Across the grasslands and open woodlands of southeastern Australia, a small yellow flower once marked the presence of one of the region’s most important foods.
Known as murnong, or the yam daisy, the plant produces an edible underground root that sustained Aboriginal communities for countless generations. Women and children harvested the roots with digging sticks, collecting them from carefully managed landscapes across areas now known as Victoria, New South Wales, South Australia, Tasmania and the Australian Capital Territory.
Cooked murnong could become soft, sweet and nourishing. Its leaves were also edible, and its bright yellow flowers appeared in such abundance that early European observers described plains covered with them.
Within only a few years of European pastoral expansion, however, sheep, cattle and introduced plants devastated many of the murnong grounds. A staple food that had shaped Aboriginal diets, seasonal movement and land management nearly disappeared from much of its former range. Today, First Nations communities, researchers, conservationists and native-food growers are working to restore both the plant and the knowledge surrounding it.
Murnong is therefore more than an unusual root vegetable. It is a food that reveals the sophistication of Indigenous agriculture—and the enormous cultural consequences of its destruction.
A Daisy with Food Beneath the Soil
Murnong belongs to the daisy family, Asteraceae.
Above ground, the plant produces a rosette of narrow green leaves and a slender flower stalk topped with a bright yellow bloom. The flower can resemble a small dandelion, although murnong is a distinct group of native Australian plants.
Below the surface, the plant develops an elongated, edible storage root. Depending on the species, growing conditions and age of the plant, the root may be narrow and finger-like or thicker and more rounded.
The botanical identity of murnong has caused considerable confusion. Older publications often classified the principal lowland food plant as Microseris lanceolata or Microseris scapigera. Botanical research published by the Royal Botanic Gardens Victoria reinstated the name Microseris walteri for the lowland, spring-flowering plant most strongly associated with the traditional name murnong. Other related Microseris species are also called yam daisies and were eaten in parts of southern Australia.
The word murnong comes from Woi-wurrung, the language of the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin Nation. Other Aboriginal language groups have their own names for the plant, reflecting its wide distribution and cultural importance across southeastern Australia. The City of Melbourne describes murnong as a plant rooted—both literally and culturally—in the history of the Melbourne area.
One of Southeastern Australia’s Great Staple Foods
Before British colonization, murnong was not merely an occasional food gathered when other resources were scarce.
It was a staple.
Research and historical accounts identify its tuberous roots as an important plant food for Aboriginal peoples across Victoria and New South Wales. In suitable country, murnong grew in extensive stands that could provide substantial quantities of nutritious food.
Early European travelers sometimes encountered landscapes filled with yellow murnong flowers. In the 1830s, surveyor Thomas Mitchell described broad plains in western Victoria where Aboriginal people were gathering roots from highly productive food grounds. Later educational accounts based on those observations describe murnong extending toward the horizon near the Grampians.
Such abundance was not necessarily the result of an untouched wilderness.
Aboriginal communities actively managed grasslands and open woodlands through harvesting, selective digging, seasonal movement and carefully controlled fire. These practices reduced dense competing growth, encouraged desirable food plants and helped maintain productive mosaics across the landscape.
Current research led with Eastern Maar knowledge holders is examining the historical distribution and cultivation systems associated with murnong on Maar Country. The project recognizes that the plant was embedded within Country-specific systems of food production, cultural practice and land management—not simply picked at random from unmanaged ground.
Harvesting with a Digging Stick
Murnong roots were traditionally collected with a sharpened digging stick.
Women were the principal holders of much of the knowledge involved in locating, harvesting and processing plant foods. Children often participated as well, learning when the roots were ready, how to identify the correct plants and how to disturb the soil without destroying future harvests.
A Victorian government cultural-values report describes murnong as a nutritious staple harvested by Aboriginal women and children with digging sticks and then cooked as a root vegetable.
Harvesting could also help maintain the food ground.
When a digging stick loosened the soil around the roots, smaller root sections or plants could remain behind. Soil disturbance created openings where seeds might germinate and reduced competition from tightly packed grasses. The act of harvesting could therefore contribute to renewal when practiced with detailed knowledge of season, place and plant development.
This challenges the simplistic idea that Indigenous people merely wandered through the landscape collecting whatever they happened to find.
Murnong harvesting involved planning, tools, ecological observation and an understanding of how repeated human activity could keep a food-producing landscape healthy.
What Does Murnong Taste Like?
Flavor descriptions vary because several related yam-daisy species have been called murnong and because the roots change with maturity and cooking.
Raw roots may be crisp, mildly sweet or slightly bitter. Cooking softens their texture and can bring forward a richer sweetness.
Experimental archaeology involving yam daisies cooked in a reconstructed Aboriginal earth oven found that the process softened and sweetened the roots. Researchers suggested that the finished food could become especially tender and suitable for people who needed soft nourishment.
Cooked murnong has been compared with:
Sweet potato
Jerusalem artichoke
Parsnip
Radish
Coconut
A mildly sweet, starchy root vegetable
The comparison with yam or potato is convenient, but neither is botanically accurate. Murnong is not a true yam and does not belong to the potato family.
