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Emu Oil Research Industry
History (Story of the first emu rancher in the world) Ready for Take Off Story
by Sorrel Wilby Western Australian emu farmer Stephen Birkbeck has been a driving force in an industry no one thought would get off the ground. The drumming sound was disconcerting, yet intriguing; it was deep in tone, resonant in texture and undeniably provocative; and it seemed to be coming from a secluded pocket of karri and jarrah trees just up-country from the tranquil Kent River. The beat was definitely tribal, possibly primal: growing louder and faster as I advanced towards it. God forbid that I chance on a weekend retreat of dysfunctional fathers and sons experimenting with some New Age bonding technique. Or worse still, a religious cult, locked in a rhythmic trance with the devil . . . I continued on, my heart pounding. It takes a lot to startle someone like me, but I admit it, I was shocked. Behold, the source of the din: one grown man and 20-something flightless birds; the latter signaling love with a "drumming" of their chests, the former imitating the sound by gulping air. I was completely miffed; but then so were the emus. After all, it's not everyday they get to share their ardor with an intelligent, otherwise articulate, bloke in a hot pink shirt and track pants. Thus was my introduction to Mount Romance, a 180-hectare emu farm in a valley halfway between Denmark and Walpole in south Western Australia. So too, my first meeting with Stephen Birkbeck, the longest serving full-time emu farmer in the world. Birkbeck's affair with the feathered half of our national coat of arms began 15 years ago in Wiluna, on the edge of the Gibson Desert. He was new to the area (a blow-in from the city); and a student of philosophy from the University of Western Australia-turned bartender. For all its isolation, Wiluna was a place on the up and up. With Federal Government support, the local Aboriginal people, the Ngangganawili tribe, had established an emu farm, and economic independence was very much the talk of the town. Everyone was interested in emus, and Birkbeck was soon caught up in the community dream. Initially his interests were purely artistic; he became proficient at carving on the thick, dark green egg shell and moved back to Perth to pursue the craft. "In 1981, the Federal Government decided the Wiluna farm was a failure and cut funding to it before a single skin or kilo of meat had been processed," he said. He led me into his office and showed me a cartoon clipped from a newspaper of the day which summed up his feelings about that turnaround. In the cartoon there is a man doubled over with his bottom in the air, and two emus standing in bemused conversation. The first was saying: "Say, I thought only ostriches buried their heads in the sand!!" The second replied: "Obviously, this is your first encounter with a federal minister!!" By 1984, Birkbeck had taken over the management of the Wiluna emu farm. He ignored directives received from the then Department of Aboriginal Affairs to wind down operations even further. He refused to share the Government's vision of an eggshell-carving cottage industry and set about to follow the original dream, developing a viable technology for the the potentially lucrative processing of emu skin. "No one had figured out a way to successfully tan the hide of an emu, and that was what was really preventing the industry from taking off, but in three months we'd broken the back of the leather-tanning technique and by 1986, we'd put together our first A$30,000 collection of clothing." The following year Birkbeck and his wife, Karen, were instrumental in putting Wiluna - not to mention emus - on the world map. Taking advantage of all the international publicity surrounding the America's Cup challenge, they staged a fashion parade in Fremantle. Within weeks they had sold half a million dollars worth of garments that incorporated the Ngangganawili's exotic emu leather. Local pastoralists pricked up their ears, and started buying Wiluna-raised chicks for A$380 each. Overseas, immediate and massive investment was made in the United States, Canada, France and New Zealand. They were heady days in WA, and the Birkbecks - for all the interest and success they had generated - soon tired of the politicking synonymous with the creation of any new industry in Australia. "There were so many hidden charters; I was sacked and reinstated three times as manager. My allegiance went from being in Aboriginal Affairs (the department) to being with the emus." In the latter stages of 1987 Stephen Birkbeck worked as a consultant, assisting in drafting legislation to open up the emu industry. "Things were happening," Birkbeck said, "but I got fed up with all the bureaucracy. It took too long to do anything, so I quit. I came to Denmark. I wanted to farm cows and surf and never see another emu as long as I lived." The hiatus was brief; by 1989 there were several dozen feathered birds running around in the top paddock at Mount Romance and by 1990 the Birkbecks were back in the emu business. During the course of Stephen's close association with Wiluna and the Ngangganawili people, he became aware of the healing qualities Aborigines attributed to emu oil; for thousands of years it has been used to treat arthritic pain, inflamed joints, muscular aches and burns. With assistance from a herbalist and microbiologist, the Birkbecks began experimenting. "All we started with was a couple of base formulations, an old kitchen table and a hot plate," he says. Before long, they had attracted a French partner, secured the investment needed to get serious about product research, built a factory and showroom, and launched the world's first emu oil based cosmetic and therapeutic range. By 1994 the products were selling in Paris. Not content with pulling off the ultimate "selling coal to Newcastle" marking coup, the Birkbecks followed their success in France with value-added exports to Singapore, New Zealand, Malaysia, Indonesia, Hong Kong and, more recently, China. In Australia today (1996) there are an estimated 1400 emu farms: 6500 in North America: a dozen in China: and another 50 small emu studs scattered across the globe. Without exception, all the overseas properties have obtained their initial breeding stock from zoo offspring. With the help of sophisticated incubating machines, a single breeding pair can produce 15 to 20 chicks a year. In Australia, regulations prevent open exploitation of wild populations. It is legal to take emus from the wild for initial breeding stock, but these birds must not be used for production purposes and farms thereafter must be self-sustaining. Currently just about every part of the emu is salable. The Birkbecks have chosen to specialise in emu oil products (as have 30 big American competitors), but other farmers are actively pursuing different markets. While in WA, I visited the Cyprus emu farm at Byford and caught up with its marketing manager, Graeme Ison,"I've got 400 long-legged girlfriends". "There are only about nine companies in Australia that are currently killing birds to obtain product," Ison said. "Most of our emu farms are still establishing breeding programs and building up their flocks." Cyprus sells a range of leather garments and accessories to Italy, France, Great Britain, America, Canada, Hong Kong, Japan and Singapore. They wholesale emu meat and salami direct to distributors overseas. "The guys that make fertiliser make good use of the bones and there's a bloke experimenting with the feathers so that they can be used as household insulation." So it seems the emu is far more than a flightless fancy. From The Australian Way, January 1996
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