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Fire Country: How Indigenous Fire Management Could Help Save Australia
Delving deep into the Australian landscape and the environmental challenges we face, Fire Country is a powerful account from Indigenous land management expert Victor Steffensen on how the revival of cultural burning practices, and improved 'reading' of country, could help to restore our land. From a young age, Victor has had a passion for traditional cultural and ecological knowledge. This was further developed after meeting two Elders, who were to become his mentors and teach him the importance of cultural burning. Developed over many generations, this knowledge shows clearly that Australia actually needs fire. Moreover, fire is an important part of a holistic approach to the environment, and when burning is done in a carefully considered manner, this ensures proper land care and healing.
Victor's story is unassuming and honest, while demonstrating the incredibly sophisticated and complex cultural knowledge that has been passed down to him, which he wants to share with others. As global warming sees more parts of our planet burning, this book emphasises the value of Indigenous knowledge systems. There is much evidence that, if adopted, it could greatly benefit the land here in Australia and around the world.
Victor's story is unassuming and honest, while demonstrating the incredibly sophisticated and complex cultural knowledge that has been passed down to him, which he wants to share with others. As global warming sees more parts of our planet burning, this book emphasises the value of Indigenous knowledge systems. There is much evidence that, if adopted, it could greatly benefit the land here in Australia and around the world.
221 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 18, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 95 reviews
September 30, 2025
Anybody got a match?
The few Aboriginal kids that were at my school "coloured" my opinion of Aborigines in general. In a negative way. I grew up without seeing any more until I met some Aboriginal forest rangers at Coconut Beach, near Cape Tribulation in the Daintree Rainforest of Far North Queensland. I was about 25. They changed my opinion of their race in just a few days. Aborigines have a natural affinity with the land, and each other. They have lived on this land for over 60,000 years and that's taught them how to look after the land so that it looks after them.
A big part of Aboriginal land-care involves burning it. How does that improve things, you might ask? Well, the Aborigines learned to burn at the right time so it was a "cool" burn and it cleared out all the dry grass and old wood to allow fresh growth to come through. It improved the health of the land immensely and also benefited the fauna too. Ever since Australia was colonised, white culture has undone almost all the good that the original inhabitants did. They were treated shockingly as was our great land. Unbelievably, it's only just in the last couple of decades that we've realise that, "Hey, these Aborigines must have known something that we didn't. Maybe we should listen to them."
My only criticism is, Steffensen seems to thing that burning the bush is the panacea to all of this country's problems. It isn't, but it helps...a lot.
Unfortunately, this book may fail in its educational aims as the final chapters make it clear that our country is stuffed. So why bother? It's too late. Or is it?
The few Aboriginal kids that were at my school "coloured" my opinion of Aborigines in general. In a negative way. I grew up without seeing any more until I met some Aboriginal forest rangers at Coconut Beach, near Cape Tribulation in the Daintree Rainforest of Far North Queensland. I was about 25. They changed my opinion of their race in just a few days. Aborigines have a natural affinity with the land, and each other. They have lived on this land for over 60,000 years and that's taught them how to look after the land so that it looks after them.
A big part of Aboriginal land-care involves burning it. How does that improve things, you might ask? Well, the Aborigines learned to burn at the right time so it was a "cool" burn and it cleared out all the dry grass and old wood to allow fresh growth to come through. It improved the health of the land immensely and also benefited the fauna too. Ever since Australia was colonised, white culture has undone almost all the good that the original inhabitants did. They were treated shockingly as was our great land. Unbelievably, it's only just in the last couple of decades that we've realise that, "Hey, these Aborigines must have known something that we didn't. Maybe we should listen to them."
My only criticism is, Steffensen seems to thing that burning the bush is the panacea to all of this country's problems. It isn't, but it helps...a lot.
Unfortunately, this book may fail in its educational aims as the final chapters make it clear that our country is stuffed. So why bother? It's too late. Or is it?
March 21, 2020
A timely and important book which blends the practice of Indigenous fire management, biographical story telling of how Steffensen's journey doing cultural burning, and social political aspects. It was interesting to learn how this knowledge was gained, and the importance of cultural burns vs say hazard reduction, and taking into account soils, animals, land. I especially enjoyed the chapters which went into detail about the land, and many terms I hadn't heard before, such as 'full blood country'.
Whilst an easy read with some great points, however I didn't find it as engaging or indepth as say Sand Talk or Greatest Estate on Earth, which were vibrant with ideas and analysis. Some of the language in this book was a little repetitive and surface level when referring to some of the beliefs within Aboriginal culture, and didn't probe to much into the richer dynamics. I would have liked to learn more about the practice of cultural burns in more detail, as well as the systems and lore behind it. I do get however this book is aimed for the general layperson, and Steffensen isn't an academic like Gammage, Pascoe or Yukaporta. I have actually found Steffensen much more engaging to listen to in person, and believe he could really create a space in some form of visual format demonstrating what he does and why he does it.
Taking on these ideas and practices for me are a no brainer for me.
Well worth the read.
Whilst an easy read with some great points, however I didn't find it as engaging or indepth as say Sand Talk or Greatest Estate on Earth, which were vibrant with ideas and analysis. Some of the language in this book was a little repetitive and surface level when referring to some of the beliefs within Aboriginal culture, and didn't probe to much into the richer dynamics. I would have liked to learn more about the practice of cultural burns in more detail, as well as the systems and lore behind it. I do get however this book is aimed for the general layperson, and Steffensen isn't an academic like Gammage, Pascoe or Yukaporta. I have actually found Steffensen much more engaging to listen to in person, and believe he could really create a space in some form of visual format demonstrating what he does and why he does it.
Taking on these ideas and practices for me are a no brainer for me.
Well worth the read.
December 7, 2020
Essential reading for all Australians. We really need to get behind Indigenous fire management and this is a great introduction to the why, where and how.
I've seen too much country myself deteriorate over the past 50 years and I've seen a lot of fires including 3 catastrophic firestorms, 2 from my own front door. We are still living on a time bomb with future Catastrophic fire events even after the devastation of the 2019-2020 fires season. We are still not doing the amount of healthy burns to protect us, our water supplies, our infrastructure, our property, our livestock and our wildlife. In other words, our entire environment is at risk and those risks should stop being under-estimated.
Read it.
I've seen too much country myself deteriorate over the past 50 years and I've seen a lot of fires including 3 catastrophic firestorms, 2 from my own front door. We are still living on a time bomb with future Catastrophic fire events even after the devastation of the 2019-2020 fires season. We are still not doing the amount of healthy burns to protect us, our water supplies, our infrastructure, our property, our livestock and our wildlife. In other words, our entire environment is at risk and those risks should stop being under-estimated.
Read it.
February 28, 2020
As our nation recovers from the trauma of our ‘Black Summer” of fires, many of us are looking to learn more about the threat of bushfire. In the extreme times of climate change we seek to manage the land in the face of megafires that can devastate over 16 million hectares, kill half a billion animals, take away 29 lives and obliterate 2,500 homes. It is clear to many that current fire and forest management strategies have failed to meet the challenge. However, stories have emerged of properties that miraculously escaped, seemingly protected by indigenous cultural burning methods. But what is this “cultural burning”, and how useful is it, really? Victor Steffensen’s "Fire Country" seeks not only to explore and explain, but to champion cultural burning as a superior method of land management.
