Imagine waking up every day to find your home under siege—not by an army, but by an ever-growing horde of rabbits. This is the stark reality for residents of Phillip Island, where rabbit populations have skyrocketed to what locals can only describe as plague proportions. But here’s where it gets even more alarming: these aren’t just harmless creatures hopping around; they’re burrowing under foundations, decimating gardens, and turning once-idyllic landscapes into war zones. And this is the part most people miss—the crisis isn’t just about damaged property; it’s about an ecological domino effect that threatens the very fabric of this coastal paradise.
Every morning, Peter Bradley and his wife, Vicki, step outside their home to survey the latest battlefield. Rabbits have been relentlessly trying to burrow beneath their house, forcing Peter into a daily ritual of sweeping up displaced mulch, repairing wire, and filling holes. ‘Everyone’s on edge about it,’ Peter admits. ‘Fix the damage today, and they’re back at it tomorrow. Ignore it, and the problem only worsens.’ Their struggle is far from unique—it’s a grim routine shared across this picturesque region southeast of Melbourne, where rabbit numbers have exploded beyond control.
Harold Jackson, a 27-year resident of Phillip Island, shakes his head in disbelief. ‘This is the worst I’ve ever seen it,’ he says. His garden in Cowes, the island’s main township, has suffered nearly $20,000 in damage. ‘It’s relentless,’ he adds. ‘They dig holes, uproot my roses, and destroy everything in their path.’
Last month, the Bass Coast Shire Council took a bold step, unanimously voting to develop a new eradication plan. Why? Because 15 years and $180,000 spent on professional rabbit control have failed spectacularly. But here’s the controversial part: could a seemingly harmless virus be the reason behind this rabbit boom? Dr. Brian Cooke, a rabbit expert with nearly 60 years of experience, believes so. He points to RCV-A1, a benign virus that may be shielding rabbits from Australia’s primary biological weapon—calicivirus. ‘This virus is widespread in coastal areas,’ Cooke explains. ‘It provides cross-immunity, making rabbits resistant to the deadly rabbit haemorrhagic disease virus (RHDV) we’ve relied on since 1995.’
Dr. Tanja Strive, a senior CSIRO research scientist, backs this theory. ‘Lab tests show that rabbits infected with RCV-A1 gain some protection against calicivirus,’ she says. ‘It’s no coincidence that coastal areas, with their year-round green grass and breeding conditions, have seen less effective control.’ The Bass Coast’s unique blend of natural conditions and suburban development creates what Strive calls an ‘upward spiral’ for rabbit immunity. ‘Higher rainfall, irrigation, and dense populations all contribute to the spread of this benign virus, making rabbits even more immune,’ she adds.
For Carola Adolf, a 35-year resident of Bass, the rabbit explosion has turned daily life into a minefield. While mowing her property, her ride-on mower plummeted into a hidden rabbit hole, causing her to bite her tongue and bleed heavily. Her once-thriving horse riding instruction business is now a hazard zone. ‘My horses are at constant risk of breaking their legs from these burrows,’ she says, gesturing to the holes surrounding her shed. At night, the roads are alive with hundreds of rabbits crossing, creating a scene that’s both eerie and dangerous. ‘They undermine everything—fences, tree roots, you name it,’ Carola laments.
Tackling this crisis requires cross-government coordination, but so far, efforts have fallen short. ‘We’re desperate for new ideas,’ says Councillor Mat Morgan, who seconded the motion for a new eradication plan. ‘Local government can’t do this alone. We’re dealing with multiple land managers, from DEECA controlling beaches to Phillip Island Nature Parks managing environmental assets. It’s a bureaucratic maze.’ The 27-year-old councillor has spent the past year watching government departments ‘reinvent the wheel’ instead of collaborating.
Jack Harris, coordinator of the Bass Coast Landcare Network’s rabbit project, highlights another challenge: inconsistent rabbit management among landholders. ‘Some do a great job, while others do nothing,’ he explains. ‘This creates a patchwork of properties, some rabbit-free and others overrun. It’s a never-ending battle.’ Community resistance to strategies like baiting adds another layer of complexity. ‘People worry about their pets getting poisoned,’ Cooke notes. Meanwhile, efforts to protect endangered eastern barred bandicoots, reintroduced to Phillip Island, further complicate control measures. Baiting is off-limits in areas where bandicoots are present.
But here’s the bigger picture: a booming rabbit population isn’t just a local nuisance; it’s an ecological disaster. Rabbits support high numbers of feral predators like foxes and cats, which prey on native fauna. They also wreak havoc on native plants. Morgan argues that the invasive pests are tarnishing the region’s green credentials. ‘Bass Coast and Phillip Island could be a haven for endangered wildlife,’ he says. ‘By controlling rabbit populations, we can enhance biodiversity and create an extraordinary opportunity for conservation.’
For now, the council is tasked with producing a report on eradication options. Cooke warns that Australia has lost institutional knowledge about rabbit control, as decades of successful biological measures have left younger generations unaware of the problem’s scale. ‘People are starting to realize that rabbits aren’t cute Beatrix Potter characters—they’re a major threat,’ he says. The time to act is now. ‘Waiting five years will only double the problem and the cost,’ Cooke urges.
So, what do you think? Is this rabbit crisis a local issue or a national emergency? Should controversial methods like baiting be prioritized, or are there better, more humane solutions? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation that could shape the future of Phillip Island and beyond.
