THE VANISHING KAURI.

Otago Witness, Issue 3571, 22 August 1922, Page 61

THE VANISHING KAURI.

Bv

F. C. A

(Sec Illustrated Pages.) During the house shortage of the last, few vears, many a prospective builder has waited in vain, in tlie fond expectation that building timber would cheapen oniy to find that prices, for kauri at least, show a tendency to mount higher than ever. The fact* is that the noble kauri pine is making its last stand in a feuremote corners of the far north, and tne time has come to count with regret the immence wastage of this valuable timber that has occurred m the past, and is still going on to a less extent. One ol the giants of the race (such as the one shown in our illustrated pages), whose trunk, some 50ft to the lowest branch, furnished the timber for three large sized dwelling houses. Above this is the whole “head’’ of the tree, including branches up to four feet in diameter, which, as a matter of course was left to moulder in the devastated forest, though containing the materials for three more such houses. Problems of transportation, and the feverish haste t-o apply the fire stick to these magnificent forests, decreed that nothing but the cream, of the timberproduct should reach the mill. The two chief areas where the kauri pine still flourishes m its pristine verdure are the Waipawa and Omohuta State forest®?-both in the Hokianga County. In these leafy fastnesses one could easily forget tlie inevitable fate of New Zealand forests, did he not know that the ominous presence of the timber-measurer’s book had been before him. and that on one of these domains at least the shadow of the axe ■already rests. One cannot visualise, without a pang, the transformation that must ensue whsp these shady retreats, at- present all primeval beauty and solitude, are swept by axe and fire. In travelling the northern peninsulas of New Zealand, the eye is all too accustomed to the sight of those windswept desolations that were once kauri forests. Their characteristic is an impenetrable jungle of bracken, fern, and charred, decaying logs, interspersed- with innumerable dead but upright trunks ot the saplings of young trees, deemed too immature to be utilised. Conspicuous objects for miles, these stand gleaming white in the sun, like tombstones commemorating a departed race of giants. A thousand pities that the all-devouring fires swept up everything that the bushmau left. Had only the marketable timber been taken, nature could have been left to do the grandest work of afforestation, on the grandest scale, and at no cost to the State save in safeguarding from fire. So much for one of New Zealand’s greatest heritages! The double pity of it is that these high ridges and spars are for the most part accessible neither to the plough nor to the grazing beast. Tangled fern covers all, and will for many a year. THE RESIDUE. One may be permitted to hope that the last of our kauri will be made the most of. Too much of it in the past has been put to unsuitable uses. The unfortunate lack of serviceable hard woods has led to kauri being used in immense quantities

for such purposes as bridge-building, mine and battery timbers, wharves, etc., where the heavy eucalypts would have done much better service. The meqrest shacks and cottages have been built of the finest heart of kauiri, and in Auckland at least, the dwellings of oldest date and meanest architecture invariably bear testimony to the lavish use of this splendid timber -in the prodigal past. In traversing more than one unlovely suburb, one cannot suppress a wish to turn backwards the hands of time, and sweep back, with a clean and mighty sweep, all this misused timber to its native haunts on the wind-swept ranges of Coromandel ! From time to time we see the opinion expressed that the planting of native trees, including the kauri, in their natural habitat is the most effective method of re-afforestation. The whole question naturally hinges upon the rate of growth of the trees proposed to be planted. An interesting light is thrown upon this by the presence of a clump of native trees, chiefly rimu and kauri, planted some 40 years ago in the Auckland Domain. Seeing that the largest of them has a long way to go before it reaches a foot in diameter, there is nothing here to flatter our hopes of growing indigenous timber for the rising generation. Nevertheless, there is much of our bush, on the steeper and more broken faces, that should assuredly be left untouched, for it is beginning to die realised that, even as mediocre timber, it is the best crop such land will ever produce. CLIMBING FOR GUM. The industry has come more into prominence of late years as a result of the increasing scarcity and value of all classes of kauri gum. Formerly, tree gum — that is, the recently exuded resin found clinging to the " bark, was little esteemed. Now it is produced in ever increasing quantities, owing to the accepted practice of bleeding the trees. Persons fortunate enough to obtain these rights over some of the State reserves are reported to be getting large returns. It is still a matter for debate how much of this treatment a kauri tree can stand. If a kauri can go on producing gum indefinitely, regularly, and in the quantities averred by some, then the maintenance of a forest should show a credit rather than a debit balance, and the ultimate value of the kauri timber would be whollv profit. It is not every one that would be tem.pted even by large returns to mount into the _ dizzy branches of a towering kauri. The experienced climber, however, armed with toe spikes, and hooks, not unlike bag hooks, in either hand, ascends the trunk with surprising celerity. The toe spikes support‘most of the' weight, while the hand hooks are driven in alternately a s the climber ascends. The chief danger is a possibly treacherous piece of bark, for the tree sheds its bark in cakes. There is no retrieving a false grip, but accidents are remarkably few. Once arrived at the lowest braftch, perhaps eighty feet from the ground the climber begins to gather and place in his bag the cakes and nodules of gum, which are found chiefly in the forks. His most nervetrying task has now only begun for. he proceeds to explore all the main branches, occasionally swinging himself from one to another bv the dexterous use of a coil of pope which he has brought up with him. -Seeing the precipitous places in which the tree sometimes grows, the climber on its extended branches must be prepared to find himself sometimes swinging over the treetops hundreds of feet below. Before quitting the tree he chops with his hatchetadditional wounds in the boughs and trunk with a view to future gains. After a few* days of this work the climbing party will leave the bush with a string ot well-laden pack horses, much to the envy of the old-time fossisker with spade and spear. The latter individual, the orthodox | gum digger, is generally a not-too-well I preserved relic of olden days. Like the lonely bittern and kiwi, he still haunts tlie dismal swamp and the tea-tree-covered slope, “Child of the wilderness (once perhaps), blithesome and free.” The amount of manual work done in the past bv gum diggers is almost incredible, but is forcibly borne in upon one’s mind by the tumbled state of the ground over miles of country, ! wnerever gum exists or a lump was once found ; and gum bearing country embraces perhaps most- of Auckland Peninsula. The gum digger lias much to answer for to the present generation. His incessant fires have deprived the soil of every vestage of humus, ana land that has been the object of his attention costs the settler anything up to £2O per acre to level and plough : but, from the gum digger’s point of view, it was impossible to damage land that was already hopelessly, intrinsically, and irretrievably worthless! However,'the gum digger and his pessimistic views are passing away like a wreath of mist. His chief hunting ground was riot forest land, but regions on which no kauri tree has been known in the memory of man. Here were found, buried in the swampy parts, kauri logs of unknown age, and sometimes rich nests of gum, while gum of higher quality and quite fossil in character was found abundantly on many of the poorest and hungriest pipeclay ridges. This fact should serve as a hint that there is one crop at least that such soil will produce—namely, trees of the pine family, and perhaps tlie time will come when groves of pinns iusiguis, Douglas fir, etc., will form a valuable asset of the Dominion.