"Fire Country" is not only a timely publication, it is a comprehensive guide to its subject, passionate and persuasive, wide in its scope and sure to be a classic. Victor Steffensen is a descendant of the Tagalaka people, and has spent decades as a consultant and mentor on traditional land management methods, especially traditional burning. Using storytelling as his mode, he places the fire knowledge and practice within culture and family, the book moving through these naturally. The knowledge is linked to the knowledge holder and to the land, and the land is knowledge itself, awaiting recognition. The author’s refusal to separate object and subject is telling of a broader theme here. Steffensen explains that the many landscapes and ecosystems are seen by Aboriginals as kinds of communities, dominated either by fullblood tree families or mixed-blood tree groups. Each community has a different flavour of interaction; flora, fauna and soil acting to change the other. This system is a complex interplay of the organic and inorganic, operating in different layers, influenced by, and influencing, rainfall and land health. Looking at the soil will tell you the tree family, and the tree family will tell you of the soil. They alter each other and sustain each other. Victor describes it as being ‘much like permaculture’, a whole systems way of thinking that utilises the inherent resilience of natural ecosystems to regenerate and enrich. Like permaculture, cultural burning has its core principles and ethics, is scientific (not mystical), and is about integration.
Fire management must work with the landscape. The burning (or decision to not burn) is prescribed by the community ecosystem, and its success is contingent on timing and knowledge of conditions. This knowledge is not scientific as we recognise it, and you’ll see no instruments to hand. Instead moisture levels are gauged by the hand on the grass stalk, the long stick in the soil, and the reaction of a crushed leaf. The actions of animals and insects are key indicators; from the emu breeding season to the ant nest’s texture. Blossoms of flowers are indicators. This is truly reading the landscape.
Land is burnt for hygienic reasons; to control weeds, and encourage the return of healthy bush foods and medicine. This is “cool burning”, where the flames are lower than knee height, the smoke white, thin and wispy. The fire spreads slowly in a circle allowing even the most unhurried fauna to escape. Canopy and tree trunks are protected, as the work involves only the understory. These burns aim to ‘reset the land’ as an act of service. Victor writes, “Burn country like you are gardening for food, and like you are living off the land to survive”. To this end, a mass of healthy bush tucker and medicines will prohibit a burn.
As the subtitle of "Fire Country" promises, fire management could save Australia, but Victor is not just talking of asset and land protection. He sees a wider cultural future for the nation in the knowledge being handed down (and embedded in everyday practice) for all of us. We must be reset to nature. This an opportunity, a way to reconcile and evolve the culture together, for all to learn and to live closer to the land. We must join and get back to country. He feels the people of Australia are ready to embrace this change, and I hope he is right.
Much of this book is defensively written; against the sceptics and racists and naysayers, the fearful property owners and the stubborn bureaucrats. There are those that see the land from a proprietorial view, and those that prefer to be custodians. Yet the author is optimistic and works with many RFS groups and pastoralists to reconcile the thinking, believing a wider dialogue is vital to ‘strengthening the knowledge’. Although not a manual to practice, this book is a definitive introduction, and sure to be a landmark in the literature of both indigenous culture and land management. Essential in the libraries of Aboriginal science and environmental theory, Fire Country is even more than that. Victor has written a heartfelt tribute to his Elders, and a paean to mentoring itself. The author’s friendship with the wise brothers of the Laura township is touching and lovingly observed and is the backbone of the story, telling of sharing and love. Knowledge sharing is the greatest of gifts and Victor values this. There is a plain-told elegance to his narrative, and he persuades without hectoring.
I suspect "Fire Country" is one of the most important books I’ve read in years, as I find it already informing and influencing my view of land and life. We must be in service of nature if we are to survive (not looking for mere property protection), and observation is key. There is so much more going on. That fire is used in the traditional smoking ceremony, the ‘welcome to country’, is telling of its value to Aboriginal Australia. As Victor says, “The fire is just the beginning of understanding the important journey ahead for us all”. This book will hold much interest for the fans of Bruce Pascoe’s Dark Emu, and deserves wide attention.
"Fire Country" is not only a timely publication, it is a comprehensive guide to its subject, passionate and persuasive, wide in its scope and sure to be a classic. Victor Steffensen is a descendant of the Tagalaka people, and has spent decades as a consultant and mentor on traditional land management methods, especially traditional burning. Using storytelling as his mode, he places the fire knowledge and practice within culture and family, the book moving through these naturally. The knowledge is linked to the knowledge holder and to the land, and the land is knowledge itself, awaiting recognition. The author’s refusal to separate object and subject is telling of a broader theme here. Steffensen explains that the many landscapes and ecosystems are seen by Aboriginals as kinds of communities, dominated either by fullblood tree families or mixed-blood tree groups. Each community has a different flavour of interaction; flora, fauna and soil acting to change the other. This system is a complex interplay of the organic and inorganic, operating in different layers, influenced by, and influencing, rainfall and land health. Looking at the soil will tell you the tree family, and the tree family will tell you of the soil. They alter each other and sustain each other. Victor describes it as being ‘much like permaculture’, a whole systems way of thinking that utilises the inherent resilience of natural ecosystems to regenerate and enrich. Like permaculture, cultural burning has its core principles and ethics, is scientific (not mystical), and is about integration.
Fire management must work with the landscape. The burning (or decision to not burn) is prescribed by the community ecosystem, and its success is contingent on timing and knowledge of conditions. This knowledge is not scientific as we recognise it, and you’ll see no instruments to hand. Instead moisture levels are gauged by the hand on the grass stalk, the long stick in the soil, and the reaction of a crushed leaf. The actions of animals and insects are key indicators; from the emu breeding season to the ant nest’s texture. Blossoms of flowers are indicators. This is truly reading the landscape.
Land is burnt for hygienic reasons; to control weeds, and encourage the return of healthy bush foods and medicine. This is “cool burning”, where the flames are lower than knee height, the smoke white, thin and wispy. The fire spreads slowly in a circle allowing even the most unhurried fauna to escape. Canopy and tree trunks are protected, as the work involves only the understory. These burns aim to ‘reset the land’ as an act of service. Victor writes, “Burn country like you are gardening for food, and like you are living off the land to survive”. To this end, a mass of healthy bush tucker and medicines will prohibit a burn.
As the subtitle of "Fire Country" promises, fire management could save Australia, but Victor is not just talking of asset and land protection. He sees a wider cultural future for the nation in the knowledge being handed down (and embedded in everyday practice) for all of us. We must be reset to nature. This an opportunity, a way to reconcile and evolve the culture together, for all to learn and to live closer to the land. We must join and get back to country. He feels the people of Australia are ready to embrace this change, and I hope he is right.
Much of this book is defensively written; against the sceptics and racists and naysayers, the fearful property owners and the stubborn bureaucrats. There are those that see the land from a proprietorial view, and those that prefer to be custodians. Yet the author is optimistic and works with many RFS groups and pastoralists to reconcile the thinking, believing a wider dialogue is vital to ‘strengthening the knowledge’. Although not a manual to practice, this book is a definitive introduction, and sure to be a landmark in the literature of both indigenous culture and land management. Essential in the libraries of Aboriginal science and environmental theory, Fire Country is even more than that. Victor has written a heartfelt tribute to his Elders, and a paean to mentoring itself. The author’s friendship with the wise brothers of the Laura township is touching and lovingly observed and is the backbone of the story, telling of sharing and love. Knowledge sharing is the greatest of gifts and Victor values this. There is a plain-told elegance to his narrative, and he persuades without hectoring.
