Within an easy hop of Canberra Airport, the furry ferals live and forage just metres away from high octane exercises ranging from controlled explosives burns to carefully stage-managed detonations and blasts.

They wisely choose to keep their heads down when defence, federal police and other security services come on to their patch to conduct field exercises and training.

The field firing range site was originally part of the Campbell family's ''Duntroon Station''. It was designated a military training area in 1911, the same year the Royal Military College was founded, currently covers 3649 hectares and stretches for kilometres along Majura Road.

A casual observer driving from Gungahlin to the airport would probably conclude it was a good sheep paddock that hadn't yet been ruined. Undulating hills, open grassland and some impressive stands of gums all contribute to an image of bucolic tranquillity a world away from violence and war.

In reality the Majura range is anything but. If you drive in from the airport end your eye is drawn to what appear to be some serious bomb craters that presumably date back to World War II. The sound of sporadic small arms fire can often be heard from the ADF shooting range to the north. The landscape is dotted with surreal structures, some of besser block, others of colourbond and some of 25 millimetre thick steel plate.

One piece of infrastructure, the five-panel World War II era Bailey Bridge across a shallow creek, seems worthy of a heritage listing. Only a few of these structures would still be in daily use anywhere, one suspects. The fact this is used regularly and will carry fully laden coaches and trucks is proof of the integrity of Donald Bailey's original design.

While every effort is made to clean up after demonstrations and exercises, visitors are warned to be careful where they walk. Kicking the ground or picking things up is an absolute no-no. On one visit I spotted several cartridge cases, dozens of fragments from expended training munitions and some surprisingly complete 40 millimetre practice rounds that had been fired from grenade launchers.

On that occasion our defence minder, who was designated to ensure he knew where all the media were at all times (a job a bit like herding cats), took safety very seriously. In addition to cautioning about the man-made hazards and warning the removal of any fragments or ordinance from the range was verboten, he said spiders and snakes also posed a danger.

''Snakes are probably not a risk today in cooler weather but the spiders are always here,'' he said. ''There is a high probability of unexploded ordinance being present. Watch where you step. Do not kick, touch or pick up anything.''

Visitors are also warned kangaroos and wombats should not be harmed or interfered with in any way. A cynic might suggest this concern for Skippy's occupational health and safety is strangely at odds with Defence's aborted attempt to kill 6000 of the 9000 kangaroos at the range back in 2009. Whatever. Despite having made three separate visits to the range, one as recently as last Friday, I have yet to see a single marsupial.

Defence personnel regard Majura as an amazing resource, saying it was remarkable to have a site where it was possible to conduct controlled explosions and detonations within a cab ride of a major capital. This, and the close proximity of the federal police small arms firing range which was rebuilt off Majura Road after the 2003 bushfires, means training and education exercises are relatively easy to organise.

The fear is that encroaching urban sprawl may eventually put paid to the site's usability. Restrictions on detonations while aircraft are flying overhead are already having an impact. On some days, when the wind direction keeps planes away to the west, there is not a problem. On others, when planes are taking off across the range, there is.