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Ecology Action on a Fringe-Urban Hillside |
In a culture that views ecology as the antithesis of economy it is difficult to think clearly about how we live in relation to where we are. Even environmentalists, committed to the rescue of wild places, have failed to address the problem of human ecology in the places we live and work. (James H. Kunstler)
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds and bowers, Of April, May, of June and July flowers (Robt.Herrick)
A great while ago the world began with hey ho the wind and the rain (Shakespeare)
Life depends on eating and being eaten. (Gene Logsdon)
The thirst that from the soul
doth rise, (Ben Jonson)
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Updated 05 February 2008 The Seasons at the Arboretum
Please note that this was written in 2004 and not updated. Most of the
information is still valid, but
A Welcome Foreigner
The California quail is a very welcome and charming replacement for the New Zealand species, long since rendered extinct by imported predators, and is apparently more resilient. On the ground it is equally vulnerable to cats, rats and mustelids (ferrets/stoats), but it has developed more effective defences, particularly through very close-knit family units and a keen sense of approaching danger. Three Streams is becoming a favoured habitat for a growing number of families each year. At least four families have established territories along the driveway and around the house this summer, and there must be many more who do not venture into the open. It is quite a thrill to see a whole family on the drive - Dad with his bobbing crest in front, then the chicks and Mum bringing up the rear. If you move slowly and quietly, they will stay in view for a while. Dad may even fly up onto a high stump or rock or branch to show you how thoroughly he inspects the territory. Sadly, the initial hatching of eight or ten - or more - little bumblebees inevitably reduces with each sighting as predators take their toll, and finally Mum and Dad will be closely guarding the last three - or two – or one - before they are big enough to protect themselves. One Dad is almost a household pet, having been around for several years and proudly bringing his new brood to the front door each year before Christmas for a feed of bread crumbs. Although he will get up on a rock or pot and tap on the ranchslider window to remind me that it is mealtime, he still cannot be approached too closely. Some confidence is expressed when, on a sunny day with a cool breeze, the remaining four chicks sit huddled so close together on the patio that they look like one furry creature, with Mum and Dad standing guard nearby. Afterwards, the family group will move around the lawn pecking for dessert. Blackbirds, thrushes, finches and occasional sparrows try to share in the replenished food supply, and Dad quail quickly shoos them away. But the quail's innate timidity often means they are late on the scene after the table is replenished. About a dozen pohutukawa (Metrosiderous excelsa) have been planted at Three Streams, without much hope that they would thrive in this inland sanctuary with so much shade from existing trees. But they have done well, and this summer several that are now 15-20years old have burst into crimson glory in January, a month later than those in their preferred exposed coastal habitat. Early in December, after an apparently favourable winter and spring, the coastlines around Auckland and Coromandel and Bay of Plenty, including the volcanic Rangitoto Island in the Waitemata Harbour, were ablaze with a particularly vigorous flowering of New Zealand’s “Christmas Tree” and ours have followed, not quite so completely covered but promising for the future. So we will plant more. The species is not confined to New Zealand, flourishing all over the South Pacific up to Hawaii. Colouration varies, the Hawaiian variety, quite dense on volcanic soils, is more of a shrub than a tree, flowering in September-October. Some are more orange than crimson, including the fine specimen at the bottom of the upper lawn here which was a seedling from the grand old tree in the Parnell Rose Garden. It is not long since the species suffered from a decline in New Zealand, giving rise to a continuing campaign of replanting called “Project Crimson” sponsored by Carter Holt Harvey and well supported by schools. Possums appeared to be the enemy, eating young shoots and seedlings. We have had no such problem at Three Streams, where the occasional invasion of a tribe of possums (they migrate) seems to concentrate on any fruit that is ripe in our small orchard, with no sign that the young pohutukawas have been attacked. The Resilient Nikau - Summer - Flowering on stems The Nikau, New Zealand’s only true native palm, is believed to have arrived here from across the Pacific several thousand years ago, and has certainly acclimatised well. Although preferring damp valleys, here in the North it often does well up on hillsides, forming dense groves, providing protection against winds which, especially on the West Coast, will shred its fronds and detract from its appearance. Its wide distribution is mainly due to birds spreading its attractive seed. Slow-growing – up to ten years before it shows a clear trunk, depending on site - it becomes a very beautiful plant form, the clear stem rising every year as dead fronds fall away, and the brilliantly colourful seedheads on the stem adding a unique dimension. This is like no other palm. At Three Streams we planted seedlings along the stream valleys, many of which are now 5 metres high, and then discovered another valuable attribute – nikau is great for holding stream banks! While pongas and mamakus and cordylines undermined by an eroding stream will just fall over, the nikau tends to remain upright, held by a tenacious root system, drop down if unavoidable, and keep growing. After some years our nikau plantings are being supplemented by seedlings washed down from Kauri Grove reserve, a previously unexpected bonus. (So many things happen here as time goes on to gently demonstrate that what we see as our successes may eventually have evolved without us. But they may not have. Bio-immigration, land-form disruption, urbanisation and extinction of species increasingly interrupt and preclude natural programmes.) So if you have a stream to protect, and have perhaps used willows or poplars, try and convert over time to nikaus, kahikatea and pukatea. Think twenty years ahead. Interplant the natives until they are well enough grown to be able to remove immigrants.
Gorgeous Kumerahou “It’s gorse” – “It’s broom” – “It’s buttercups” - No, it’s Pommaderis kumerahou, that golden carpet on the otherwise bare hillside! How underrated and underused is this native pioneer. All it needs is bare ground, a seed source and sunshine, to spring up from autumn on and burst into colour in September-October. Then its delicate green foliage is supplemented by rich seedheads that are easily collected when ripe in December-January. Just keep it down to about a metre after seeding, or it will become too straggly. It will eventually be shaded out by taller vegetation; meanwhile, because it is leguminous, it is doing a valuable job adding nitrogen to the soil (both also attributes of non-native gorse which has the downside of being very unfriendly and hard to eradicate). Kumerahou is an important Maori plant for many therapeutic reasons and is still widely used. We understand that some hospitals use it for soap.
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