On Taungurung Country, the making of cultural artefacts is much more than a skill — it is a way of reading, listening to, and caring for Country. The knowledge of how to gather and shape resources like daanaks (coolamons) and shields has been passed down through generations, taught by Elders and role models, and practiced with respect for the trees, waters, and seasons that sustain us.

My name is Ben Young, and recently, I had the privilege of learning to cut a daanak from Ashley, a cultural role model, and Uncle Shane, a respected Elder.  Both shared their own techniques for making the daanak — a skill that begins not with tools, but with observation. You must look carefully at each individual tree, and its place in the landscape, to know if it is ready to give. In wetter times of year, more options appear; in dry times, the choices are fewer, reminding us that timing and patience are part of cultural practice.

In the Nagambie region, where the water brings extra moisture to the trees, we cut scars from the South-Eastern side — protecting them from the harsh afternoon sun. Not every tree is suitable. The bark must offer a smooth and even surface, and only those ready to share their strength can be chosen.

From this work, we gathered daanaks and a shield. Daanaks, also known as coolamons, are shallow vessels shaped and dried to the perfect curve. They become both practical and symbolic — used for gathering and serving food, but also carrying stories of Country. The shield we cut was shaped like an elongated daanak. To finish it, holes will be carved in the centre and a blackwood branch bent to form the handle — creating a strong, ceremonial tool.

These practices are guided not only by contemporary agreements, like the Recognition and Settlement Agreement (RSA) and Land Use Activity Agreement (LUAA), which give Taungurung People rights to gather resources on Crown Land, but also by our own Lore. That Lore tells us to never take more than we need, to harvest carefully, and to stop if Country is not healthy enough to give. It reminds us that cultural practice is inseparable from caring for Country.

Making artefacts on Country is therefore not simply about creating an object. It is about relationships — with Elders and knowledge-holders who pass down skills, with the trees and waters that provide resources, and with the broader community who continue to carry and honour Taungurung Culture. Each daanak, each shield, carries with it the story of the land it came from, and the responsibility to walk gently with Country for generations to come.

Ashley shared his reflection from the day also:

“ Having days out on country like the Daanak day are very special to me. It provides opportunity to practice our culture and strengthen it. It gives me a personal role to help the younger generations below me to come up strong and teach and show them the same culture that I was taught from our older generations and Elders. To give more mob the confidence to get out on Country and live their culture as we have the right to do so.” Ashley Wilkinson

Information and reflections shared by Ben Young and Ashley Wilkinson – wawa biik Cultural Guides.  Images of Ben and Ashley cutting their daanaks. 

A hush settles over the group as wawa biik guests gather beneath the towering presence of a gnarly old Greybox. Its weathered trunk bears a deep scar on the south-east side—silent but powerful evidence of an ancient story. This tree has likely stood here for centuries, holding memory in its bark and earth beneath.

Uncle Shane and his nephew Ashley, proud cultural tour guides, stand beside it—not just as storytellers, but as descendants of those who walked this land long before. Uncle Shane gently places his hand on the tree, while Ashley pauses in quiet respect. Then, with care and clarity, they begin to share its significance: this is a culturally modified tree, shaped by Ancestors who once removed a section of bark.

That bark became a sled, used by Taungurung women to carry their harvest—tubers, berries, roots—across the muddy floodplains. As you listen, a vivid picture forms: women wading through wetlands, strength and knowledge guiding every step, returning to camp with food and stories for their kin.

The image stays with you. It’s not just history—it’s living culture, rooted in place, and carried forward in story.

Not only does this tree tell the story of the movement of Taungurung People through this landscape, but it holds the stories of what the landscape would have been like – the water flows, the availability of food, the forest type.

This single tree is more than just a survivor of colonisation, climate change and environmental degradation, it is a piece of a larger puzzle that helps archaeologists and the Taungurung community to awaken more of the overall biocultural story of Country.    

The word ‘scar’ for describing these trees is an unfortunate colonial term which has stuck. First Peoples prefer to call these trees ‘Culturally Modified Trees (CMTs)’ – an umbrella term that references the value of trees for multiple cultural practices.  For some tree lovers, the idea of ‘scarring’ can elicit concerns that the tree has been killed in the process. This is not the case. There is minimal harm done to the overall health of the tree.  First Nations People live by a cultural lore that prevents them from unsustainable use of any natural resources.  

When referring to ‘scar trees’ this references a tree that has had bark removed to the level of sapwood to create a useful item such as a coolamon (daanak in Taungurung language) or canoe (gurrong in Taungurung language) or for other purposes. First Peoples are taught by their Elders the ‘art’ of scarring a tree to ensure the tree can heal. There are particular processes, preferred times of year, and species of trees that are taken into consideration, as well as methods for looking after the tree to aid with the quickest healing time possible. Evidence of healthy scarred trees dated at 700 years old have been found on Taungurung Country with their scars almost fully sealed over, which proves that this cultural practice has been sustained and perfected for generations. 

