MOMENTS ago we were driving along past stringy-barks and scribbly gum trees, before stopping the car to admire the view of Sydney shimmering 50 kilometres to the north-east. But now, as we approach the “secret location”, my guide Trish Meagher goes all cloak-and-dagger on me. “Try to forget where this place is,” she says as we scramble down a slope, pushing past scrubby bush plants and eucalyptus branches.
Suddenly I spot what we have come to see: a Wollemi pine. Dubbed the “pinosaur”, the Wollemi is one of the world’s oldest and rarest trees. It was discovered only a decade ago, and there are fewer than 100 in the wild, at last count. The tallest Wollemi measures 40 metres and is thought to be 1000 years old, but the specimens I’m admiring still have some growing to do. At only about 4 metres tall, they are nevertheless a remarkable testament to the efforts of the botanists striving to preserve this extraordinary species.
The trees I saw, in a hidden corner of Mount Annan Botanic Garden near Sydney, Australia, were grown from cuttings taken from the wild population by Meagher, a horticultural researcher at Mount Annan, and her colleagues. On 23 October, 292 smaller, potted versions of these “first generation” Wollemis will be auctioned at Sotheby’s in Sydney. “We hope to raise between A$700,000 and A$800,000,” says Mark Fraser, managing director of Sotheby’s Australia. This sale is a radical step, but it’s just the start. If all goes to plan, Wollemis will soon be on offer in garden centres around the globe, raising funds to help preserve the tree’s natural habitat.
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The Wollemi pine is the tree world’s very own A-list celebrity. Since it came to light in 1994, Wollemi-mania has gripped plant enthusiasts. It began with the compelling story of the tree’s discovery by David Noble, a project officer with the New South Wales National Parks and Wildlife Service (NPWS). He had been exploring a 400-metre-deep rainforest gorge in the Wollemi National Park outside Sydney when he stumbled across a stand of strange, tall conifers with pretty, fern-like foliage and dark bubbly bark that reminded him of Cocoa Pops cereal. They turned out to be a new genus, a member of the ancient Araucariaceae family of conifers that covered the southern hemisphere between 250 and 30 million years ago, before climate change led to their decline. For the residents of Sydney, it was like finding a small dinosaur alive and well in their backyard (èƵ, 6 December 1997, p 36).
“Since the tree came to light in 1994, Wollemi-mania has gripped plant enthusiasts”
But botanists at NPWS and the Royal Botanic Gardens in Sydney knew that fame comes at a price: plant hunters would want their own piece of Wollemi memorabilia, such as seeds or young shoots. With so few trees in the wild and virtually no genetic variation among them, the Wollemi could be wiped out in an instant. Plant hunters or curious hikers could bring disease into its fragile home or destroy its habitat. “They grow in thin soil on top of rock,” explains Tony Kirkham, head of the arboretum at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, UK. “One slip could take out several metres of soil and possibly saplings and seeds.”
The botanists knew they would have to go to extraordinary lengths to protect their new star and in 1998 put a survival plan into action. The trees’ exact location is a fiercely guarded secret and anyone caught disturbing them can be fined A$220,000. Only a select few people are allowed to visit the pines and they must sterilise their shoes and equipment to avoid bringing weeds and pathogens with them. The plan also includes DNA analysis and ecological studies. Seeds collected from the wild trees are kept in a safe at Mount Annan. And Meagher’s team has grown hundreds of tiny Wollemi pines from cuttings, seeds and tissue cultures. So if the wild population were wiped out, the trees could be replaced with a genetic match.
But the most radical part of the plan was the decision to propagate the pines and sell them in garden centres. By making the trees widely available, the hope is that no one will enter the Wollemi wilderness. But commercialisation has been a bit of a gamble.
In 1997 the team at Mount Annan was struggling to propagate Wollemi pines. Only a fraction of the cuttings established: the rest failed to grow roots. “It wasn’t commercially viable,” says Barbara McGeoch of Birkdale Nursery, which together with Queensland’s Department of Primary Industries (Forestry) won the contract to propagate the trees. The partnership, known as Wollemi Australia, has spent eight years mastering the art of propagation at its purpose-built facility near Brisbane. Now the trees are also grown in licensed nurseries in Japan, the UK, New Zealand, Canada and the US. The aim is to have 500,000 trees ready for sale from April 2006.
But if you can’t wait until then, or you absolutely must have a “first generation” Wollemi, then get yourself down to Sotheby’s. Each tree in the auction can be traced to its parent in the wild and will come with a certificate of provenance. Known as the “collectors’ edition”, they will be sold as 148 lots, ranging from single trees to an avenue of 20. The potted pines are up to 6 years old and a maximum of 3 metres tall. Sotheby’s has set a guide price of A$1500 to A$2500 for singles and up to A$50,000 for a set that includes a tree propagated from each of the 15 wild trees from which cuttings have been taken. But with enormous interest from gardeners in Europe and Asia, and fierce telephone bidding expected, Fraser believes the price could go much higher on auction day.
US import restrictions on plants taller than 50 centimetres mean that none of the collectors’ edition will be taking up residence there. But they could end up almost anywhere else in the world. Luckily, they are proving remarkably easy to cultivate once established. In the wild, Wollemis grow in thin, acidic soil and are in direct sunlight for just an hour or so each day. Yet the trees also seem to flourish with additional sunlight and alkaline soil, and they respond well to fertiliser. Hardiness trials at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC show that they can survive winter temperatures as low as -12.6 °C and in Oman they are growing in blistering heat of up to 60 °C. Even the 31 trees acquired by the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, are doing well in the soggy British climate.
It is hard to find a conservationist with a bad word to say about the Wollemi initiative. Although some question whether Wollemi-mania will be long-lived, most applaud the fact that commercialisation will pay for the tree’s survival. Sales are expected to generate over A$1 million over the next five years – money that will be ploughed back into conserving the Wollemis, their habitat and other rare plants.
So is commercialisation the future for endangered plants? “Sadly there are not many cases where this technique could work,” says Paul Matthew, a tree specialist at the World Conservation Union. He points out that there are thousands of threatened plants that simply do not make good garden plants or are more valuable as firewood. Unfortunately, not all plants can have the star qualities that have catapulted the Wollemi pine to the dizzy heights of fame.
