The Comeback Kids!

If you ever want to understand the impact of a single, practical decision, stand on either side of a fence. On one side, a bush remnant is quiet. The canopy remains, but beneath it the forest floor is open. Seedlings are sparse. The next generation of ngahere is struggling to establish. Leaves are browsed, trunks are rubbed, and what should be a layered ecosystem becomes thin and static. 

On the other side of that same fence, the story is different. 

The understorey is dense. Ferns, shrubs, vines, and saplings fill the space. Seedlings crowd the forest floor. Light filters through layers of growth. The forest is active, structured, and renewing itself. 

This contrast is one of the clearest insights to emerge from the Rapid Biodiversity Assessment (BioRAP) undertaken across Whāngārā Farms as part of He Rau Ake Ake, our 100-Year Whenua Optimisation Plan. It shows, in the most practical way possible, what happens when bush is given the conditions it needs to recover. 

Across our farms, ecologists observed a consistent pattern. In unfenced bush remnants, livestock and browsing pests have gradually removed the forest’s future. Seedlings are eaten before they can establish. Understorey plants disappear. Over time, the canopy ages without replacement, and the forest becomes a snapshot of what once was, rather than a system capable of carrying itself forward. 

Where bush has been protected, however, the response is immediate and visible. 

On Whāngārā B5, a fenced remnant of native forest stood out. Within its boundary, more than 40 native plant species were recorded. Podocarps, broadleaf trees, tree ferns, nīkau, vines, epiphytes, shrubs, and seedlings occupied every layer. The forest had depth, structure, and momentum. It was regenerating. 

As Roger MacGibbon, who oversees biodiversity across our farms, often notes, this kind of recovery does not always require planting. In many places, the seed bank already exists. The roots remain. The ecological memory of the forest is intact. What is needed first is protection. 

Remove the pressure, and the forest responds. 

For whānau, this is a hopeful story. It tells us that our whenua is not depleted beyond repair. It is resilient. It is waiting for the chance to do what it has always done. 

This is why He Rau Ake Ake is grounded in practical, long-term action. Fencing is not symbolic. It is transformative. It protects seedlings at their most vulnerable stage. It allows leaf litter to accumulate, moisture to be retained, fungi to return, and soils to stabilise. It creates the conditions birds need to feed and nest, insects to thrive, and lizards to find shelter. 

A fence is not a barrier to life. It is an enabler. 

The BioRAP makes clear that every unfenced bush remnant across our farms represents a future recovery site. The potential already exists. The whakapapa of the forest has not been lost. It simply requires space. 

This approach is not about turning working farms into reserves. It is about designing land systems that are fit for the long term. He Rau Ake Ake does not ask us to choose between production and protection. It asks us to be deliberate about where each belongs, and how they can reinforce one another over time. 

Healthy bush supports healthy land. It stabilises slopes, filters water, provides shelter for stock, and strengthens ecological corridors across the landscape. It reduces erosion and improves resilience. It is not a cost. It is an investment in the durability of the whole system. 

For partners and funders, this story is equally instructive. It demonstrates that meaningful ecological change can begin with straightforward, scalable actions. It shows that restoration does not always require complex intervention. In many cases, it begins with restraint. 

For our mokopuna, the implications are larger still. It offers a future where ngahere are not rare or fragile, but part of everyday landscapes. Where paddocks and forests sit alongside one another. