A large mob of kangaroos watches us from the emerald green hillside. Until four months ago, the paddock was dotted with cattle. Below it, on the flat around a dam, hundreds of trees have been planted to ensure forest reclaims pasture.
We're three abreast in the Polaris farm vehicle - Jon Cleary, his nephew Angus and myself - making our way up the hill towards the forest beyond. On this fresh late spring morning, a light southerly carries a hint of rain. It's hard to imagine just five years ago almost to the day, this was a blackened hellscape.
"I saw roos on fire. I saw roos run into the fire. I saw a lot of things that were dead. Birds, other mammals," Jon recalls. He had faced the fire on his own. "It was a sad thing, thinking maybe it will never come good again," Jon recalls. "You're at your bottom, your very bottom."
But it's not devastation we're heading off to see as we tour Nuggan, the 333-hectare family property near Bawley Point on the NSW South Coast. Rather, to see the astonishing speed at which nature has rebounded.
This is a tale of regeneration with interest far beyond its own geography.
Communities in all parts of Australia have and will have to grapple with the devastating effects of bushfires. The heartwrenching effects of seeing it all wiped out. And the myriad challenges of rebuilding the man-made and helping regenerate the natural.
The purpose of this morning safari is to hear how the Cleary family is determined to convert the former cattle farm into a wildlife sanctuary and protect it for future generations.
Nuggan sits between Willinga Lake and Meroo Lake in the Meroo National Park to the north, forming an important wildlife corridor. For the past three years, the Clearys have been monitoring as life returns to the blackened landscape.
"Some of the things that we were aware of before the fires, such as greater and yellow-bellied gliders, powerful owls, masked owls, we actually managed to observe within a year or so after the fires, which we were incredibly relieved to see," says Angus.
As well as direct monitoring the family has installed remote cameras to observe the species return. Audio capture is also employed to identify different animals.
In addition to their own efforts, researchers from the University of Wollongong have been on site conducting habitat surveys.
"From mid-2020 we've some ecologists come in doing some really intensive plant surveys, hollow surveys, even vertebrate surveys," says Angus. "We've been continually collecting data, even if it's just observations or anecdotes, on what's happening to the property, what it's looking like at every stage of the recovery."
From a vantage point near Armchair Beach in the national park, Jon points out Bawley Point township in the distance and the almost unbroken forest that spans the property and runs down to Meroo Lake. It's this physical connection the family wants to preserve for future generations.
It's an intention which would reverse the course of the property, which their father Colin bought from the NSW Forestry Commission in 1972. Back then, land clearing attracted government subsidies. Colin died in 1995, leaving the property to sons Jon and Andrew. Today, with a little help from the local Landcare group, Colin's descendants have planted 4500 trees.
Financial assistance is another matter. The Clearys are reluctant to become part of the biodiversity offset regime, which involves destruction of habitat in other areas - in effect robbing Peter to pay Paul.
Jon estimates the family has spent almost $100,000 in their quest to turn the farm into a private wildlife sanctuary. A lot of the work has involved removing internal infrastructure like fences which formed barriers for wildlife and plant species. Invasive weed control is another challenge.
"They have come in and taken off pretty easily and early," says Jon. "That's a hands-on job we've spent a lot of time doing."
Traps have been set to catch feral cats, but Jon says there has been no sign of wild dogs so far.
In an open glade, Angus checks for reptiles under pieces of corrugated iron left to provide shelter. Under one he finds a blue-tongue lizard. Another reveals a trio of yellow-bellied black snakes.
There's a ripple of excitement as a pair of box-tailed kites soar into view above us. "We haven't seen those before," says Angus. "They're probably nesting in the national park."
What the Clearys have seen in unexpected abundance are lyrebirds. They point out the mounds built by males to attract mates.
Our tour takes us to the edge of the rainforest which has returned to a steep gully. We pick our way down into a cool, ferny environment quite distinct from the wooded area above. Angus stops to listen for birds. Jon takes in the scene - the bright green moss cloaking logs, the dappled light filtered through the canopy above - so transformed from the blackened apocalypse of five years ago.
"As things started to come back, green blade by green blade, it was just incredible to watch," says Jon.
We pull up at Reedy Creek, which flows into Meroo Lake. A black snake is curled up in the grass. Meroo is one of the most pristine coastal lakes in NSW, Jon explains, home in breeding season to hundreds of black swans. Just four kilometres from the busy highway, it's the picture of tranquillity.
"The wetland around the lake is where you get green and golden bell frogs breeding," says Angus. "They've declined because of chytrid fungus. Where you have a bit of salt in the water, the fungus can't survive so all these threatened species really thrive in these coastal ecosystems."
His passion is infectious, his knowledge beyond his years, his eyes sharp.
"This here is a shrub turpentine," he says, pointing to an unremarkable-looking sapling growing between two larger trees. "They're critically endangered. They suffer from a disease called myrtle rust so you don't get many large ones any more. So we're lucky in that we've had a few pop up after the fires."
On the way back to the homestead, we come across an echidna making its way along the track. Close examination reveals nature at work. An engorged leech has navigated its way through the quills and will soon fall off.
The morning has been an enriching experience - a deep immersion in the environment. And that's what the Clearys want to preserve for future generations. It's their sacred mission.
"It almost makes me tear up sometimes," says Jon. "Today, you've come out with a smile on your face as you were driving up there. That's all we need because we've done it for you."
But there are significant legal hurdles to be navigated. Not least is finding a way to ensure a future generation doesn't decide to turn the place into a golf course or housing subdivision. The challenge is to draw up a lasting covenant.
"They say three to four generations is relatively OK, and from there it's anybody's game," says Jon.
"There's a few options that we're trying to investigate but there's a lot of red tape and so as a result we haven't locked down any single system."
Until they find a way to secure the sanctuary into the distant future, the focus is on immediate priorities like replacing the boundary fence lost in the fire, keeping the invasive plants and animals out and engaging the local community, which has enthusiastically embraced the Clearys' vision.