Once people understand the cultural significance of these trees, they realise the enormous value they provide us all in understanding the history, human geography and sustainability of these living cultural landscapes.

First Nations Elder and wawa biik guide Uncle Shane explains what cultural heritage means for him as an Elder:

“It helps us re-build our stories. A lot of information was dormant when our Ancestors were put onto missions and forced to give up their culture. We are slowly waking these stories to find travel routes, Dreamtime stories and information to start linking stuff together. Cultural heritage can also reveal how much our Country has changed over a couple of hundred years so can give us vital information on how to live more sustainably. The way the current process works, unless there’s a development happening on Taungurung Country, we may never get the opportunity to find important sites. Doing a Cultural Heritage Management Plan (CHMP) gives us a chance to put a story together for future generations – so they know where mob have been camping and collecting resources from. It’s waking up our culture, our ways, our knowledge that we can all learn from”.

Protecting CMTs is so important yet so challenging.  CMTs are chopped down or vandalised at an alarming rate in Australia, there is also the issue of natural ageing and decay, timber cutting and environmental problems such as salinity and fires[1]. Whilst it’s a cultural practice that more people should know about, it’s a fine line between sharing this cultural knowledge with the public while trying to protect culture, for the risk of this information getting into the wrong hands.

Jonah Honeysett – Cultural Heritage Advisor tells us how the Taungurung Land and Waters Council has responsibility for looking after these CMTs:

“The Taungurung Land and Waters Council as the official Registered Aboriginal Party has statutory obligations for the preservation, protection, and conservation of Taungurung traditional cultural materials and cultural heritage sites within Taungurung Country. TLaWC is also responsible for conducting archaeological surveys that inform Cultural Heritage Management Plans (CHMPs) and Cultural Heritage Permits and has the capacity to investigate, protect and register the cultural heritage sites identified on the Victorian Aboriginal Heritage Register (ACHRIS).”

We are the Knowledge Holders, the experts and the community that has the rights and responsibilities to look after our cultural objects, our cultural knowledge and our Country. It’s empowering for our People. It is important that there is self-determination for us as Traditional Owners in handling and protecting Taungurung Country/cultural objects. I find it liberating. It’s about acknowledging the antiquity in the Country and showing that we had so much more than a nomadic lifestyle”.

Many may think that ‘scarring’ a tree is something of the past, but it is still a cultural practice that has continued to this day.  For young Taungurung people, it’s an honour to scar their first tree alongside an Elder.  There are many contemporary scar trees in the landscape many of which tell their own story of the passing down of cultural knowledge to the next generation.  This passing on of knowledge is what is referred to as ‘intangible cultural heritage’ – it’s the knowledge, the language, the stories, the beliefs that are all as important as the tangible cultural heritage.

Elder and artist Uncle Mick Harding tells us about the cultural practice of scarring a tree and why this is still a significant cultural practice today:

“Back before invasion, bark vessels were used for collecting foods, building rooves for homes, holding water, canoes, and as a cradle for our babies. Although we might not be scarring a tree for the same reason as our Ancestors did, the stories and the meanings are still the same. We are connecting with our Culture and Country. Although we are using modern tools, we are continuing our cultural traditions. For Culture to stay alive, we must adapt to new technology. Human beings are storytellers – it is our story that stays alive, it is not just about the axe you are using, it is the story you are telling”.

For an Elder, there is a cultural responsibility to hand down knowledge to their children and community. Uncle Mick Harding runs an art business called ‘Ngarga Warendj’ – it’s a family business with his wife and two sons.  He took on an art commission as a way of teaching his sones how to ‘scar a tree’.  They spent 10 weeks on Taungurung Country, over a 6–7-month period creating a series of scar trees as part of the ‘Art on the Great Victoria Rail Trail’ project on Taungurung Country. They found over 200 trees they could scar but scarred and carved 20.  Uncle Mick says “Being able to be on Country with my sons, teaching them how to scar a tree is something I just cannot explain. Being with each other as a family, bonding and learning, it is just something that today’s society doesn’t allow for anymore, so this was really nice to complete, and at the end of the project both my sons were really confident in scarring trees.”

CMTs are part of a living landscape and living story that we should all be proud of as Australians. The work that the Taungurung cultural heritage team does to protect cultural heritage for current and future generations is often challenging but necessary and rewarding work.  wawa biik believes education plays an important role in cultural heritage protection too. The more people that know and care about culture, the more advocacy and support there will be for cultural heritage protection.

If you’re interested in learning more about the living cultural landscape of Taungurung Country, join our upcoming wawa biik small group experiences which are led by our knowledgeable guides.  

Image: Uncle Shane pictured with a CMT

Book via www.wawabiik.com.au