Its root also contains fructans—carbohydrates that can contribute sweetness and behave differently from the starch found in potatoes. Academic research into yam daisies has examined the roots’ composition and their importance as a dependable plant food.
The leaves are edible as well and may be eaten as a salad green, although the underground root has historically been the plant’s most significant food component.
Cooking Murnong in an Earth Oven
One of the most important traditional methods involved cooking the roots slowly in an earth oven.
Earth ovens varied by community and region, but a basic method could involve heating stones or clay elements in a fire, arranging food around the retained heat and covering the oven so that the ingredients cooked gradually.
Archaeological and historical research indicates that murnong was among the plant foods cooked in these ovens across parts of southern Australia. Some oven sites formed lasting mounds containing ash, charcoal and heated clay or stone.
Slow cooking transformed the roots.
Heat softened their fibrous structure, reduced harsher flavors and concentrated their natural sweetness. Historical descriptions suggest that thoroughly cooked roots could become soft and syrupy.
The roots could be eaten soon after cooking or carried for later consumption. Their value came not only from flavor but from their reliability as a substantial source of plant food.
Modern cooks working with legally cultivated murnong may roast, steam or boil the roots. They can be served whole, mashed, added to soups or incorporated into contemporary dishes inspired by native Australian ingredients.
However, these modern applications should recognize that murnong is not simply an exotic vegetable awaiting commercial discovery. Its preparation belongs to living Aboriginal cultural traditions.
For the kitchen: A sturdy vegetable brush can help scrub dirt from potatoes, carrots and other root vegetables before cooking.
A Landscape Filled with Underground Food
European colonists frequently misunderstood the productivity of Aboriginal food systems because much of the crop was hidden beneath the ground.
A field of European wheat is immediately recognizable as agriculture. A managed grassland containing edible roots, seeds, lilies and tubers may appear “wild” to someone unfamiliar with the knowledge used to maintain it.
Murnong formed part of what has been called an underground food economy. The visible flowers indicated a much larger supply of roots beneath the soil.
Aboriginal people knew where different root foods grew, when they were ready and how burning, harvesting and seasonal conditions affected them. They did not necessarily divide the landscape into fenced rectangular fields, but that does not mean the food grounds lacked management.
AIATSIS-supported research describes murnong as a plant of profound cultural and economic importance and emphasizes that colonization had catastrophic effects on Indigenous food practices.
The history of murnong demonstrates how agriculture can take forms that do not resemble European farming.
The Arrival of Sheep and Cattle
The collapse of murnong populations followed rapidly after European livestock entered southeastern Australia.
Sheep and cattle grazed the leaves, trampled the plants and compacted the soil. Sheep could also disturb or consume the underground roots. The open plains where murnong flourished were precisely the landscapes sought by pastoral settlers.
ABC Education summarizes the consequences starkly: extensive murnong fields were destroyed by sheep, with catastrophic effects for Aboriginal people who depended upon them.
The destruction involved more than livestock.
Aboriginal communities were displaced from their food grounds. Traditional burning and harvesting practices were interrupted. Land was fenced, plowed and converted to pasture. Introduced weeds competed with native grassland plants.
Within a remarkably brief period, food landscapes maintained over countless generations were transformed.
Historical accounts recorded murnong becoming scarce around the growing settlement of Melbourne. As the roots disappeared, Aboriginal people lost access to a dependable staple at the same time that settlers were taking control of land, water and other food resources.
The resulting hunger cannot be separated from the broader violence of colonization.
Central Victoria was rapidly divided into pastoral holdings, destroying traditional food sources and contributing to theft, confrontation and frontier conflict.
The Destruction of a Food System
It is easy to describe murnong’s decline as an unfortunate ecological side effect of grazing.
That description is incomplete.
When livestock destroyed the plant, they also damaged the economic foundation of communities whose food systems depended upon it. The loss of murnong contributed to hunger, forced changes in movement and weakened people’s ability to continue living independently on Country.
The disappearance of a staple plant can have consequences comparable to the destruction of grain fields or orchards.
Yet because murnong grew as part of native grasslands, many colonists failed to recognize that they were entering productive food landscapes. The land was often described as empty or unimproved even while it was feeding people.
The plant’s decline therefore illustrates how colonial misunderstanding could become a tool of dispossession.
A landscape judged to be unused could be claimed. A food system that did not resemble European agriculture could be dismissed. When livestock eliminated the food, the resulting dependency could then be portrayed as evidence that the original system had never been productive.
Murnong’s history exposes the falsehood of that cycle.
Why Murnong Became Rare
Several pressures continue to limit wild murnong populations.
Much of the temperate grassland and open woodland in which it once grew has been converted to agriculture, suburbs, roads and industrial development. Remaining patches are often small and isolated.
Introduced grasses and broadleaf weeds compete with the low-growing yam daisy. Changes to fire patterns can allow dense vegetation to suppress it. Grazing animals may consume its leaves or damage the roots before the plant reproduces.
