That the decision on the dam now lies with the federal minister is partly due to the work of Gros. A young mathematician at Grenoble University, he found himself being pushed towards a career in finance. Instead, he turned his skills in different directions: first, improving interpretation of medical data, then measuring biodiversity in threatened ecosystems.

In the chilly, sodden winter of 2021, he camped out in this rainforest, monitoring acoustic recorders that detected the calls of the endangered Tasmanian masked owl. This powerful raptor is endemic to Tasmania. Because of habitat destruction, fewer than 500 breeding pairs remain.

A secretive nester and nocturnal hunter, the bird’s habits remain poorly understood. Until Gros’ research located likely nesting sites that allowed photographer Rob Blakers to capture their images on film, the mining company’s hired scientists had asserted that the masked owl did not nest in rainforests. In fact, the hollowed trunks of vast old-growth trees like the myrtles are exactly the roomy quarters these huge owls require.

Gros wouldn’t have had time to complete his research if the dam site hadn’t been occupied and at times blockaded by protesters organised by the Bob Brown Foundation. Now that work is halted pending the minister’s decision, their campsite in the forest characterises itself as an “embassy”.

The road into the proposed dam site, just north of the west coast town of Tullah, is signposted as a “Forest Walk” by Forestry Tasmania. The activists camped there gladly take anyone who turns up on guided rambles through cathedral-like stands of blackwood, laurel, sassafras, leatherwood and towering ancient tree ferns.

As well as charismatic species such as fairy wrens, quolls and Tassie devils, the forest is home to myriad rarities such as a crayfish species that excavates underground water channels, in the process erecting elaborate, crenellated castles of mud. There’s also the tallest species of moss in the world. Last year, an entomologist identified six possibly new-to-science species of moths in a single day.

I don’t know whom you might expect to find at a forest blockade site, but my stereotypes were overturned by the people with whom I shared a cup of tea, prepared at their tidy camp. They included a university lecturer, an exploration geologist and a plumber.

It’s a pity that Plibersek didn’t have a chance to meet these caring people and experience the majestic forest whose fate lies in her hands. But on a trip to the area, when she met with mining company representatives, she declined an invitation from Bob Brown to go with him into the forest.

A spokeswoman says she was advised by park rangers that the road was blockaded and entry would be too dangerous for her and her staff.

The day before my visit, the camp’s 39-year-old co-ordinator, Jenna Harris, had guided a mum named Stacey and her three kids, aged seven, five and three, on a forest walk.

“They wanted to see fairies,” she said. “I explained that fairies are elusive and didn’t really like to be seen, but we walked to Grandmother Myrtle [an ancient tree on which a scientist/musician has placed electrodes which amplify the tree’s frequency and produce musical tones].

Loading

“We sat quietly and closed our eyes.” At the end, the consensus was that fairies had indeed appeared.

Too bad Plibersek missed it. But she can still make a decision that preserves the forest’s magic for these kids, and all the children of our future.

Geraldine Brooks is a Pulitzer Prize-winning author and journalist.

Get a weekly wrap of views that will challenge, champion and inform your own. Sign up for our Opinion newsletter.