Pyracantha angustifolia, or firethorn, is a noxious weed introduced to Australia as an ornamental plant. Thriving in dry, grassy woodlands, it is both striking and dangerous. Long thorns protrude from stems clustered with vivid orange, yellow, or red berries. Beautiful and uninvited, it takes hold quickly, and is sharp, showy, and invasive.

On the Sharing Stories field trip to Walgalu Country in the Tumut region of NSW, I was struck by the firethorn’s spread. Among native grasses, eucalypts, wattles and bottlebrush, this foreign plant flourishes — a pretty thief overtaking indigenous species and wounding animals.

We were there to learn from Walgalu people about the region’s cultural and spiritual significance, including birthing rocks, scarred trees, tools, and deep knowledge rooted in Country. I was shocked to learn how many of these sacred places are now locked behind private land boundaries or drowned beneath the Tumut River, a product of the Snowy River Scheme, denying Traditional Owners access even for ceremony. 

In recreating firethorn, I wanted to hold and reflect on the discomfort of Australia’s settler past, the pain it continues to inflict, and the transparency needed as we reckon with it.