Chasten Hunter is the first to hear the foal calling out from deep in the Queensland bush. He hails the other five rangers and they are soon tramping through the thick forest to find the injured animal. Its once white hair is now matted and brown and it’s shaking uncontrollably. A severe gash on its leg makes its attempts to stand up painful to watch.

The Gunggandji-Mandingalbay Yidinji rangers decide to take the foal back to their base camp in Yarrabah, a small town an hour’s drive from Cairns. The men carry the injured foal to a nearby dirt track and load it onto ranger co-ordinator John Wilson’s ute. Hunter and ranger Victor Bulmer join the animal on the ute’s tray to make sure it remains calm on the drive back.

“John, the horse said slow down,” yells Hunter as the car bumps down the dirt track, sending everyone flying into the air and crashing against the ute’s metal tray. Despite the bumpy road, flying rocks and speed, the foal has stopped its awkward attempts to stand and lays its head down. It’s relieved to have been rescued.

Back at the ranger base, the men find a paralysis tick in its mane, which suggests the prognosis is not good. A travelling vet in town agrees: the animal will need to be put down unless the owner can afford the necessary medicine. The foal, about three months old, is loaded into another van by a council worker who will see if they can find the owner. Despite the sombre mood at the ranger camp, the foal’s determination to survive offers a tiny sliver of hope it could last through the night.

The Age and Herald spent two days with the Indigenous rangers to observe them at work. They say it’s a dream job to work on their country, where there’s something different every day. The country they work on spans 8200 hectares of Aboriginal land and was determined as exclusively native title by the Federal Court of Australia in 2012. The area is held in trust by the Gunggandji-Mandingalbay Yidinji Peoples Prescribed Body Corporate (GMYPPBC), which manages the land on behalf of the Gunggandji and Mandingalbay Yidinji people. About 18 months ago, the organisation commenced a ranger program that employs eight rangers from Yarrabah. It works alongside two other ranger programs in the area.

The township is the seventh-most disadvantaged postcode in the country and has a population of about 2500, of whom 95 per cent are Indigenous. Its unemployment rate is above 40 per cent — the national average is 3.8 per cent — and it has a staggering crime rate. Driving through town, ranger Fredrick Lefoe points out the service station: “This place always gets broken into,” he says. At the local primary school, he notes the shade cloth had to be removed after the children kept climbing on top of it and pulling it down.

“Some boys don’t have employment,” Hunter says. Like the other young men, he is often asked by the community whether there are any more ranger jobs.

Head Ranger Roszaly Aitken grew up in Yarrabah but left to spend time in the navy and as a carpenter. He always intended on returning. There’s a saying the elders are fond of: “Whenever you leave and learn something new, bring it back.” That’s just what the years away have taught him, says Aitken. “There are bigger places than Yarrabah and [I’ve also learnt] the skill set to mentor the young fellas.”

The rangers conduct cultural burns, run educational programs for the local children and set up cameras to monitor feral cats and pigs. But their favourite activity is flying a drone over a small creek to monitor about 15 crocodiles, including one called Big John who is missing part of his tail. The work helps them inform the community about crocodile safety and gain a better understanding of the animals with whom they share their environment.

But it’s also about observing how their environment is changing. Shatner Patterson, who is employed as a cultural engagement officer, and ranger Justin Keyes say over their lifetime, the coastline has eroded by about 50 metres. Years ago, houses lined the beach. But higher and higher tides have seen those families move to safer ground.

The men are concerned that as climate change worsens, so will their country. Patterson says his people have already lost so much through colonisation, including their storylines, and that’s why the ranger program is so important. It’s about preserving and passing along what remains to the next generation.

The most recent federal state of environment report notes that Indigenous knowledge and practices are key to environmental management, and that ignoring these can negatively impact health and wellbeing. The report notes land rights and native title have enabled recognition of some Indigenous rights across 57 per cent of Australia’s lands.

Director of Aboriginal research at Sydney University, Professor Jakelin Troy, says Indigenous ranger programs are vital because they include the voices and knowledge of those who know their country and its needs best. Troy says Australia is leading the way in integrating Indigenous knowledge of conservation and land management, but that push has only occurred in the past five years.

“What we see in Australia and what is being recognised now, is that the future is going to depend on having a deep understanding of the Indigenous landscape, so we can ... plan for the changes that are going to happen,” she says.

She adds that state and federal governments need to keep investing in Indigenous ranger programs and making them embedded practices to help sustain the health of ecosystems. More must be done to ensure knowledge from Indigenous elders is passed to the next generation, she says.

“If these places are destroyed, all people lose,” Troy says. “Indigenous rangers are switched on to what is going on, not only in climate change which is bringing increasing environmental catastrophe but also understanding the cultural value of places.

“Our histories are everybody’s history — we need to protect them.”

Federal Environment Minister Tanya Plibersek says Indigenous ranger programs are a way for First Nations people to be acknowledged when they care for Country, as well as bringing wider benefits to the community, including employment in areas where jobs are scarce.

“The future is going to depend on having a deep understanding of the Indigenous landscape.”

Director of Aboriginal research at Sydney University Jakelin Troy

“For 60,000 years, Indigenous people have been looking after the Australian environment. We need to respect that and learn from it,” she says.

Through the National Indigenous Australians Agency, the federal government funds 80 organisations for more than 128 ranger groups, employing about 1900 Indigenous rangers. Additionally, state and territories fund their own programs.

Federal Minister for Indigenous Australians Linda Burney says Indigenous rangers play an important role in caring for land and sea country using traditional knowledge and cultural practices to help protect our natural environment and cultural heritage.

Despite the beneficial role Indigenous rangers play in the environmental, cultural, social and economic outcomes for their communities and the country more broadly, there is a need for more resources. The federal government had committed to doubling the number of Indigenous rangers by the end of the decade. Between July 1, 2022, and June 30, 2028, funding is expected to be about $1.3 billion. But government support can often be tied to a funding cycle.

Some organisations that support ranger groups have created other ways of generating income. For example, the Mandingalbay Yidinji Aboriginal Corporation, with support from the Djunbunji Ranger Program, delivers tours through their land, taking visitors through East Trinity Reserve — the location of one of the worst environmental disasters in Queensland. In the 1970s, the 774-hectare area experienced catastrophic acidification after it was drained for sugarcane cultivation, making the area uninhabitable. Now, hydrated lime is flushed through to manage the acidity, and the river bank teems with mangroves, crabs and fish. The rangers ferry visitors through the twisting canals, before welcoming them with a smoking ceremony and sharing stories and knowledge.

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Djunbunji ranger co-ordinator Victor Bulmer, whose son is a ranger in the GMYPPBC program, has played a pivotal role in seeing the area granted Indigenous Protected Area status. Bulmer says being able to work on his Country as well as share his story with others gives him a sense of pride. “I will always be here,” he says.

Also keen to stay is the little foal the rangers rescued the day before. Early in the morning and under a blazing sun, word filters through the group that after a night of sleep and medicine, the foal is standing up and walking around. As soon as the men clock off, they drive into town to see the animal, give it a pat and joke among one another about what they’ll name it. Within a few days, the little foal is released back into the national park.

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Over the ensuing weeks, the rangers grew concerned after not spotting the foal. But after a few more days, it was seen walking around with its mother on the beach.

“We are really happy that our team was able to give him a second chance,” Aitken says.