Botanical confusion has created an additional complication. Closely related Microseris species differ in their habitat, flowering period and root characteristics. Conservation work must identify which species and local genetic populations belong in a particular area.
Murnong is now often found in remnant stands and small patches rather than the vast food grounds described in historical accounts.
Its rarity is not evidence that it was always scarce. In many places, rarity is the modern result of habitat destruction and interrupted management.
Revival Through First Nations Leadership
Interest in murnong has grown dramatically, but the most meaningful revival work is being led or guided by Aboriginal communities.
The Murnong on Maar Country project is investigating historical distribution, cultivation systems and cultural practices on Eastern Maar lands. Its purpose extends beyond identifying where a plant once grew. It seeks to understand the relationships among food production, Country, stories and community knowledge.
Other projects are restoring edible-root grounds, propagating local plant material and bringing cultural land management back into damaged landscapes. A collaborative project on the Cumberland Plain is working with Indigenous knowledge custodians to guide the restoration of Aboriginal edible-root grounds in western Sydney.
Murnong has also returned to community gardens, cultural festivals, educational programs and Indigenous-run food projects.
These efforts are not attempts to recreate a frozen version of the past. They are part of living cultures adapting old knowledge to contemporary conditions.
Restoring the plant can support:
Cultural education
Community food projects
Habitat restoration
Native grassland biodiversity
First Nations businesses
Intergenerational knowledge sharing
Recognition of Indigenous agricultural history
The revival is as much about restoring relationships as it is about producing roots.
Murnong in the Modern Kitchen
Chefs interested in native Australian ingredients have begun experimenting with cultivated murnong.
The cooked roots can be roasted until sweet, puréed into soups, served alongside meat or combined with other native vegetables. Their gentle flavor works well with butter, herbs, roasted meats and earthy seasonings.
For the kitchen: A hand blender can make it easier to purée cooked root vegetables directly in the pot when preparing smooth soups.
Young leaves may be used as greens, while the yellow flowers can provide a visual reminder of the plant’s daisy-family origins.
Commercial use, however, remains limited.
The roots are relatively small, and harvesting them by hand requires considerable labor. Plants must also be grown from responsibly sourced material rather than taken from vulnerable wild populations.
Most importantly, culinary promotion should create benefits for First Nations growers and communities rather than separating the ingredient from the people whose knowledge sustained it.
Calling murnong a newly discovered “superfood” would erase its history. The plant was known, cultivated, harvested and valued long before the creation of modern Australia.
It is not new. What is new is the wider public’s willingness to recognize it.
Explore Australian native foods: A book about Australian native foods can introduce readers to the remarkable ingredients and food traditions that have shaped Australian cuisine for thousands of years.
Do Not Harvest Wild Murnong
Wild harvesting is not an appropriate way for most people to experience murnong.
Native grassland remnants can contain threatened plants, culturally important sites and delicate local genetic populations. Removing roots kills or severely damages the individual plant and can reduce its ability to reproduce.
Many populations occur on protected land or private Country where collection is prohibited.
People interested in growing murnong should obtain correctly identified plants or seed from reputable native nurseries, preferably sources that respect local provenance and Indigenous cultural guidance.
Even cultivated plants require accurate identification. The common name yam daisy may refer to more than one Microseris species, and related plants can differ in taste and traditional use.
The responsible path is to support Indigenous growers, authorized native-food producers, botanical gardens and restoration projects.
More Than a Bush Food
Murnong is frequently placed within the broad category of Australian bush foods.
The term can be useful, but it can also make ancient food systems sound like collections of wild novelties.
Murnong was not merely an interesting plant occasionally sampled from the bush. It was a staple crop embedded within systems of knowledge, labor, seasonal planning and land management.
Its harvest required tools. Its abundance depended upon human care. Its cooking involved specialized ovens and shared knowledge. Its destruction produced widespread hunger.
Recognizing those facts changes the story.
The history of murnong is not simply about what Aboriginal people ate. It is evidence of how they managed productive landscapes and how quickly those systems were damaged when access to Country was taken away.
The Yam Daisy’s Return
For generations, a yellow murnong flower signaled that food was growing beneath the soil.
The plant sustained families, shaped harvesting practices and helped support communities across southeastern Australia. Its apparent simplicity concealed an intricate relationship among people, fire, grassland, season and Country.
European livestock nearly erased that relationship from the visible landscape.
Today, murnong is returning.
It is being grown in nurseries, restored to cultural landscapes, studied by researchers and brought back into conversations about Australia’s agricultural history. Aboriginal communities are renewing practices and knowledge that colonization attempted to interrupt.
The revival matters because murnong is more than a root.
It is evidence that the grasslands were never empty. It is a reminder that farming does not always resemble plowed fields. It is a surviving piece of one of the world’s oldest continuing food cultures.
Beneath the small yellow flower lies a powerful story: abundance transformed into scarcity, knowledge dismissed and then rediscovered, and a native Australian staple beginning to grow again.