I suspect "Fire Country" is one of the most important books I’ve read in years, as I find it already informing and influencing my view of land and life. We must be in service of nature if we are to survive (not looking for mere property protection), and observation is key. There is so much more going on. That fire is used in the traditional smoking ceremony, the ‘welcome to country’, is telling of its value to Aboriginal Australia. As Victor says, “The fire is just the beginning of understanding the important journey ahead for us all”. This book will hold much interest for the fans of Bruce Pascoe’s Dark Emu, and deserves wide attention.
May 23, 2020
Absolutely brilliant! Every bookshelf should have a copy of this book! My family has personal experience with bushfires, fire can be friend and foe, it's all in the natural land care management.
November 28, 2020
Trigger warnings: fire, death of a friend/loved one, colonialist attitudes, racism and bigotry towards Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, animal death.
4.5 stars.
This was FASCINATING. It was almost equal parts memoir and informative nonfiction, and I loved the way that Steffensen focused not only on the present but on how long the damage we do to the world today will take to heal. I took a photo of one particular page where Steffensen talks about how if you cut down a five hundred year tree, it'll be five hundred years before you have another five hundred year tree, regardless of how many saplings you plant in its place.
To quote directly: "We are leaving our future children with an accumulating debt of environmental mess. If we are serious about transforming to reach those goals, then we must start handing down good knowledge and practice to the future children."
It wasn't always the easiest book to read because on occasions, there would be an abundance of information about the ideal burning conditions for particular types of land that, like, I'm personally never going to use. But for the most part, it was absolutely fascinating and I'm very very glad I read it.
4.5 stars.
This was FASCINATING. It was almost equal parts memoir and informative nonfiction, and I loved the way that Steffensen focused not only on the present but on how long the damage we do to the world today will take to heal. I took a photo of one particular page where Steffensen talks about how if you cut down a five hundred year tree, it'll be five hundred years before you have another five hundred year tree, regardless of how many saplings you plant in its place.
To quote directly: "We are leaving our future children with an accumulating debt of environmental mess. If we are serious about transforming to reach those goals, then we must start handing down good knowledge and practice to the future children."
It wasn't always the easiest book to read because on occasions, there would be an abundance of information about the ideal burning conditions for particular types of land that, like, I'm personally never going to use. But for the most part, it was absolutely fascinating and I'm very very glad I read it.
January 27, 2026
A compelling, knowledgeable, thoughtful book that both informs about Indigenous fire management and tells Victor Steffensen's story of struggling with governments to implement these practices. The writing is quite simple and basic, but with a very characteristic voice (I would definitely recommend the audiobook, Steffensen telling his story is magical!) I found the interconnections the most interesting, it's incredible how native land, water, plants and animals work together and how this harmony has been facilitated by Aboriginal people for centuries.
Books like this make me proud to belong to a country with such beautiful cultural history and knowledge (and simultaneously dismayed at the way this has been supressed and subjugated), and I desparately hope that everyone wakes up to the importance of implementing things like Indigenous fire management to ensure to health and wellbeing of our beautiful land and country <3
Books like this make me proud to belong to a country with such beautiful cultural history and knowledge (and simultaneously dismayed at the way this has been supressed and subjugated), and I desparately hope that everyone wakes up to the importance of implementing things like Indigenous fire management to ensure to health and wellbeing of our beautiful land and country <3
January 22, 2026
'He looked over his country one last time, imagining his people free' I'm not sobbing I'm not sobbing I'm not sobbing :(
I think it goes without saying - this book should be mandatory reading for all Australians. The connection First Nations people have with the land will never be recreated by Western science and it is SO important we start listening to this knowledge! Books like these are beyond valuable, we are lucky enough to have all the instructions of how to manage and sustain the land laid out for us, it's up to us now to listen.
As the effects of climate change make themselves increasingly known, this book has never been more relevant. It was timely in its publication in 2020 and again in 2026 when once again, wild bushfires have ravaged the land, all because the government refuses to allow cultural burns - despite the mountains of evidence indicating the benefits of cultural burns. This book details those benefits, as well as what happens if burns stop, the ecological havoc non-native species have on the environment and how that can be remedied with traditional fire practices. It is incredible what the Earth can tell us about its health if only we knew how to read it and First Nations people KNOW how!!! WHY AREN'T WE LISTENING UGHhHHHHHhH
Nothing I say can do this book justice; just read it. Thank you Victor Steffensen for passing down your knowledge
I think it goes without saying - this book should be mandatory reading for all Australians. The connection First Nations people have with the land will never be recreated by Western science and it is SO important we start listening to this knowledge! Books like these are beyond valuable, we are lucky enough to have all the instructions of how to manage and sustain the land laid out for us, it's up to us now to listen.
As the effects of climate change make themselves increasingly known, this book has never been more relevant. It was timely in its publication in 2020 and again in 2026 when once again, wild bushfires have ravaged the land, all because the government refuses to allow cultural burns - despite the mountains of evidence indicating the benefits of cultural burns. This book details those benefits, as well as what happens if burns stop, the ecological havoc non-native species have on the environment and how that can be remedied with traditional fire practices. It is incredible what the Earth can tell us about its health if only we knew how to read it and First Nations people KNOW how!!! WHY AREN'T WE LISTENING UGHhHHHHHhH
Nothing I say can do this book justice; just read it. Thank you Victor Steffensen for passing down your knowledge
July 29, 2020
Personal and nuanced account of a man’s relationship to the Australian country, and his experience with Aboriginal cultural burning as a method to repair, de-risk, and care for ecological systems
May 27, 2020
Steffensen's book is a story of hope, love, and loss. He gives full form to a world of critical interdependencies and respect, where knowledge is deep and shared, where value isn't measured on a balance sheet.
I have the same dream that we can build a future rooted in the old ways, but my skepticism and cynicism eats at me.
On the day I finished reading this it was confirmed that mining company Rio Tinto had destroyed culturally significant Aboriginal rock shelters dating back more than 46,000 years, with government approval.
Poor fellow my country.
I have the same dream that we can build a future rooted in the old ways, but my skepticism and cynicism eats at me.
On the day I finished reading this it was confirmed that mining company Rio Tinto had destroyed culturally significant Aboriginal rock shelters dating back more than 46,000 years, with government approval.
Poor fellow my country.
March 6, 2020
The book and knowledge we need now more than ever in Australia
April 29, 2022
One month ago, my younger brother shared his secret with me. It relates to my family history, so I'll indulge in a brief prelude to put his revelation in context. For more than one decade now, my grandmother has studied our genealogy, chasing the roots of my family tree back multiple generations. The most exquisite jewel she's uncovered so far is an ancestor named Bessie. Bessie has obscure origins, but she was probably a full-blood Indigenous woman from the Cape York Peninsula.
This vast stretch of pristine wilderness, which is still mostly undisturbed today, has been home to Indigenous people for tens of thousands of years. It contains tropical rainforests, which horned and taloned cassowaries call home, as well as enormous eucalyptus savannahs and a host of other environments such as wetlands, heath lands, grasslands, mangrove swamps, and so on. As you would expect of such a complex mosaic of ecologies, there is more endemism here than almost anywhere else in Australia. The Peninsula is extremely biodiverse, containing such rare animal beauties as the green tree python, the carnivorous quoll, the huge green birdwing butterfly, a vast array of colourful birds such as wrens, parrots, and honeyeaters, and, until recently, the Bramble Cay melomy, a a very large mouse found only on one tiny island in the Great Barrier Reef and the first animal species whose extinction is blamed solely on anthropogenic climate change.
