Ashes of Home: A Personal Plea Against the Lange (Albany)Burn
Written 01/10/2026
Ashes of Home: A Personal Plea Against the Lange Burn
I used to walk the trails in Lange, Albany—between Bandicoot Road and Mercer Road—where the bush whispered stories older than any of us. It wasn’t just a walk. It was a ritual. A communion with the land. Every step was shared with kangaroos grazing in the undergrowth, echidnas rustling through leaf litter, and the haunting call of Carnaby’s black cockatoos overhead.
I was part of a team that counted Western Ringtail Possums in those trees. Twice. We documented their presence, their nests, their fragile hold on survival. These aren’t just animals. They are critically endangered. And now, the very forest that shelters them is marked for fire.
The Department of Biodiversity, Conservation and Attractions (DBCA) has scheduled a prescribed burn for this crown land as part of its spring burning program. The final decision to ignite is made on the morning of the burn, based on weather and safety conditions. But by then, it’s always too late to protest. Too late to protect.
Let’s be clear: spring burns occur during peak breeding and nesting season for many native species—numbats, chuditch, quenda, black cockatoos, and yes, possums. There is often no ecological survey beforehand. No count. No acknowledgment of the lives that will be lost. Joeys in pouches. Echidnas curled in leaf litter. Reptiles hidden in hollows. All at risk.
And the burns themselves? They’re not gentle mosaics. They burn hotter and more extensively than intended, with flame heights reaching ten metres. They destroy canopy cover, soil ecosystems, and the very trees that Western Ringtail Possums depend on. These animals are nocturnal, arboreal, and deeply tied to the myrtaceous trees that grow here. They don’t just live in this bush—they survive because of it.
Deliberately killing a critically endangered species is a criminal offence under the Biodiversity Conservation Act 2016. Penalties can include fines up to $500,000 and imprisonment. But when the killing is wrapped in policy, sanctioned by permits, and executed by driptorch—who is held accountable?
Here’s the contradiction: the same organisation that issues permits to torch native bushland is also tasked with protecting the wildlife that lives within it. Same agency, different departments. How does that work? Who holds whom accountable when the left hand signs off on destruction and the right hand mourns the loss?
Western Ringtail Possums were once widespread across the southwest, from Perth to Albany. Their habitat has shrunk by an estimated 90%. Only two strongholds remain in Western Australia—and one of them is here, in Albany. This isn’t just a pocket of bush. It’s a last refuge. And it’s being marked for burning.
Has anyone gone out there at night? Has anyone stood quietly under the canopy and listened to the rustle of life? Because I have. I lived it. I loved it. And I will not stay silent while it’s turned to smoke.
And let’s not forget the human impact. Smoke from these burns can severely affect air quality, triggering respiratory issues for nearby residents. DBCA advises people to close windows and follow medical precautions—but that doesn’t address the root issue: frequent, high-intensity burns that threaten both wildlife and community health.
If you’re concerned about this burn, you can:
Contact DBCA directly to request ecological assessments or express community concerns.
Reach out to local conservation groups in Albany who may be monitoring the impact.
Share your story publicly to raise awareness about the consequences of spring burns.
This isn’t just about possums. It’s about the systems we’ve built, the values we hold, and the legacy we leave. If we can’t protect what’s critically endangered in its last remaining home, what hope do we offer for anything else?
Sheila
Found injured during a possum count walk, Sheila was taken into care and gently restored. She was later released back to the very bush she called home. Now, that sanctuary is under threat—from a fire planned to sweep through her habitat. Sheila’s story is a reminder: every life in the undergrowth matters, and every burn carries more than smoke—it carries consequence.
(Photo Credit Lata Photography)