Imagine standing in the path of an unstoppable inferno, the air thick with smoke, the ground smoldering beneath your feet. This was the reality for David Rigby, who found himself trapped in the Longwood bushfire, a harrowing ordeal that left an entire community reeling. But here's where it gets even more devastating: while Rigby’s home miraculously survived, the surrounding landscape was reduced to ashes, a stark reminder of nature’s raw power. And this is the part most people miss—the stories of resilience, loss, and the quiet heroism of those who fought to protect what they could.
On the outskirts of Yarck, a quaint farming town nestled in central Victoria, the aftermath of the fire is still palpable. Gumtrees flicker with remnants of flames, and white ash swirls through the air like a ghostly reminder of the destruction. Across the region, homes have been reduced to twisted metal, their brick chimneys standing as lone sentinels amidst the ruins. Yet, amidst this devastation, Rigby’s property stands as an oasis of green, his house intact, a testament to his quick thinking and preparation.
‘I was actually preparing to leave at 10 a.m. yesterday,’ Rigby recalls, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the stress of the ordeal. ‘I went to check on my neighbors, but by then, the roads were cut off. There was no escape.’ With no time to waste, Rigby sprang into action. Armed with bore water, a generator, and sheer determination, he rigged up sprinklers, hosed down his house, and joined forces with five other neighbors to defend their small street. Their efforts saved many homes, but the cost was immeasurable stress. ‘The wind was howling, the smoke was blinding, and the trees were bent over as if in surrender,’ he remembers.
But here’s the controversial part: while Rigby and his neighbors fought valiantly, the local Country Fire Authority (CFA) was stretched to its limits, forced to retreat from the fire’s frontlines to defend their own homes. Is this a failure of resources, or simply the overwhelming scale of the disaster? It’s a question that sparks debate and demands reflection.
As Rigby surveys the nearby hills, he points to the homes of neighbors who weren’t as fortunate. A dairy farm on the ridge, a small shack at the end of the road, and his back neighbor—all lost to the flames. ‘We were pinched in the middle of it,’ he says. ‘It was calm, calm, calm, and then just hectic.’
The bushfires continue to rage across Victoria, leaving residents displaced and desperate to return home. But authorities caution that safety comes first. The full extent of the damage remains unknown, but the numbers are staggering: at least 300 structures destroyed, including 80 homes, and 350,000 hectares burned. One life was tragically lost, their body found near Yarck Road. On social media, anxious residents plead for updates, asking if their homes are safe, if their livestock have water, or if there’s spare feed to be found.
On the other side of the Yarck ridge, Kathy Munslow returns to her animal shelter, Gunyah Animal Healing Sanctuary, to find a scene of devastation. Many animals are injured, all are hungry, and some are missing. ‘The animals are standing in smoldering paddocks, the fence still burning,’ she says, her voice trembling. ‘The only thing standing is my house, which the CFA saved by mere inches. Everything else is gone. I’m here alone, feeling scared.’ Like many, Munslow is scrambling to find food for her surviving animals, her $3,000 investment in hay now reduced to ash. ‘For a struggling charity, that’s a year’s worth,’ she laments. With no power, no running water, and no phone reception, her situation is dire.
Down the road, the Yarck pub stands as the only open establishment, its doors kept open by Chris Charman while its proprietor battles to save his own property. Charman’s own home was lost to the flames, but he brushes aside his grief, more concerned about his friends who’ve lost livestock and livelihoods. ‘So many houses, so many farms are gone,’ he says. ‘No one knows how bad it really is.’
The surrounding farms tell a grim tale: piles of hay still burn in paddocks, and dead animals—koalas, cows, some unrecognizable—litter the roads. At a community meeting in Seymour, deputy incident controller Greg Murphy reassures residents that efforts are underway to return them to their properties as soon as it’s safe. But the challenges are immense: powerlines are down, roads are blocked, and thick smoke lingers. ‘We’re not out of the woods yet,’ Murphy warns. The next steps are clear: control the fire, secure the roads, and provide much-needed relief.
And this is where it gets even more heart-wrenching: gun shops have begun donating ammunition to farmers, who face the agonizing task of euthanizing severely injured livestock. In Mansfield, Shane Curley has already distributed hundreds of rounds, his voice breaking as he recalls the 2019-20 fires, when he spent months helping farmers put down animals. ‘It’s not going to be good,’ he says, tears welling up. ‘I’ll probably need more donations, but if I can just do something to help, I will.’
State Nationals MP Annabelle Cleeland, whose family farm outside Euroa remains inaccessible, fears they’ve lost 1,000 sheep. ‘We don’t know yet, but we need to get in there,’ she says. ‘As farmers, it’s our job to protect our animals. We won’t let them starve—that’s just torturous.’ Her electorate, at the top of the fire map, is transitioning from the fight phase to recovery. With a group of locals, she’s organizing a drive to deliver animal feed to those in need. ‘Everyone here has been impacted,’ she says. ‘No one will be unscathed.’
As the community begins to rebuild, questions linger. Could more have been done to prevent this? How can we better prepare for future fires? And what does this say about our relationship with the land and climate? These are conversations we must have, not just for Yarck, but for all communities facing the growing threat of wildfires. What’s your take? Do you think we’re doing enough to combat these disasters, or is there more we should be doing? Let’s discuss in the comments.
