The story of Windradyne, a revered First Nations warrior, is finally being brought to life through a heartfelt composition by country artist Troy Cassar-Daley — but here's where it gets controversial... For many, Windradyne remains a legendary figure whose legacy deserves wider recognition, yet his story isn't as commonly known as it should be. Troy Cassar-Daley, renowned for his deep connection to Australian history and storytelling through music, recently chose to honor this remarkable man in a very personal way.
Cassar-Daley admits that he had never heard of Windradyne until the day he saw the warrior's name tattooed across his cousin's shoulders. Curious, he asked his relative about it, struggling to pronounce the name — a clear sign of how unfamiliar the history still is to many Australians today.
His cousin explained that Windradyne was a formidable warrior from the Bathurst region who fiercely fought for the freedom and safety of his people. This revelation left Cassar-Daley feeling both surprised and somewhat ashamed that he had previously known so little about such an important Indigenous leader. Determined to learn more, he delved into history sources, including 'Windradyne,' a book written by his cousin’s mother, Mary Coe, which details Windradyne's life and the broader context of Wiradjuri history.
Although Cassar-Daley is not of Wiradjuri descent himself, his years of travels and musical collaborations with the Wiradjuri and surrounding communities have fostered a powerful connection to the land and its ancestral stories. Inspired, he decided that the most authentic way to honor Windradyne's legacy was through music — by composing a song that captures his spirit and struggles.
"Storytelling has always been a major element of my life," Cassar-Daley explains during an episode of ABC iview's When the War is Over. "I come from a lineage of storytellers — uncles and aunties — and I've simply taken that gift and woven music into it."
The Warrior’s Journey: From Peace to Resistance and Back
When European colonizers arrived on Wiradjuri lands, the landscape was initially described as resembling ‘parkland,’ with lush pastures and open plains used for grazing. Elder Dinawan Dyirribang, also known as Uncle Bill Allen, recalls that for thousands of years, his people had shaped the land with firestick farming, maintaining its vibrant ecosystems.
The area near Bathurst was Windradyne’s homeland, a place with deep cultural significance. According to Coe's account, early interactions between Wiradjuri people and settlers were peaceful; the indigenous guides helped explorers navigate the land without disturbance to sacred sites or hunting grounds, and peaceful coexistence appeared possible.
However, this harmony was short-lived. As the number of colonizers increased rapidly after Governor Thomas Brisbane issued 'tickets of occupation' in the early 1820s, vast tracts of Wiradjuri country — over 100,000 acres — were handed over, leading to an influx of cattle and sheep. Such rapid land takeovers severely impacted the region's food sources; kangaroos and emus, staples for the Wiradjuri, began to disappear.
Two pivotal incidents escalated tensions further. One involved arsenic-laced damper left as a trap for Windradyne's people near what later became known as 'Murdering Hut,' and the other was the killing of Wiradjuri harvesters—including relatives of Windradyne—by colonizer Antonio Jose Rodrigues. In response, Windradyne led retaliatory attacks against the settlers, who responded with brutal violence, including killing Wiradjuri women.
By August 1824, the conflict known as the Bathurst War had intensified, prompting Governor Brisbane to declare martial law and deploy military forces into the region. But what makes Windradyne’s story especially compelling is that he was not just a fighter — he was also a peace advocate. Cassar-Daley highlights the fact that in December 1824, Windradyne, who was wanted dead with a reward of 500 acres of land on his head, boldly walked into Parramatta to negotiate a truce.
In a remarkable act of bravery and diplomacy, he presented himself at the Governor’s annual feast, wearing a hat emblazoned with the word 'peace,' essentially declaring his desire for reconciliation. His offer to seek peace was accepted, and Governor Brisbane formally pardoned him.
"He journeyed from Bathurst to Parramatta — over 200 kilometers — just to show that he was still resisting but also open to dialogue," Cassar-Daley shares. "What really moved me was that Windradyne was not only a staunch warrior but also a political negotiator. He represented resilience and a desire for coexistence."
A Heartfelt Tribute and the Full Circle of History
Windradyne’s final resting place is marked by a quiet, revered patch of land in a paddock on a property called Brucedale. The Suttor family, early settlers of Bathurst who sought peaceful relations and actively learned the Wiradjuri language, offered this land as Windradyne’s burial site. This act of respect symbolizes the complicated history of Indigenous and settler relations — a story of conflict, reconciliation, and remembrance.
On a chilly morning, Cassar-Daley stands alongside proud descendants like Dinawan Dyirribang and David Suttor, to pay tribute through his music. With reverence, he mentions that last year was a heavy burden emotionally — a period of trying to find healing, and the song he’s now singing feels like part of that process.
"My full-circle moment today is sharing this song with Windradyne himself — that would mean my journey is complete," the singer explains, donning a possum skin cloak, embodying the land’s deep history.
Beyond his own healing, Cassar-Daley hopes this song will inspire others to learn about Windradyne and his courageous stand. He emphasizes the importance of artists in keeping legacy alive: "We have a responsibility to keep that fire burning, to gather the wood — which is the stories and songs — and keep it alive for future generations."
Singing softly, his voice echoing across Wiradjuri land, he delivers a tribute:
"My name is Windradyne
They call me Saturday
Come Sunday, I’ll be gone
In the bush, I melt away
I fought for my people
On this country where I lay
My name is Windradyne
Remember me that way..."
As the final notes drift across his sacred resting place, Cassar-Daley quietly reflects, "It's arrived. Finally."
This story isn’t just about history — it’s about the ongoing journey of reconciliation, identity, and the power of storytelling. And here’s the question: Do you believe stories like Windradyne’s should be more widely recognized, or are there perspectives that still challenge this narrative? Share your thoughts below.