This paradise was where Bessie lived with her ancient, venerable people, and it was Bessie's misfortune to be one of the first of her people to suffer the violence of colonisation. She was kidnapped and raped by one of my white relatives, an Englishman who had the audacity to be a cop. It seems he enjoyed the fruits of power, because we think he took a few more "wives". It was this white man's rape of Bessie that spawned part of my bloodline. It was also what inspired my brother to look more deeply into Indigenous issues, which was the root of his secret.
Recently, my brother said that after years of self-consciousness and confusion about his feelings, he now identifies as Indigenous.
This was news to me. But it shouldn't have been, because it turns out my grandmother identifies as Indigenous, too, and that my dad shares their passion for Indigenous justice. Oh, and I can't forget about my grandfather's deathbed confession to me that he was not a Christian, but rather a believer in a weird admixture of Christianity and the Dreaming. Most Indigenous people incarcerated in Christian missions would have been familiar with this mongrel religion.
So now I find myself outnumbered. Most of my family identifies, either weakly or strongly, as Indigenous. This, despite none of them looking even remotely Indigenous to me. Was I missing something? What parts of my family legacy was I missing out on? How could I better understand my brother, father, and alive and dead grandparents, all of whom feel themselves to be connected to a people and a culture that is alien to me? How? Easy! I would do what I always do when presented with a problem.
I would read.
This is my second book about Indigenous issues. Although it was badly written and unengaging, it did firmly convince me of the superiority of Indigenous fire management. For countless ages, Indigenous Australians have managed the land by igniting controlled burns of the landscape. They did this for multiple reasons, most of which were variations on the theme of keeping the environment healthy. They helped some Ozzie flora that only releases its seeds when burned by fire; they burned away litter which, if left untreated, would ignite in catastrophic bushfires; they killed invasive species and species that encroached from other habitats; they burned to expose tubers and roots to harvest, which the fauna ate as well; they burned to create nature highways in a sophisticated form of hunting that would shuttle animals, such as kangaroo, from one hunting ground to another; they burned to revivify dying landscapes that would benefit from mineral-rich ash; and so on. In every case, burning made the landscape healthy.
Indigenous people also knew how to light very small, controlled burns. Their fires were cool, their flames short, the ash and smoke was white, not charred and black. They burned certain landscapes at certain times of year, depending on whether the land retained enough water to temper the fire's heat. They knew that if a certain plant's leaves were thick and waxy it was unlikely to catch true fire and burn up the plants adjacent. They would burn one country to allow young, hardier plants to grow for use as fire-buffers to protect other countries, and would some country only after rain, so that fires burn themselves out. Wise. They knew what kinds of bark resisted heat; what kinds of soil held water; what kinds of grass were flammable; and what kinds of landscape would benefit from fire. They burn country to revive ageing grasses, soils, and plants; to remove underbrush which kills plants and causes large, destructive fires; and to entice animals back into a once-dying landscape. This prevents bushfires and maintains soil fertility year-round.
In sum, Indigenous people burned the land to keep themselves, the flora, fauna, and the soil itself healthy. Their burns were regenerative, nothing at all like the wildfires that lately have wreaked havoc up and down the east coast. Indigenous fire management was the product of millennia of experimentation. Its practitioners were expert conservationists who kept Australia green and lush with life for tens of thousands of years.
In contrast, Western fire management is far less nuanced and far more destructive. We don't light preventative burns to erase leaf litter and encourage the growth of native, fire-resistant foliage. Instead, we burn firebreaks, which literally means terminally destroying the landscape so that nothing flammable can ever grow there. It's a little like trying to stop a war by building a wall, instead of doing the work that prevents warlike sentiments arising in the first place. It doesn't solve the problem, it makes it worse. It's completely backwards, and as a result of this stupidity Australia has recently suffered the worst firestorms in its history and the land remains as dry and brown and lifeless as ever.
This book convinced me of two things: first, of the need to empower Indigenous people to conduct controlled burns wherever they think it's warranted. Their traditional knowledge clearly enables them to burn land without risking loss of property. On the contrary, their burns would keep property safe from bushfires by removing flammable litter and would greatly increase biodiversity, which benefits all involved.
And second, Fire Country convinced me of the legitimacy of (some kinds of) Indigenous knowledge. The knowledge Indigenous firemakers have is exactly the same as that possessed by master craftsmen. Years, decades, indeed millennia of practice have gifted them with a profound and intuitive understanding of the needs of the land and of the means to help it, none of which can be got by spending a few years training as a fire fighter or studying ecology in a university. Currently, Western science and its initiates simply cannot manage the land as well as its ancient Indigenous stewards.
Australia needs to pass laws empowering Indigenous people to manage the land in Indigenous ways. We should pay more Indigenous people to be rangers, stewards, custodians, conservationists, etc. In many ways, their understanding clearly surpasses our own, and we'd be stupid not to acknowledge that, respect that, and use it to our mutual benefit.
Thanks, Fire Country, for making loud and clear the superiority of certain kinds of Indigenous knowledge, and for making clear to me, for the first time in my life, how incorporating this knowledge into our culture would be of immediate and mutual benefit.
This vast stretch of pristine wilderness, which is still mostly undisturbed today, has been home to Indigenous people for tens of thousands of years. It contains tropical rainforests, which horned and taloned cassowaries call home, as well as enormous eucalyptus savannahs and a host of other environments such as wetlands, heath lands, grasslands, mangrove swamps, and so on. As you would expect of such a complex mosaic of ecologies, there is more endemism here than almost anywhere else in Australia. The Peninsula is extremely biodiverse, containing such rare animal beauties as the green tree python, the carnivorous quoll, the huge green birdwing butterfly, a vast array of colourful birds such as wrens, parrots, and honeyeaters, and, until recently, the Bramble Cay melomy, a a very large mouse found only on one tiny island in the Great Barrier Reef and the first animal species whose extinction is blamed solely on anthropogenic climate change.
This paradise was where Bessie lived with her ancient, venerable people, and it was Bessie's misfortune to be one of the first of her people to suffer the violence of colonisation. She was kidnapped and raped by one of my white relatives, an Englishman who had the audacity to be a cop. It seems he enjoyed the fruits of power, because we think he took a few more "wives". It was this white man's rape of Bessie that spawned part of my bloodline. It was also what inspired my brother to look more deeply into Indigenous issues, which was the root of his secret.
Recently, my brother said that after years of self-consciousness and confusion about his feelings, he now identifies as Indigenous.
This was news to me. But it shouldn't have been, because it turns out my grandmother identifies as Indigenous, too, and that my dad shares their passion for Indigenous justice. Oh, and I can't forget about my grandfather's deathbed confession to me that he was not a Christian, but rather a believer in a weird admixture of Christianity and the Dreaming. Most Indigenous people incarcerated in Christian missions would have been familiar with this mongrel religion.
