In less than a decade, Australia's national science agency has grown its drone fleet sixfold, quietly transforming how researchers observe the living world — from koalas sheltering in forest canopies to cotton plants competing for survival in summer heat. What was once niche equipment has become essential infrastructure, not because the aircraft themselves changed dramatically, but because the sensors, software, and human expertise surrounding them matured. CSIRO's expansion reflects a broader truth: the tools we build to understand nature tend to reshape the questions we are able to ask of it
CSIRO's Drone Fleet Transforms Environmental Research Across Australia
We have just scratched the surface.
So CSIRO went from almost no drones to 160 in six years. What actually changed to make that possible?
The hardware got cheaper and more reliable, but the real shift was the sensors. Better cameras, thermal imaging, LiDAR that could actually work from the air. And the software to process what those sensors collect.
But we should be clear—the source says the drones themselves haven't changed much. It's the payload that matters. That's an important distinction.
Fair. So when Vanderduys uses thermal imaging to count koalas, how confident are we in those numbers?
The advantage is repeatability. You fly the same transect at the same height and resolution, so you can compare year to year. That's how you build a population model.
Right, but the source doesn't say how accurate the thermal method is compared to ground surveys. We know it sees more koalas than walking around, but we don't know if it's seeing all of them.
What about the LiDAR work with rare trees? That sounds incredibly precise.
It is. Over 1,000 points per square meter. You can measure individual tree height, crown diameter, stem diameter. And it's fast—100 hectares in 30 minutes instead of three hours per hectare.
The speed is real. But the source doesn't give us numbers on how many rare trees Levick has actually counted or what that's meant for conservation decisions yet. It's promising, not proven.
And coastal work—Branson's studying waves and currents. That seems harder to measure from a drone.
It is. He's limited by wind, and drones can't give you the broad scale of a satellite. But they can be deployed on demand, over hours or a day, targeting specific processes satellites can't see.
The source is honest about the constraints. Wind around 10 knots is the sweet spot. Too much and the drone is uncontrollable. That's a real operational limit.
What about the cotton breeding? That feels like the most mature application.
It probably is. They're using multispectral and hyperspectral cameras to measure how individual plants respond to their environment. That data helps identify which breeding lines have the traits they want.
But again, the source doesn't tell us whether this has actually improved breeding outcomes yet. It's a tool in the kit, and it sounds promising, but we don't have results.
So we're still early.
Very early. Meys herself says they've just scratched the surface. The technology is expanding faster than the applications are being fully proven.
Which is fine to report. But it's important to hold that line between what drones can do and what they've actually accomplished.
Le Pouls
- A fleet of 160 drones now serves Australia's peak science body, a sixfold increase since 2020 that signals how urgently researchers need eyes in places humans cannot easily reach.
- Thermal cameras are cutting through the difficulty of counting koalas in dense canopy, replacing unreliable ground surveys with repeatable aerial transects that can track population change across decades.
- LiDAR sensors have compressed what once took three hours per hectare into 30 minutes per 100 hectares, unlocking precise tree-by-tree mapping of rare species and feeding calibration data to international satellite missions.
- Coastal scientists are racing against wind windows of around 10 knots — narrow enough to keep drones airborne, strong enough to generate the currents and wave patterns worth studying.
- In cotton breeding, multispectral and hyperspectral drone imagery is helping researchers separate genetic potential from environmental noise, accelerating the identification of commercially valuable plant lines.
- The chief remote pilot overseeing it all came to the role with no drone experience — a reminder that the field is growing faster than any single background can fully anticipate.
In less than a decade, Australia's national science agency has grown its drone fleet sixfold, quietly transforming how researchers observe the living world — from koalas sheltering in forest canopies to cotton plants competing for survival in summer heat. What was once niche equipment has become essential infrastructure, not because the aircraft themselves changed dramatically, but because the sensors, software, and human expertise surrounding them matured. CSIRO's expansion reflects a broader truth: the tools we build to understand nature tend to reshape the questions we are able to ask of it.
