The towns that turned their lights off
Above the Warrumbungles the night sky is protected like a national park, because it is one.
Wildlife returning, wild places recovering, and people protecting what they love, from all over the world.
Above the Warrumbungles the night sky is protected like a national park, because it is one.
The pink eared duck spends its life chasing rain across the continent. This year the rain fell, the wetlands filled, and the ducks arrived in their thousands.
Scientists found 1,121 new marine species in a single year, and they are just getting started.
The first national picture of who actually pollinates Australia has been drawn, and the native bees come out of it looking like heroes in waiting.
On the cliffs of Dorset, volunteers watched a puffin chick leave its nest for the first time in three decades.
Fifty years ago Lady Elliot Island was a stripped coral cay. In June, the man who spent four decades replanting it was given a lifetime achievement award, and you can go and see what the fuss is about.
One hundred and eight women guard Kaziranga's rhinos, and the poachers have gone quiet.
Japan's toki was gone from the wild. This May, a crowd in Hakui watched eight fly free in the very place they were last seen.
At Eaglehawk Neck, people come from all over the world to spend four cold weeks putting giant kelp back on the reef.
In Azamgarh, village councils cleaned eighty nine kilometres of the Tamsa, then planted sixty five thousand fruit trees along her banks.
The Old Ladies Against Underwater Garbage ask that you be at least sixty four. The rest of us can start with a bag and a pair of gloves.
In Namibia, a message from space now helps farmers and free roaming elephants share the same dry rivers in peace.