So now I find myself outnumbered. Most of my family identifies, either weakly or strongly, as Indigenous. This, despite none of them looking even remotely Indigenous to me. Was I missing something? What parts of my family legacy was I missing out on? How could I better understand my brother, father, and alive and dead grandparents, all of whom feel themselves to be connected to a people and a culture that is alien to me? How? Easy! I would do what I always do when presented with a problem.
I would read.
This is my second book about Indigenous issues. Although it was badly written and unengaging, it did firmly convince me of the superiority of Indigenous fire management. For countless ages, Indigenous Australians have managed the land by igniting controlled burns of the landscape. They did this for multiple reasons, most of which were variations on the theme of keeping the environment healthy. They helped some Ozzie flora that only releases its seeds when burned by fire; they burned away litter which, if left untreated, would ignite in catastrophic bushfires; they killed invasive species and species that encroached from other habitats; they burned to expose tubers and roots to harvest, which the fauna ate as well; they burned to create nature highways in a sophisticated form of hunting that would shuttle animals, such as kangaroo, from one hunting ground to another; they burned to revivify dying landscapes that would benefit from mineral-rich ash; and so on. In every case, burning made the landscape healthy.
Indigenous people also knew how to light very small, controlled burns. Their fires were cool, their flames short, the ash and smoke was white, not charred and black. They burned certain landscapes at certain times of year, depending on whether the land retained enough water to temper the fire's heat. They knew that if a certain plant's leaves were thick and waxy it was unlikely to catch true fire and burn up the plants adjacent. They would burn one country to allow young, hardier plants to grow for use as fire-buffers to protect other countries, and would some country only after rain, so that fires burn themselves out. Wise. They knew what kinds of bark resisted heat; what kinds of soil held water; what kinds of grass were flammable; and what kinds of landscape would benefit from fire. They burn country to revive ageing grasses, soils, and plants; to remove underbrush which kills plants and causes large, destructive fires; and to entice animals back into a once-dying landscape. This prevents bushfires and maintains soil fertility year-round.
In sum, Indigenous people burned the land to keep themselves, the flora, fauna, and the soil itself healthy. Their burns were regenerative, nothing at all like the wildfires that lately have wreaked havoc up and down the east coast. Indigenous fire management was the product of millennia of experimentation. Its practitioners were expert conservationists who kept Australia green and lush with life for tens of thousands of years.
In contrast, Western fire management is far less nuanced and far more destructive. We don't light preventative burns to erase leaf litter and encourage the growth of native, fire-resistant foliage. Instead, we burn firebreaks, which literally means terminally destroying the landscape so that nothing flammable can ever grow there. It's a little like trying to stop a war by building a wall, instead of doing the work that prevents warlike sentiments arising in the first place. It doesn't solve the problem, it makes it worse. It's completely backwards, and as a result of this stupidity Australia has recently suffered the worst firestorms in its history and the land remains as dry and brown and lifeless as ever.
This book convinced me of two things: first, of the need to empower Indigenous people to conduct controlled burns wherever they think it's warranted. Their traditional knowledge clearly enables them to burn land without risking loss of property. On the contrary, their burns would keep property safe from bushfires by removing flammable litter and would greatly increase biodiversity, which benefits all involved.
And second, Fire Country convinced me of the legitimacy of (some kinds of) Indigenous knowledge. The knowledge Indigenous firemakers have is exactly the same as that possessed by master craftsmen. Years, decades, indeed millennia of practice have gifted them with a profound and intuitive understanding of the needs of the land and of the means to help it, none of which can be got by spending a few years training as a fire fighter or studying ecology in a university. Currently, Western science and its initiates simply cannot manage the land as well as its ancient Indigenous stewards.
Australia needs to pass laws empowering Indigenous people to manage the land in Indigenous ways. We should pay more Indigenous people to be rangers, stewards, custodians, conservationists, etc. In many ways, their understanding clearly surpasses our own, and we'd be stupid not to acknowledge that, respect that, and use it to our mutual benefit.
Thanks, Fire Country, for making loud and clear the superiority of certain kinds of Indigenous knowledge, and for making clear to me, for the first time in my life, how incorporating this knowledge into our culture would be of immediate and mutual benefit.
March 16, 2022
To read Victor Steffensen's book is to enter another culture, one in which land management is dependent on fire. In the cultural traditions Steffensen learned from his two mentors, Australia's land depends on the cooperation of human beings to understand exactly when and where to set regenerating fires. If fire is employed properly, the land responds with flora and fauna that feed the people and keep the land productive.
The knowledge behind this very complex book was developed over tens of thousands of years. Settler pastoralists who moved onto the land, and booted out the indigenous inhabitants, saw things differently. They employed a European agricultural model that led to clearing of native vegetation and eventual poisoning the land to rid it of plants that were competition for foreign grains and such invasive species as sheep and cattle.
Steffensen finds allies among the three P's who represent settlers: politicians, parks and wildlife, and pastoralists. Unfortunately, the permissions process for cultural fires is so convoluted and slow that elders with the knowledge have mostly died off. Even permissions that are granted can be overturned at a whim. Steffensen has spent many years watching the promise of a better system of land management fall on deaf ears. Scholars have come and gone, taking bits of what he and the elders have taught but mostly ignoring it. His sadness and disappointment are deep.
The book broke my heart. Climate change is already hitting Australia hard, and we settlers don't have decades for bureaucracy and business to figure out how to regenerate and safeguard the land we have stripped. Scientists are making impressive advances that may allow us to make amends for the follies of our young cultures, but we need to absorb and act on the lessons of indigenous peoples whose connection with the land have been far deeper than we upstarts are willing to acknowledge.
The knowledge behind this very complex book was developed over tens of thousands of years. Settler pastoralists who moved onto the land, and booted out the indigenous inhabitants, saw things differently. They employed a European agricultural model that led to clearing of native vegetation and eventual poisoning the land to rid it of plants that were competition for foreign grains and such invasive species as sheep and cattle.
Steffensen finds allies among the three P's who represent settlers: politicians, parks and wildlife, and pastoralists. Unfortunately, the permissions process for cultural fires is so convoluted and slow that elders with the knowledge have mostly died off. Even permissions that are granted can be overturned at a whim. Steffensen has spent many years watching the promise of a better system of land management fall on deaf ears. Scholars have come and gone, taking bits of what he and the elders have taught but mostly ignoring it. His sadness and disappointment are deep.
The book broke my heart. Climate change is already hitting Australia hard, and we settlers don't have decades for bureaucracy and business to figure out how to regenerate and safeguard the land we have stripped. Scientists are making impressive advances that may allow us to make amends for the follies of our young cultures, but we need to absorb and act on the lessons of indigenous peoples whose connection with the land have been far deeper than we upstarts are willing to acknowledge.
December 17, 2020
Fascinating and incredibly readable. I knew little about fire management going in, despite growing up in bushfire prone country all my life, and nothing about aboriginal traditional fire practices.
Steffensen has a knack for making you see and care about the land and the role fire plays in it as much as he does. I’m unlikely to ever be involved with burning, but he made me start to see how the activity works, what it means to deeply understand the country you’re on (the soil, the grass, the trees, the seasons) and how to respond to help it recover and flourish. It’s the best example I’ve ever read of the link between aboriginal people and the land, and Steffensen’s argument that it should be how we all see and interact with our environment is powerful.
BRB, donating to Firesticks.