Amanda Meys has never piloted a conventional aircraft, yet she oversees nearly 100 remote pilots at CSIRO, Australia's national science agency. When she arrived in 2019 with a background in avionics, the drone fleet numbered around 25 to 30 units. Today it stands at 160. The growth tracks a national trend — licensed remote pilots in Australia have risen from 3,300 in 2016 to roughly 45,000 today. What has driven the transformation is less the aircraft themselves than what they carry: sensors, cameras, and software that have advanced dramatically in a short time.
In eastern Australia's forests, thermal imaging drones are changing how scientists count koalas — animals notoriously difficult to locate from the ground. Field ecologist Eric Vanderduys had long used acoustic recorders to detect the presence of males, but sound cannot give you numbers. Drones flying above the canopy on overcast days, when a koala's body heat stands out against cool vegetation, reveal what ground surveys miss entirely. The flights follow repeatable transects, meaning the same route can be flown years later at identical height and resolution — a foundation for tracking population change with scientific precision.
Farther inland, senior research scientist Shaun Levick uses LiDAR-equipped drones to map landscapes that once required expensive light aircraft or exhausting fieldwork. A sensor introduced around 2021 now captures over 1,000 points per square meter, enabling measurement of individual tree height, crown diameter, and stem diameter. What once took three hours to map one hectare now takes 30 minutes to cover 100. Levick has used this to estimate populations of rare species in remote national parks and to generate biomass and carbon data that feeds into international satellite calibration programs.
On the coast, researcher Paul Branson studies how currents and waves shape ecosystems — work that depends on wind, the same force that limits how long drones can fly. Around 10 knots is his optimal window. Cameras sensitive to multiple wavelengths allow his team to observe seafloor features, algal blooms, and coastal erosion at a scale and on-demand flexibility that satellites cannot match.
In agriculture, CSIRO cotton researchers have built their own internal pilot team, equipping drones with multispectral and hyperspectral cameras to measure how individual plants perform across different environments. The goal is to separate genetic potential from environmental influence — helping breeding programs identify commercially valuable traits faster and with greater accuracy.
Meys watches all of it and says the agency has barely scratched the surface. The applications keep expanding, and the infrastructure that once served a handful of researchers now underpins some of Australia's most consequential environmental and agricultural science.
Amanda Meys has never piloted a plane, yet she oversees nearly 100 remote pilots across Australia's national science agency. Her title is chief remote pilot at CSIRO, and the aircraft under her command are not conventional—they are drones, a fleet that has grown from 25 to 30 units in 2020 to around 160 today. The expansion mirrors a broader shift in how Australia's research community works. Civil Aviation Safety Authority records show the number of licensed remote pilots has climbed from 3,300 in 2016 to 16,500 by 2020, and now sits near 45,000, not counting recreational users. In less than a decade, drones have become ordinary tools for environmental science.
Meys came to the role in 2019 with no drone experience but a background as an avionics technician, maintaining aircraft electrical and radar systems. She now manages fleet operations, trains certified pilots, ensures regulatory compliance, and approves flight plans. The drones themselves range from 2 kilograms to over 100 kilograms and can operate at night. What has transformed the technology is not the aircraft but what they carry—the software, cameras, and sensors have advanced dramatically. "The drones themselves haven't changed much, but the software and the technology and the camera systems have certainly advanced," Meys says. For her, aviation has been a lifelong passion, and watching the field grow has been its own reward.
In the forests of eastern Australia, thermal imaging drones are changing how scientists count koalas. The animals are notoriously difficult to locate from the ground. Researchers like CSIRO field ecologist Eric Vanderduys rely on acoustic recorders to detect the bellowing of males along the coast from Victoria through Queensland, but sound tells you presence, not numbers. When his team began using drones in 2022, two advantages emerged immediately. Drones can fly above the canopy where humans cannot reach, and equipped with thermal cameras, they detect heat signatures invisible to the naked eye. On overcast days or after rain, when a koala's body warmth stands out against cool vegetation, the thermal image reveals what ground surveys miss. The drones fly in straight lines called transects, like a lawn mower cutting a field, which means the same route can be repeated years later at identical height and resolution. In ten years, scientists can compare the same transect and track population changes with precision. This repeatability is how population models inform species protection decisions.
