volunteers’ names. I do, however, remember some of the echidnas’ names, many of which were named by past �Ӱ��̳ volunteers.

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