Some Native Trees

Forest and Bird, Issue 138, 1 November 1960, Page 6

Some Native Trees

Address by Rev. Father C. J. Callaghan, S.M., to the Hastings-Havelock North Section

It is a fortunate occasion when speaker and audience are at one in their wishes. You come to hear about some of our native trees, and that is what I wish to speak of. All of you, by your presence here, show that you appreciate our New Zealand trees, and want to know more of them. Of the appreciation of beautiful things we may say what a writer said of spiritual matters: that when it is lacking, it is not missed; but, when we begin to possess it, we at once desire more. We move among people who for the most part do not appreciate the beauty of our native flora, for our New Zealand culture is still deficient in that respect. To encourage us to open our eyes, we may consider two things.

First, it is sub-human to be blind to the beauty of our trees. Animals pass by and beneath them all unknowing; and so do many people on our roads today. Yet there is beauty there, and many have taught themselves to see it, and so may we- Folk who go to art galleries and not to the bush may persuade themselves and others that they are cultured; but the sense of beauty cannot be adopted for an occasion or to impress others; and if it seems to be receptive only to the works of man it is suspect. For God is the great artist, and He is the first gardener, as Chesterton says. Through the ages He continues his work, and in our land He has planted a garden which many other lands might envy.

Secondly, the bush is a community of living beings. Each plant has its characteristics, its personality of a sort. I wish to introduce you to some of them, first, some of the rakau rangatira, the lordly trees.

1. The white pine or kahikatea. Bushmen not botanists named our pines. The kahikatea has no cone or needles- It has a tiny nut, set on top of a kind of fruit. It is a podocarp, which means “foot fruit”. The stalk or stem (peduncle) holding the fruit becomes fleshy, forming a kind of berry; so we can think of it as a tiny fruit, with the stone set on top of it. This is the fashion in which the yew carries its seeds. The name of yew is Taxus, so our podocarps and dacrydiums are taxads (of the yew family).

This type of seed is seen on the kahikatea, the totara, the rimu. These three are dioecious (single sexed); so it is only on the female plant that the seeds are to be found. They are like tiny Chinese lanterns, the rich crimson of the berry contrasting with the black or dark-blue nut on top of it. The male flowers are small cone-like catkins and are, of course, borne on the male tree only.

These tiny fruits are not concealed, but are set off by the foliage; for both the kahikatea and the rimu have tiny scale-like leaves- These overlie the branchlets and stand out only slightly at their pointed ends; and the totara has thin, needle-like leaves.

The kahikatea is best seen in the early adult stage, say, at 20 to 30 feet in height. Its outline is a regular, tapering cone. Its foliage is of an attractive dark green; its branchlets are numerous and delicate, suggesting the intricacy of a lace pattern. In full maturity its foliage appears greyish, and is massed towards the top in the umbrella pattern usual with our large trees. At this stage the trunk is its most remarkable feature, massive and hardly tapering for a great height. It is our tallest tree, 60 to 100 feet; sometimes 150, with record specimens over 200. Captain Cook was so impressed with one in the Thames area that he recorded its measurements: it was 19ft. Bin. in circumference 6ft from the ground, and 89ft to its first branch; it was straight as an arrow, and tapered little. Its bark is a greyish brown. Like some other trees, the kahikatea has a distinctive juvenile form. Instead of the small scale-like leaf, it then has leaflets growing in two opposite rows along its branchlets and on its stem. These are at first a brilliant green, but later turn bronze as the sapling struggles towards the light. At this stage the juvenile in deep bush is unattractive; but in cultivation, with sufficient light, it need not be so. All our taxads are rain-forest trees; but the kahikatea especially is a water lover, growing in swamps or by rivers. The Riccarton bush in Christchurch is an instance of a kahikatea forest growing in former swamp land in an area whose rainfall was too low for other types.

This tree when mature sometimes grows buttresses at its base, especially in swamp land. It is a common tree in Hawke’s Bay bush in high-rainfall areas- Ball’s Clearing is full of magnificent specimens. Kirk has words that apply to that splendid forest: “A virgin kahikatea forest affords one of the most striking sights in New Zealand forest scenery. Straight unbranched trunks rise one after the other in endless series, and in such proximity that at a short distance no trace of foliage is visible overhead or in the immediate vicinity of the observer; the naked and symmetrical shafts, tapering imperceptibly, appear to form dense walls which shut out every glimpse of the outer world.” Also within reach of here, White Pine Bush in the upper Tongoio valley is another but poorer example.

The Maoris valued the kahikatea, for birds were attracted to its berries; and they ate the berries and the birds too. They called the yellow heart wood “mapara”; from fallen trunks they took pieces for spear heads; and as it was highly resinous they used it for torches.

2. The totara was also a common tree in Hawke’s Bay. It has no juvenile form, though its leaves are often longer on seedlings. Mature leaves are under an inch in length, narrow and pointed or spiked. Browsing animals leave it alone; and so do people after they have grasped it once. The leaves grow commonly in two rows along the branches, though as they point different ways this is not readily noticed. The foliage of the mature tree is a dull brown, of young ones sometimes bronze; but young shoots and leaves are a bluish green. The bark is distinctive, being brown and fibrous and deeply furrowed; it peels and hangs in thin papery ribbons, and it can be cut and removed in sections, as the Maoris knew.

