Sadly, no one has told wild animals how to behave

On the other side of the world, as far away as can be imagined from the urgent debate surrounding the feeding of pigeons in Trafalgar Square, another controversy concerning man and animals is unfolding.

On the other side of the world, as far away as can be imagined from the urgent debate surrounding the feeding of pigeons in Trafalgar Square, another controversy concerning man and animals is unfolding.

Its focus is Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world, situated off the coast of Queensland. Because of its unusual geological conditions, the place is ecologically important, a World Heritage site which is a mecca for tourists interested in wildlife. The brochures promise glorious freshwater lakes, over 230 species of birds and ­ one of the island's greatest marketing assets ­ a rare colony of pure-bred dingoes. Elsewhere in Australia, this species of wild dog has interbred with domestic breeds, but on Fraser Island the original genetic strain lives on.

Until the last few days, it was estimated that there were 200 dingoes left on Fraser Island. Now there are fewer. They are being shot. Last week, a nine-year-old boy called Clinton Gage, playing on a beach with his brother, was killed by a pair of dingoes. The Queensland government acted quickly, ignoring the objections of environmentalists and pointing out that, on such occasions, human life comes first. Marksmen have so far shot 12 dingoes, concentrating in the areas around camping grounds. There will be more, because that is precisely where the animals have learnt to come for food.

Until the 1970s, there were no records of dingoes attacking humans, but with the growth of tourism and changing human attitudes towards animals, they have lost that essential fear. Tourists want to see a dingo, to get a photograph of one to take home. In spite of warnings ­ but often with the collusion of money-minded campsite owners ­ they feed them. With increasing frequency, particularly at this time of the year when they are breeding, the animals try to take more than titbits.

Maybe it is all David Attenborough's fault. For the past 30 years, increasingly sophisticated documentaries, some gurgly and Disneyesque, others full of astonishing ain't-nature-wonderful moments, have brought wildlife into our living rooms, presenting a seductively approachable view of the wild.

Now we want to see it, to be part of it. We require the animals to be every bit as accommodating and generally adorable as they are on telly. Attenborough's legendary romp with the mountain gorillas of Rwanda was a particularly harmful act of distorting propaganda. Look, the film seemed to be saying, even the most powerful mammals in the world can be cosy and loving if you are nice enough to them.

Unfortunately no one told animals that this was how they were to behave. Gawping humans may treat them like pets, but they continue to protect their territory, defend their family, and gather what food is offered ­ be it a sandwich or a child.

When the very animals we expect to be cute ­ mammals, particularly those belonging to the dog family ­ turn out to be wild, the old atavistic fears emerge. We hunt them down in the name of human life or livelihoods. It happened to the European wolf, to the wild dog in Africa, and now it is the turn of the dingo.

This reaction is entirely emotional. No Australian in his right mind suggests culling the funnelweb spider, the blue-ringed octopus, the box jellyfish or even the shark. Killing, after all, is what they do.

Mammals are different. Our view of them is as gloopy and odd as that of the activists here who freed mink to kill indigenous species, or of Tony Banks as he feeds the Trafalgar Square pigeons as if some basic humanitarian issue were involved.

Animals are expected to conform to the way we, in our domesticated, tourist-friendly universe, perceive them. If they do not, it is not a human problem, but theirs ­ and it's culling time again.

terblacker@aol.com