As I write this, record downpours in the Boulia region have turned the channel country into a slow-moving inland sea for the third year in succession. The pulse of the desert has been beating fast in recent times, after a period in which it was barely discernible. Climatic events that are seen as catastrophic when they occur around the rim of the continent are recognised as the norm as you move inland. The natural patterns of flood and aridity are written into the country, nowhere more clearly than in the south-west corner of Queensland, where the great inland rivers – the Georgina, Diamantina, and Cooper – meet the dune-fields of the Simpson Desert. That these patterns, or pulses, are the norm is evident in the boom and bust adaptations of the ecology of the region, the profligacy with which life exploits the unpredictable inundations, and the capacity to switch to survival mode during hard, dry times. In the face of an unpredictable future, the desert may have lessons for the whole of Australia.

Desert Channels: The Impulse to Conserve tells the story of this iconic and remote region. Like the braided channels of the desert waterways that give this part of Australia its unique character, the book weaves together the multiple strands that make up its cultural and natural environment. While a strong ecological thread runs through the book, as much attention is paid to the people, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous, who make up Australia’s character today and who have occupied and explored it in the past.

In the prologue, written jointly by environmental historian Libby Robin and archaeologist Mike Smith, reference is made to ‘an old idea that the structure of a landscape affects not just the ecology of a region but also its historical geography’:

In the case of the Desert Channels region, these deeper structures are provided by the arid rivers that create a broad corridor along the eastern margin of the arid zone. They form a chain of ecological, cultural and historical connections across 10 degrees of latitude, a vast swathe across the interior of the Australian landmass.

An example of this chain of connections is described by Mike Letnic in his essay on the trading of the narcotic pituri, prepared from the plant Duboisia hopwoodii, which grows throughout the north-eastern Simpson Desert. Anecdotal evidence from early explorers suggests that it was widely traded and prized by the Indigenous people of the region, and that its value as a commodity was later exploited by early settlers, who stockpiled the drug as a means of attracting and keeping Indigenous labour.

The book begins with an introduction to the locality and its bio-regions by ecologist Chris Dickman, who for twenty years has been visiting and studying the Desert Channels, forging long-term relationships with the place and its people. Dickman provides scientific gravitas with an engagingly lucid style, and his expertise and passion infuse subsequent chapters with a sense of pleased astonishment that the natural world can present so multifarious a character.

An essay by historian Tom Griffiths goes some way towards reclaiming the testimony of writer Alice Duncan-Kemp, who grew up on Mooraberrie Station at the beginning of the twentieth century. The empathy that allowed Duncan-Kemp recognitions and insights also made her suspect as a reliable witness, and her detailed observations of the lives and customs of the local Indigenous people, recorded in a style that echoed Aboriginal techniques of storytelling, undermined her credibility among the scientists of her own culture.

Contemporary local testimony is provided by Karen and Angus Emmott, exemplary custodians of country for which they feel a profound attachment and responsibility. The observations and natural history collections of Angus Emmott, who developed a passion for natural history as a child, have made a significant contribution to the scientific understanding of the region.

Subsequent chapters explore the diversity of the natural environment through its plants and animals, birds, insects, and reptiles, its fossil record, the ecosystems of its rivers and artesian springs. A series of ‘Interludes’ punctuate each section with painting sequences by Mandy Martin, whose artistic project is committed to the recognition of aesthetic values as an intrinsic part of environmental values.

What emerges as one makes one’s way through the book is a sense of how many people are working together towards a single goal: the sustainability of a unique and significant region. Desert Channels first draws the reader into an appreciation of the ecological and cultural value of the channel country, and in the final section of the book delivers a group of essays dedicated to models for conservation.

Pastoralist Guy Fitzhardinge argues that ‘The formal conservation estate will always be too small to meet the goals for conservation sought by the urban population.’ Much of the channel country is under pastoral leases, and Fitzhardinge goes on to describe partnerships which include local pastoralists, scientists, and National and International non-government organisations, and to outline practical strategies by which production and conservation can coexist within the market-driven economies of today.

In his essay on desert livelihoods, Mark Stafford Smith uses the term ‘desert drivers’ to describe the feedback loop between unpredictable climate, scarce resources, sparse population, and remoteness, and the impact these factors have on the financial livelihoods of the people who live there. The same factors are responsible for the survival of the desert’s great resources of cultural and natural heritage, and it is on these more reliable resources that Stafford Smith argues that desert livelihoods can be built. ‘The future of these livelihoods depends on establishing the value of inland Australia in the national mind, and establishing more resilient ways of funding it.’

It is in this spirit that the Lake Eyre Basin Aboriginal Forum is convened, to bring together traditional knowledge with scientific understanding of the environment, and to approach conservation as a shared enterprise. Luke Keogh uses his essay to tell stories within stories, allowing Indigenous voices to speak alongside scientists and historians.

In the final chapter, Libby Robin describes the scientific sharing of knowledge that has contributed to the extensive resource now available. What stands out is the generosity of knowledge-sharing, the mentoring, and the generational passing of batons. This is how one hopes science works, with an eye on the greater good, the advancement of knowledge rather than the advancement of careers, and a passionate curiosity about the natural world in all its variety and strangeness.

Desert Channels combines accessibility with serious intent, weaving a tapestry of people and place, stories and science, traditions and aspirations, art and anecdote, providing models for conservation that reflect multifaceted strategies and partnerships. In the spirit of Alice Duncan-Kemp, the editors have sought to reintegrate multiple ways of reading and caring for the country she loved and wrote about so many years ago.

As for describing ceremonies and symbolic sticks, flowers or anything else, once you begin it is like pulling the threads in a carpet pattern … you cannot accurately describe one thing without disturbing or touching on another.