Tales from the suburbs: Why new housing developments give me the blues.

New housing developments are strange places. They feel like the scene of a disaster that unfolded just moments before you got there. You have to look past the new houses and clean cul-de-sacs, the fresh paint on the streetlamps. Start with the trees. See the lone survivor from the forest now no more? Exposed and alone, the wind blows it out of shape. See the native flower, in amongst the grass? A natural relic from an obliterated habitat.

But these are not lifeless places—quite the opposite, in fact. There are all sorts of creatures wandering about, homeless trauma victims suddenly finding themselves on the edge of survival. It might be a koala up a power pole, where months earlier stood a red gum. It might be a brolga named Bruce, who wanders a floodplain now paved. Some animals do alright at first, like the kangaroos that are gifted with fresh lawns to graze, or the rainbow bee-eaters that enjoy the open space. It’s only later that their fortunes fade, when the landscape is given over to the cars and the pets.

At Agnes Water, I step out into the front yard of my weekend accommodation (am I part of the problem?) and hear an almighty yelping overhead: a noisy friarbird is in panicked pursuit of a crow that has something small in its beak. At a certain distance, the friarbird gives up and turns back towards an isolated moreton bay ash in the empty lot next door. I think that’s where it must have a nest, from which the crow has snatched a baby. I wonder how long ago it was that the ash was surrounded by other trees that afforded more protection. Does the friarbird remember this landscape as a woodland?

Inside my holiday rental is a large eastern striped skink that wanders from room to room. There are no hollow logs in this place anymore, but empty wardrobes and the space beneath the sofa suffice as lizard living quarters. I hope that future guests will be kind to it. I hope they see that it is just trying to live its life, the way we all are.