African Lovegrass: A Costly Weed Threatening Australian Farms and Fueling Fires

African lovegrass. The name itself sounds almost inviting. Yet, this invasive weed is anything but welcome in the Snowy Mountains of New South Wales. For farmers battling its relentless spread, and fire services bracing for intensified blazes, it’s a growing nightmare. The economic and environmental ramifications are significant.

One Snowy Mountains farmer, Ross Sherlock, spends around $100,000 each year just to keep this aggressive plant somewhat under control on his property. He’s not alone. Other landholders have been forced to abandon their farms entirely. This highlights the severity of the African lovegrass problem.
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Introduced in the late 1920s to stabilize roadsides, African lovegrass has since spread through NSW, southeast Queensland, Victoria, and parts of South Australia. What was initially intended as a solution has morphed into a serious ecological and economic burden.

Sherlock estimates that around 150,000 hectares in the Monaro region are already infested. Worryingly, he predicts this figure could balloon to 250,000 hectares by 2030. Such unchecked growth demands attention.

It’s worth noting that Sherlock has managed to keep one of his properties entirely free of African lovegrass through strict biosecurity measures, proving containment is possible, albeit difficult and resource-intensive. The key seems to be rigorous quarantining of livestock and vehicles.
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The problem doesn’t stop at lost pasture. The NSW Rural Fire Service (RFS) expresses considerable concern. Inspector Langdon Gould notes that African lovegrass creates a highly combustible fuel source, drastically increasing fire risk. This fine grass ignites easily, resulting in faster-spreading, more intense fires that require a greater deployment of resources. In the last bushfire season, it was nearly ten times more likely to ignite compared to native grasses.

“There’s nothing to love about African lovegrass,” Gould laments.

For a while, African lovegrass held a spot on the state’s noxious weeds list, which meant landowners could face penalties for failing to control its spread. However, this “stick” approach proved unsustainable. Resources were stretched thin, and the policy created division within the community.

Now, the focus has shifted toward educating landholders and targeting new weed incursions. Yet, Brett Jones, a biosecurity officer, points to the alarming mental health toll this weed is taking on farmers. The sheer frustration and sense of helplessness are pushing some to the brink.

One of the trickiest aspects of this battle lies in the regulations surrounding native grasslands. These areas, critically endangered, are protected, limiting control options until African lovegrass has already reached a dominant presence of over 50%. This creates a perverse incentive, hindering proactive management and allowing the weed to gain a foothold.

Lachlan Ingram, a senior lecturer at the University of Sydney, explains that African lovegrass typically stays in check with spot-spraying when it covers only 5% of a paddock. It’s all downhill from there: the coverage expands rapidly, soon broadscale control is needed, and eventually, it’s a monoculture.

Narelle Davis, who chairs the local African lovegrass Action Group, argues that these biodiversity laws, while well-intentioned, ultimately hamstring landholders. Their group advocates for legislative changes that permit earlier intervention, even if it means sacrificing some native grass in the short term to save the overall ecosystem in the long run. Landholders, according to Davis, possess crucial insights into how to manage their own land for the best conservation outcomes.

Sherlock echoes this sentiment. He even drafted a farm management plan tailored to his property. Unfortunately, implementing it would currently mean breaking the law. He now faces the tough choice: adhere to regulations and watch native grasslands disappear, or risk penalties to actively conserve them.

The NSW government claims to understand the concerns of landholders and is reassessing its regulatory framework. The Natural Resources Commission is undertaking a review of grassland regulations, holding the promise of future recommendations.

Nearby, the Snowy River Landcare group is attempting something different, funding local property owners to experiment with innovative management strategies. Tineke Tamis, a small-scale producer, is trying soil aeration and native grass reseeding to combat the lovegrass on her property. She was compelled to sell a third of her land after the weed spread and got out of control, so she understands what it is like to be at wit’s end.

However, Coolringdon research farm trustee, Howard Charles, hasn’t yet seen anyone truly conquer African lovegrass. He emphasizes that while it can be managed through traditional methods, farmers need legislative support and financial resources. He believes reaching a point of coexistence, where the weed is limited to manageable patches, is a more realistic goal.

The African lovegrass saga is not just about a single weed. It highlights the delicate balancing act between conservation, agricultural productivity, and community well-being. Finding the right approach will require adaptive strategies, community-driven initiatives, and an acknowledgement of the profound impacts these policies have on the landholders.

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Keywords: African lovegrass, invasive weed, Australian farms, fire risk, weed control, grassland regulations, biosecurity measures, NSW Rural Fire Service