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As your plane approaches or departs Dublin Airport in County Dublin, Ireland, you might catch a glimpse of two intriguing islands. One is Ireland’s Eye, shrouded in mist and steeped in dark tales—like the 1852 murder conviction of artist William Kirwan, who killed his wife during a trip there. The other is Lambay Island, a lush, rocky expanse spanning 650 acres, once a haven for Vikings and pirates during their raids.
What truly distinguishes Lambay Island, though, requires a closer look—and a bit of luck. Here, 100 to 140 red-necked wallabies hop across the landscape, mingling with cattle and deer as they graze. These Australian natives, far from their homeland, have sparked fascination and questions for years. Who introduced them? And what if their numbers grow too large for this tiny island, located over 9000 miles from Australia?
A bird's-eye view of Lambay Island. Wikimedia Commons
In April 1904, banker Cecil Baring stumbled upon an intriguing classified ad in Ireland’s Field newspaper. The ad, titled “Island for Sale,” highlighted Lambay, a property previously owned by the Talbot family for much of the 1800s and named after the Norse term for “lamb.”
Baring purchased Lambay for between £5250 and £9000 (equivalent to $700,000 to $1,200,000 today), ensuring it remained a Baring family heirloom. He hired architect Edward Lutyens to restore the island’s dilapidated castle, which later became a sanctuary for his son, Rupert. Rupert gained notoriety in 1935 when his fiancé, Angela, sued him
During the 1950s, the Barings considered turning Lambay into a zoo. They imported wallabies, tortoises, and lizards, though the exact numbers and survival rates remain unclear. Rupert, fondly known as "Boodles," developed a particular affection for the wallabies. In the 1980s, when the Dublin Zoo faced an overpopulation of wallabies, the Barings accepted seven of them to live on Lambay.
After Rupert’s death in 1994, the wallabies continued to thrive. His son, James, a pilot and owner of London’s Regent Sound Studio—frequented by the Beatles and the Rolling Stones—inherited the island. Once, curious kayakers landed on Lambay and encountered James, confirming the rumors about the wallabies.
James Baring passed away in 2012, leaving the island to the Lambay Estate Company and his son, Alex. Alex, who resides there part-time, aims to develop the island into a luxury tourist destination. (Alex did not respond to requests for comment on this article.)
The presence of red-necked wallabies roaming freely is undoubtedly a unique draw. But how do these Australian natives adapt to the Irish terrain, so different from their homeland?
“They’re remarkably adaptable,” says Kevin Drees, a director of animal care at Blank Park Zoo and a wallaby specialist, in an interview with mental_floss. Their ability to grow thick fur allows them to handle colder climates better than kangaroos, which explains their popularity in zoos worldwide.
Lambay Island isn’t as alien to wallabies as one might think. (They’ve also thrived on Inchconnachan in Loch Lomond, Scotland, for over six decades, introduced by a wealthy resident in the 1940s.) Despite sharing the land with puffins and cattle—a mix Drees describes as “unnatural”—they have ample grass to graze and plenty of space to hop away when their natural shyness takes over. Gentle by nature, they’re unlikely to exhibit the aggressive behavior of boxing kangaroos, though they may become uneasy if dogs are present.
“They’re incredibly resourceful,” Michael Bermingham, a business associate of the Baring family who has visited the island multiple times, tells mental_floss. “They’ll climb onto rocks where humans can’t reach them.”
While the Barings permit boat and walking tours, access is strictly by invitation, ensuring the island remains largely undisturbed. Only the Barings, a handful of farmworkers, and a vet spend significant time there. “The animals play a crucial role in maintaining the land through grazing,” Bermingham explains. Although wallabies are capable swimmers, the three-mile distance to the mainland makes it nearly impossible for them to reach the coast.
According to Drees, the primary challenges are twofold. Wallabies breed rapidly, which could lead to overpopulation. (Their offspring, called joeys, can nurse from their mother while a fertilized egg remains dormant until the right moment to develop and occupy the pouch.) Additionally, since the population originates from a limited number of non-native ancestors, inbreeding poses a significant risk.
“Inbreeding can result in health complications, such as heart defects,” he explains. “Introducing new wallabies would be necessary to prevent this issue.”
Currently, the wallabies on Lambay Island seem to be flourishing. The Barings are managing their population by collaborating with Bermingham, who has an exclusive arrangement to take a portion of the wallabies for his own use.
“I enjoy preparing wallaby slider burgers,” he mentions.
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Bermingham co-owns M&K Meats, a thriving meat supplier based in Rathcoole, specializing in organic, farm-to-table premium meats distributed to high-end clients across Ireland and the UK. Three years ago, he began offering wallaby meat sourced exclusively from Lambay Island.
“It’s incredibly lean and packed with protein,” he explains. “I’m not sure if it’s the grass they eat or the island’s herbs, but the flavor is truly unique.”
Wallaby steak, he acknowledges, “won’t appeal to everyone.” However, curiosity about the meat is growing. “When people hear about wallaby meat in Ireland, they’re often surprised. Some are fascinated, while others are indifferent.”
M&K Meats is purchasing enough wallaby meat to help manage the population. The culling process occurs on the island, with hunters using rifles. Bermingham notes that the wallabies’ skittish nature makes capturing them challenging. “Last time, it took a hunter three days to catch just four.”
In addition to wallabies, Bermingham also hunts rabbit and deer on the island, while cattle and lamb are raised as livestock. Thanks to the island’s isolation, the meat remains free from the diseases often found in mainland farming.
It remains unclear whether Baring’s tourism plans will feature an opportunity to dine on wallaby meat directly on the island. However, the wallabies may no longer be seen as invasive but rather as a vital component of Lambay’s distinctive ecosystem.
“From a natural perspective, the wallaby doesn’t belong,” Drees remarks. “But if the focus is on the island’s history, their presence might hold significance. It could serve as an interesting case study in how humans shape habitats.”