Farther inland, LiDAR technology is reshaping how researchers map vast landscapes. Dr. Shaun Levick, a senior principal research scientist, once trudged through remote terrain with heavy equipment or contracted expensive light aircraft. Now he deploys drones equipped with LiDAR sensors—Light Detection and Ranging systems that use rapid laser pulses to create three-dimensional maps. The breakthrough came around 2021 with the introduction of the Riegl VUX-120 sensor, which delivered ground-quality measurements from the air. What once took three hours to map one hectare now takes 30 minutes to cover 100 hectares. The sensor captures over 1,000 points per square meter, allowing measurement of individual tree height, crown diameter, and stem diameter. Levick has used this precision to estimate populations of rare species like red cabbage palms in Palm Valley within Finke Gorge National Park and Acacia Peuce, one of Australia's slowest-growing trees, in the Matt Clark Conservation Area. The data also enables biomass and carbon estimates, with applications in carbon accounting. In a single fieldtrip, researchers can collect data from up to 1,000 hectares, which then trains satellite-based imagery models and provides ground calibration for NASA-ISRO's NISAR mission and the European Space Agency's BIOMASS mission.
Coastal research presents different challenges. Dr. Paul Branson, a coastal research scientist in Western Australia, studies oceanography to understand how currents and waves shape coastal ecosystems. Drones have limited flight time, and wind is the limiting factor—the smaller the drone, the less wind it tolerates. Branson needs wind because it drives the currents and wave motions he studies, but too much wind makes drones uncontrollable. Around 10 knots is the optimal window. Equipped with cameras sensitive to different wavelengths of light, drones can observe wave signatures and seafloor features that satellites cannot target on demand. They can monitor disturbances from dredging projects, harmful algal blooms, and geomorphological features that erode over decades. The ocean is never static, and coastlines evolve across multiple time scales, making planning decisions difficult without this kind of detailed, deployable observation.
In agriculture, drones have already become standard equipment. CSIRO cotton researchers use them for crop management, applying herbicides and pesticides to specific areas and reducing the need for workers in chemical suits during summer growing seasons. Dr. Warren Conaty's team initially contracted drone services but quickly recognized the potential of collecting multiple data streams simultaneously. They built an internal pilot team and equipped drones with multispectral cameras that capture a wider range of wavelengths than human eyes can see. These signatures characterize the environment and measure the performance of individual cotton lines. In a breeding program, what you observe in a plant—its phenotype—results from both its genetics and its environment. By capturing how the environment interacts with each plant through multispectral signatures, researchers can improve the accuracy of algorithms that identify superior breeding lines. The team also uses hyperspectral imagery to identify disease pressure and genetic resistance sources, and LiDAR cameras to measure growth characteristics early and late in the season. The goal is finer-scale resolution on how plants grow in relation to their environment, enabling better identification of breeding lines with commercially valuable traits.
Meys reflects on the growth she has witnessed. When she started, only a handful of people worked with drones at CSIRO. Now the applications span wildlife monitoring, biodiversity mapping, coastal modeling, and crop improvement. "We have just scratched the surface," she says. The technology continues to mature, and as sensors and software capabilities advance, new uses will emerge. What began as a niche tool has become essential infrastructure for understanding and managing Australia's environment and agriculture.
Citations marquantes
The drones themselves haven't changed much, but the software and the technology and the camera systems have certainly advanced.— Amanda Meys, CSIRO chief remote pilot
In 10 years' time we can repeat that from A to B, at the same height, same resolution, and compare numbers.— Eric Vanderduys, CSIRO field ecologist, on repeatable drone transects for koala monitoring