The totara often grew in stands where conditions suited it. On the heavier rain belt on the east of Hawke’s Bay totara forest was felled for 50 years on end. It is found scattered in mixed bush; but till it overtops the lower growth it does not thrive, as it cannot compete with broad-leaved trees in the sparse and indirect light of dense bush. I fancy it liked best the light but rich soil of old river beds; it is still to be seen surviving in such places in Hawke’s Bay and in the upper Hutt River valley, for instance. In early maturity it forms a pleasing rounded

mass set on a bare trunk, the image of sturdy and hardy vigour- Though not especially attractive close at hand, it has a sturdy grace of form which is good to see, and which never tires.

Its fruit resembles that of the kahikatea; its berry is bright red, but it often fails to develop, or develops late. A good crop of berries is, I believe, unusual.

It is a noble tree, sometimes exceeding 100 feet in height, with a trunk 2 to 6 feet in diameter. Just as it lacks commonly the pyramidal growth of the other podocarps in the early adult stage, so in advanced maturity it lacks the umbrella effect; rival trunks spread to the sky when unhindered, giving it a vast spread above and gaining for its narrow leaves the maximum of light and air.

There are other totaras. Hall’s totara has larger leaves, but is much smaller in height and girth. In these latitudes it grows at higher levels than the true totara, and in the extreme south it is the only form. The two species hybridise; some consider Hall’s only a variety. It has thinner, papery bark. In parts of Marlborough there is a form called the narrow-leaved totara.

The alpine totara or snow podocarp grows from 2 to 8 feet only. It forms masses by taking root from its branches, and thus binds the hillside. Its leaves are dark green, thick and leathery, not resembling the totara leaves. Its berries can be eaten —but you have first to climb for them, between 2,000 and 4,000 feet.

3. The rimu, as a young tree, with its excessively weeping habit or form, is our finest, and one of the most handsome in the world. It is a Dacrydium (which means “teardrop”—a reference, Professor Wall says, to the drops of resin, but more likely to the hanging fruit). Its species name is cupressinum, “cypress-like ”

Like the kahikatea, it has leaves reduced to scales, pointed and prickle-like, which clothe the branches and the trunk when young. They are a light pale green, becoming a deeper green later. To its striking beauty of form is added that of colour: in the bush the young rimu has a rich, glowing shade of green that catches and holds the eye. In the mature tree the hint of yellow in the mature foliage helps us to recognise the tree. The mature tree attains a height of 60 to 80 or even 100 feet, and its trunk a diameter of 2 to 5 feet. It is a rain-forest tree, abundant

expecially in Westland, in the centre of the North Island, and in the Urewera, but widely spread. It is often the dominant tree, but it flourishes in mixed forest. Its bark is dark brown, scaling off in large flakes. 4. The matai is called Podocarpus spicatus (its flowers grow along the sides of a spike of flower stem). The young tree is hardly handsome, but very striking. While its main stem shoots up straight as an arrow, its branchlets grow at all angles, forming a tangled pattern; and the leaves, growing sparingly on these, give it a half-stripped appearance. The leaves are narrow, less than half an inch long. On the young plant they are reddish brown, often bluish beneath. As it develops, at a height of 12 feet or so, the matai is transformed. Books say that both the Maori and the early settler failed to identify it with the juvenile form, though it is hard to believe; you may find specimens with juvenile growth below and the adult growth above it. It becomes a densely leaved tree of striking and distinctive form and foliage. Its outline tapers, but not so narrowly as the kahikatea; its leaves become a rich dark green, with a hint of blue; the under sides of the leaves are decidedly bluish. As a mature tree it is easily recognised by its bark; it is dark, and peels off in small rounded flakes, leaving crimson blotchesEven when these fade the peeling gives the impression of numerous rounded dents in the bark. The mature tree is shorter and narrower than our other great trees. Its wood is so hard and lasting that fallen trunks lie undecayed for very many years. One account tells of a log over which broadleaf trees had grown. The broadleaf was calculated to be 300 years old; yet when it was removed the matai was recovered and split for fencing posts. The fruit of the matai is like a tiny plum.

5. The miro rivals the rimu as a handsome plant when young. It has been described as fern-like; its long, narrow, curving leaves are a glossy green, soft in texture and gracefully tapering, growing in two rows, spreading like fern leaflets. Its branchlets spread wide, drooping at the tips. I have never seen a plant in the bush that gives so much the impression of being a garden specimen.

As it grows, its leaves change little; they become smaller and tough-looking, but still

curve slightly. They closely resemble the leaves of the matai, but are green on both surfaces, not bluish beneath. Its name is Podocarpus ferrugineus (rustcoloured). The bark of the mature tree is dark, peeling off in flakes, and it develops a narrow, rounded head. Its resin is said to be good for wounds, as bushmen knew (a case of healing the hand that bites you). Its fruit is notable. It is like a small plum, crimson, with a waxy powder which gives a delicate bloom. Pigeons are fond of it-