Tides of Change

When we were about 700 years old and our trunks had achieved diameters of a metre or more, the ancestors of the Maori people landed in the harbour not far below our ridge.

Canoes and culture

Over the next 50 years or so, we watched them clear the coastal forest for their settlements and gardens. Then one day a group of Maori climbed our ridge. With adze and fire, they felled one of my companions. With chanting and ritual, they dragged his trunk out of the forest. For many years afterwards, we saw him putting out to sea, transformed into a carved and decorated waka (canoe) paddled by many warriors.

Courtesy Alexander Turnbull Library (copyright) Over the years, other Maori came to collect gum from amongst our roots. We saw them burn our gum in torches, attracting fish and eels to their spears with its bright light. We saw them burn our gum in the kumara gardens to repel hungry caterpillars. They used the blue-black soot from the gum they burnt to tattoo their skins and adorn their canoes. We watched them pass through our inland forest on their hunting expeditions, returning with many fat kiwi and kukupa, but they left us alone. By the time we reached 1000 years old, we had grown to over 40 metres in height, and our trunks were 2 metres across. Only the Maori priests or tohunga dared come near us now. Our huge stature gave us the high status of chiefs, protecting us. Myths and legends were told about us. They said our trunks were the mighty legs of Tane, Guardian of the forest, at the time of creation. We giant kauri were Tane’s legs that thrust apart the sky father and earth mother who had clung so close together. We kauri separated earth and sky and brought light and life to the world.