Steffensen has a knack for making you see and care about the land and the role fire plays in it as much as he does. I’m unlikely to ever be involved with burning, but he made me start to see how the activity works, what it means to deeply understand the country you’re on (the soil, the grass, the trees, the seasons) and how to respond to help it recover and flourish. It’s the best example I’ve ever read of the link between aboriginal people and the land, and Steffensen’s argument that it should be how we all see and interact with our environment is powerful.
BRB, donating to Firesticks.
April 23, 2021
<< I stood there thinking deeply about how Indigenous people worldwide had endured the arrival of 'the coming of the light'. It seemed to be the beginning of erasing culture and taking people away from the country. They wanted the people to worship the priests and the church and not the earth. Replacing spirituality with religion , exchanging the bible for the land.
'are you sure that calling the invaders Europeans is the right term?' ... 'the disconnected ones, that's right, they are the disconnected ones'
'you have to take notice' ... 'you need to take notice of everything. If you don't take note, then you will get lost'
<<
'are you sure that calling the invaders Europeans is the right term?' ... 'the disconnected ones, that's right, they are the disconnected ones'
'you have to take notice' ... 'you need to take notice of everything. If you don't take note, then you will get lost'
<<
December 17, 2023
An absolute must-read, especially for anyone in the environmental field- but not only! The message of this book is important for everyone in this country.
This book really emphasises the importance of bringing Indigenous knowledge to the front. It teaches you to truly seek to understand the land, and to listen to what it is telling you. Covering both knowledge on cultural burning as well as Steffensen's journey flowed well and was thorough, while still remaining easy to understand. This gives a lot of insight into Aboriginal communities, such as how knowledge is passed from Elders to new generations. It made me question some land management and government agency decisions and how even now that there is a higher focus on cultural knowledge in natural resource management, there are still many that are ignoring advice. Reading about some of the similarities between Indigenous communities around the world was also eye-opening.
The ending on climate change and the 2019/20 fires really drove home how relevant this is now and how it's essential to manage land the proper way, now.
Absolutely worth the read, I have gotten a lot out of this one!
This book really emphasises the importance of bringing Indigenous knowledge to the front. It teaches you to truly seek to understand the land, and to listen to what it is telling you. Covering both knowledge on cultural burning as well as Steffensen's journey flowed well and was thorough, while still remaining easy to understand. This gives a lot of insight into Aboriginal communities, such as how knowledge is passed from Elders to new generations. It made me question some land management and government agency decisions and how even now that there is a higher focus on cultural knowledge in natural resource management, there are still many that are ignoring advice. Reading about some of the similarities between Indigenous communities around the world was also eye-opening.
The ending on climate change and the 2019/20 fires really drove home how relevant this is now and how it's essential to manage land the proper way, now.
Absolutely worth the read, I have gotten a lot out of this one!
July 1, 2020
Fantastic informative book detailing how indigenous fire knowedge can be applied to make the land healthy again. Enthralling and easy to read.
July 29, 2022
Another fascinating read learning about the customs and culture of Indigenous Australians. This one is all about the practice of using fire effectively to manage the land.
March 26, 2024
Important read!
March 3, 2022
Written with the rhythm of yarning in mind. Outlines how and why we need to be healing this country with fire - and all the social, political and economic problems that are wrapped up in that.
November 10, 2025
An extremely interesting and important book. Fire Country was an awesome eye opener and introduction to indigenous fire management. As someone studying conservation, the topic of sustainable land management is so important, and the conservation needs to be led by the people who managed the land before us.
The line "the country loves us when we fit into the divine beauty of being apart of it." Is somthing I'm going to carry with me forever. I truly believe in and have experienced the effects of being apart of country. That connection with country is what will save our whole world.
I felt very engaged in the book. As someone with dyslexia, I have a track record of taking a year to finish 1 book. This one, I finished the same week I brought it. Yes, it's written very simply, but in some parts, it moved me to tears. But that simple writing helped me understand the information better and chew through the book.
While I don't agree with absolutely everything written and said, and some parts annoy me when he doesn't go into details about examples, and just turns around and goes, "Trust me bro.". It is still a wonderful book, and so bloody intresting and a real eye opener.
The line "the country loves us when we fit into the divine beauty of being apart of it." Is somthing I'm going to carry with me forever. I truly believe in and have experienced the effects of being apart of country. That connection with country is what will save our whole world.
I felt very engaged in the book. As someone with dyslexia, I have a track record of taking a year to finish 1 book. This one, I finished the same week I brought it. Yes, it's written very simply, but in some parts, it moved me to tears. But that simple writing helped me understand the information better and chew through the book.
While I don't agree with absolutely everything written and said, and some parts annoy me when he doesn't go into details about examples, and just turns around and goes, "Trust me bro.". It is still a wonderful book, and so bloody intresting and a real eye opener.
February 17, 2021
The knowledge in this book is overwhelmingly powerful.
Victor Steffensen’s experience with and passion for fire practice, country and the land took me on a journey toward understanding the environment, eco systems and their relationship with fire in a way I have never even come close to before.
It’s especially chilling to read this knowledge after the loss we have faced with mega fires in the past, but especially those in the summer of 2019/2020.
Victor’s voice and knowledge needs to be shared across the country and the world. I cannot do this book justice in a review. Please please read.
Victor Steffensen’s experience with and passion for fire practice, country and the land took me on a journey toward understanding the environment, eco systems and their relationship with fire in a way I have never even come close to before.
It’s especially chilling to read this knowledge after the loss we have faced with mega fires in the past, but especially those in the summer of 2019/2020.
Victor’s voice and knowledge needs to be shared across the country and the world. I cannot do this book justice in a review. Please please read.
October 18, 2020
There's more story than you can poke a stick at here. In fact, stories. The remarkable story of the late Awu-Laya elders, Dr George Musgrave and Dr Tommy George. The story of the author's life. The story of rekindling indigenous fire knowledge around Australia. The story of the land. The story of the sick colonial society we're all suffering from. None of these stories are told in full, and all are told in dribs and drabs throughout the book. But it is as captivating as a great story of humanity as well as an inspired plea for better care for the land.
According to Steffensen's account, much of the country needs fire to be applied carefully, at the right time (excluding some areas of no-fire country). A cool fire burns one ecosystem up to the borders where that ecosystem transitions into another, and here the fire goes out - either because the next ecosystem is still too green to burn, or because it already got burnt earlier. Because the fire is a cool, trickling burn it doesn't kill everything, and doesn't cause big flames that scorch the tree canopy, either. Protecting the trees is important because if their canopy is scorched, the dead leaves drop to the ground. This allows more sun to come in, drying everything out, while the leaves smother regrowth.
Since I use fire in managing grassland areas for biodiversity, I'm very sympathetic to these methods and they are told with a lot of extra context about how Indigenous peoples read the landscape and use the resources, not just burning for fuel reduction or "green pick" to feed stock. There's a wealth of ideas about using fire to reduce weeds (which rings very true to my experience), and the problems of country that has been too long unburnt, or burnt too hot, with buildup of fuel, thickets of Acacia, and that kind of thing. It all sets off a cascade of questions in my mind, good questions I hope.
Steffenson says he reads the country and the conditions for beneficial fire all over Australia, which is an impressive skill. Having read and analysed a bit of the popular literature about fire that has come out in recent years, I've heard examples of Indigenous people who don't use much fire, at least in some ecosystems. There's also places where, whatever the Indigenous people may have done, we have pretty good evidence that frequent fire is very damaging. Mallee-fowl, for example, generally need long-unburnt mallee to live in. Whether cool Indigenous burning practices would be compatible with them, or even possible in their dry environment is an interesting question. It would be interesting to see what Steffensen's reading of these drier countries would reveal. Equally, Indigenous people in the wet forests of southern Victoria, like the Gunditjmara people of western Victoria, say that their tall, wet Eucalypt forests were not burned traditionally, and probably should not be now (although the government does conduct fuel reduction burns there frequently, also in mallee and the "desert" areas of Victoria where the mallee fowl lives).
In grassy (and perhaps heathy) ecosystems, which appears to be what Steffenson is talking about through most of this book, the (careful) use of fire should be a lot less controversial based on. It was interesting hearing him talk about "sick" country where there was nothing but dry leaf litter and no grasses coming through. Drier forests like Victoria's box-ironbark forests often look like this. In many cases their history includes being cleared for mining, the topsoil stripped away, and all sorts of disturbance, and there is some ecological evidence that frequent fire isn't good for them (now, at least). Perhaps the right kind of fire could help to bring back the native grasses and ground layer plants in these areas? Or would it just do more damage? Of course "the right type of fire" is a variant of the "no true Scotsman" fallacy. There's so much to learn and as Steffenson says you only really learn from "praction", a great neologism he got from the Elders, which seems to mean about the same as "praxis".
I could go on but this is a review and my picking apart what I'm interested in is less important than you going and reading the book (praction, people!). The stories here deserve to be heard by all Australians because they are (or should be) a part of who we are. For land managers, listening and learning from the oldest culture on the planet about how they managed the land successfully for so long is even more important.
According to Steffensen's account, much of the country needs fire to be applied carefully, at the right time (excluding some areas of no-fire country). A cool fire burns one ecosystem up to the borders where that ecosystem transitions into another, and here the fire goes out - either because the next ecosystem is still too green to burn, or because it already got burnt earlier. Because the fire is a cool, trickling burn it doesn't kill everything, and doesn't cause big flames that scorch the tree canopy, either. Protecting the trees is important because if their canopy is scorched, the dead leaves drop to the ground. This allows more sun to come in, drying everything out, while the leaves smother regrowth.
Since I use fire in managing grassland areas for biodiversity, I'm very sympathetic to these methods and they are told with a lot of extra context about how Indigenous peoples read the landscape and use the resources, not just burning for fuel reduction or "green pick" to feed stock. There's a wealth of ideas about using fire to reduce weeds (which rings very true to my experience), and the problems of country that has been too long unburnt, or burnt too hot, with buildup of fuel, thickets of Acacia, and that kind of thing. It all sets off a cascade of questions in my mind, good questions I hope.
Steffenson says he reads the country and the conditions for beneficial fire all over Australia, which is an impressive skill. Having read and analysed a bit of the popular literature about fire that has come out in recent years, I've heard examples of Indigenous people who don't use much fire, at least in some ecosystems. There's also places where, whatever the Indigenous people may have done, we have pretty good evidence that frequent fire is very damaging. Mallee-fowl, for example, generally need long-unburnt mallee to live in. Whether cool Indigenous burning practices would be compatible with them, or even possible in their dry environment is an interesting question. It would be interesting to see what Steffensen's reading of these drier countries would reveal. Equally, Indigenous people in the wet forests of southern Victoria, like the Gunditjmara people of western Victoria, say that their tall, wet Eucalypt forests were not burned traditionally, and probably should not be now (although the government does conduct fuel reduction burns there frequently, also in mallee and the "desert" areas of Victoria where the mallee fowl lives).
In grassy (and perhaps heathy) ecosystems, which appears to be what Steffenson is talking about through most of this book, the (careful) use of fire should be a lot less controversial based on. It was interesting hearing him talk about "sick" country where there was nothing but dry leaf litter and no grasses coming through. Drier forests like Victoria's box-ironbark forests often look like this. In many cases their history includes being cleared for mining, the topsoil stripped away, and all sorts of disturbance, and there is some ecological evidence that frequent fire isn't good for them (now, at least). Perhaps the right kind of fire could help to bring back the native grasses and ground layer plants in these areas? Or would it just do more damage? Of course "the right type of fire" is a variant of the "no true Scotsman" fallacy. There's so much to learn and as Steffenson says you only really learn from "praction", a great neologism he got from the Elders, which seems to mean about the same as "praxis".
I could go on but this is a review and my picking apart what I'm interested in is less important than you going and reading the book (praction, people!). The stories here deserve to be heard by all Australians because they are (or should be) a part of who we are. For land managers, listening and learning from the oldest culture on the planet about how they managed the land successfully for so long is even more important.
February 17, 2021
An incredibly important book for all. All Australians, all people on nations impacted by fire and the increasing potential for fire to impact the daily living of us all.
We are truly fortunate in Australia to have a living culture with living knowledge of what Country (the land, our living on the land and the way we fit into the environment) needs to heal and thrive. And all we have to do is be willing and able to listen. To stop being the big boss who thinks we know better and to stop and listen and have the courage to recognise the damage that has occurred over the past 200 plus years, to have the sense to turn and look and see and understand the environment and to be willing to learn.
We must learn. We must all recognise the truth that the planet is in serious strife and that we humans -with our drive and greed and intelligence and lack of ability to understand the complex living system that is this amazing living ecology on and of our beautiful planet- are responsible for this terrifying chaos of what we have named climate change. We must learn, act, and hope for the future, because we have children and grandchildren and babies coming along who are the inheritors of this mess and their very lives are at stake here.
An important book, well written, enjoyable and easy to read even though it is a serious subject. And what a joy it was to get to know the two old men, Dr Tommy George (Snr) and Dr George Mulgrave (Snr)
We are truly fortunate in Australia to have a living culture with living knowledge of what Country (the land, our living on the land and the way we fit into the environment) needs to heal and thrive. And all we have to do is be willing and able to listen. To stop being the big boss who thinks we know better and to stop and listen and have the courage to recognise the damage that has occurred over the past 200 plus years, to have the sense to turn and look and see and understand the environment and to be willing to learn.
We must learn. We must all recognise the truth that the planet is in serious strife and that we humans -with our drive and greed and intelligence and lack of ability to understand the complex living system that is this amazing living ecology on and of our beautiful planet- are responsible for this terrifying chaos of what we have named climate change. We must learn, act, and hope for the future, because we have children and grandchildren and babies coming along who are the inheritors of this mess and their very lives are at stake here.
An important book, well written, enjoyable and easy to read even though it is a serious subject. And what a joy it was to get to know the two old men, Dr Tommy George (Snr) and Dr George Mulgrave (Snr)
June 8, 2020
Victor Steffensen has written the best book I've yet encountered on traditional land care and burning practices of Australian Aborigines. What makes this book stand out from others on the topic is Victor's personal story and involvement with helping others to get back on country and take care of the land as their ancestors did.
He is aided in his quest by two elders who have much to tell him of Aboriginal lore and who stress the importance of walking the land, learning about the different types of country, and reading the signs that indicate when to undertake traditional burning to improve the land without destroying everything.
I actually wished I could afford to purchase enough copies of this book to give to everyone who has any involvement in fire prevention and fire fighting. We have so much to learn from the elders who have retained the wisdom and the knowledge of how to care for country properly. They are our most precious resource of all, and we must learn from them while we are still blessed to have them.
He is aided in his quest by two elders who have much to tell him of Aboriginal lore and who stress the importance of walking the land, learning about the different types of country, and reading the signs that indicate when to undertake traditional burning to improve the land without destroying everything.
I actually wished I could afford to purchase enough copies of this book to give to everyone who has any involvement in fire prevention and fire fighting. We have so much to learn from the elders who have retained the wisdom and the knowledge of how to care for country properly. They are our most precious resource of all, and we must learn from them while we are still blessed to have them.
July 24, 2020
Victor Steffenson is an Indigenous Australian writer and filmmaker, who applies traditional values (particularly of fire management) in contemporary Australia - passing on the wisdom that he has learned from the elders of the Laura Aboriginal community in the process.
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‘Fire Country’ is a straightforward account of Steffenson’s knowledge and experience of traditional fire management practices, and the ways in which it is endlessly beneficial to Australian wildlife over the modern, government backed methods. He has often clashed with those who don’t understand the traditional slow and controlled methods of managing country, and is desperate to educate and bring together communities.
.
A really interesting read; short and eye opening - with no bells and whistles - Steffenson tells it as he sees it.
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A book for anybody interested in Australia, or the practice of protecting wildlife through fire management. It’s another of those books that will probably never be picked up by the very people that really need to read it!
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‘Fire Country’ is a straightforward account of Steffenson’s knowledge and experience of traditional fire management practices, and the ways in which it is endlessly beneficial to Australian wildlife over the modern, government backed methods. He has often clashed with those who don’t understand the traditional slow and controlled methods of managing country, and is desperate to educate and bring together communities.
.
A really interesting read; short and eye opening - with no bells and whistles - Steffenson tells it as he sees it.
.
A book for anybody interested in Australia, or the practice of protecting wildlife through fire management. It’s another of those books that will probably never be picked up by the very people that really need to read it!
February 20, 2021
5* - 10/10
"The land has an immune system, just like us, and when we activate it to make it strong, it will fight the causes of sickness. But the land needs people to connect this way to activate the process, especially in fire-dependent systems." (188)
Steffensen's first hand account of learning and then passing on the knowledge of his elders of indigenous fire practices seems like an obvious way that we can start to heal the earth and its inhabitants - if only it weren't for government red tape and the stubbornness of western practices who think they know better. Steffensen shows that fire can help activate the life cycles of different ecosystems and when done properly, it is a therapeutic process for all.
Published after Australia's horror fire season of 2020, you can see the frustration in Steffensen's writing that it all could have potentially been prevented if indigenous fire practices were more widely accepted as an effective way to manage the land.
A must read for every Australian, environmentalist, firey, and eco-warrior.
"The land has an immune system, just like us, and when we activate it to make it strong, it will fight the causes of sickness. But the land needs people to connect this way to activate the process, especially in fire-dependent systems." (188)
Steffensen's first hand account of learning and then passing on the knowledge of his elders of indigenous fire practices seems like an obvious way that we can start to heal the earth and its inhabitants - if only it weren't for government red tape and the stubbornness of western practices who think they know better. Steffensen shows that fire can help activate the life cycles of different ecosystems and when done properly, it is a therapeutic process for all.
Published after Australia's horror fire season of 2020, you can see the frustration in Steffensen's writing that it all could have potentially been prevented if indigenous fire practices were more widely accepted as an effective way to manage the land.
A must read for every Australian, environmentalist, firey, and eco-warrior.
September 13, 2023
Very insightful and timely read for all Australians. Stephenson provides an insight crucial knowledge of Australia and the science behind the secrets of a healthy landscape.
I highly recommend for anyone working on or with the land. It is time to engage with the local fire knowledge (that still exists) in order to improve the land we have by keeping it healthy and safe. After the stark few years of bushfires in Australia, knowledge of this kind is imperative.
Aside from the actual knowledge of different countries, practices, etc. the way Stephenson weaves in stories and connection of key figures makes for an enjoyable journey through the book. Although the prose doesn’t keep you engaged with every word or sentence, the overall story is one that makes you smile. Witnessing the characters revel in their connection has already made me reflect and feel greater connection to the Whadjuk country I’m on.
Overall, an enjoyable read, journey and learning about the vast country of Australia and the practices that keep it.
I highly recommend for anyone working on or with the land. It is time to engage with the local fire knowledge (that still exists) in order to improve the land we have by keeping it healthy and safe. After the stark few years of bushfires in Australia, knowledge of this kind is imperative.
Aside from the actual knowledge of different countries, practices, etc. the way Stephenson weaves in stories and connection of key figures makes for an enjoyable journey through the book. Although the prose doesn’t keep you engaged with every word or sentence, the overall story is one that makes you smile. Witnessing the characters revel in their connection has already made me reflect and feel greater connection to the Whadjuk country I’m on.
Overall, an enjoyable read, journey and learning about the vast country of Australia and the practices that keep it.
February 7, 2025
I'm sorry, I wanted to like this. Mõte ja sõnum on võimas, aga delivery... täiesti kohutav. Ma ei osanud alati isegi näppu peale panna, lihtsalt niii igav ja raske oli ennast läbi suruda. Bioloogia baka on mu vist ära rikkunud; ma ootasin sügavamaid selgitusi, teaduslikumat seoste loomist ja/või täpsemaid termineid (olen seega täpselt see valge lääne inimene, keda Steffensen kirjeldab). Samas põletamise võtted kui sellised tundusid igati praktilised.
Raamatu tasakaal loperdas kuidagi: kord oli ta autobiograafiline jutustus põletamise võtete õpetamisest, teisel hetkel süva-analüüs erinevatest kooslustest (mis liiginimede rohkusest hoolimata mõjus mittemidagiütlevalt). Ma saan aru, et selle eesmärk oli raamatule väärtust juurde luua, aga nende kahe diskursuse vaheldumine tõmbas isegi aeglasele edenemisele kõvasti pidurit.
Üks positiivne asi siiski, mulle väga meeldis kaardi pealt kohanimesid ja google'st liike järele vaadata :)
Raamatu tasakaal loperdas kuidagi: kord oli ta autobiograafiline jutustus põletamise võtete õpetamisest, teisel hetkel süva-analüüs erinevatest kooslustest (mis liiginimede rohkusest hoolimata mõjus mittemidagiütlevalt). Ma saan aru, et selle eesmärk oli raamatule väärtust juurde luua, aga nende kahe diskursuse vaheldumine tõmbas isegi aeglasele edenemisele kõvasti pidurit.
Üks positiivne asi siiski, mulle väga meeldis kaardi pealt kohanimesid ja google'st liike järele vaadata :)
June 19, 2023
This is one of those books that are a must read if the topic is important to you. Bushfires are hotter and more unpredictable than ever. Traditional burning practice requires detailed knowledge and careful consideration of seasons and the breeding and growth habits of fauna and flora. It takes a very different approach than ‘wait until the weather is right and then burn as much as you can within a target area. It’s a more gradual and gentle process of working with, rather than against nature. Victor Steffenson’s book so profoundly affected my understanding of bushfire risk and bushfire prevention that I now donate regularly to a handful of organisations whose focus is recruiting and training First Nations rangers to keep an eye on country in the ongoing traditional caretaker way. If only we had appreciated this wisdom much, much earlier.
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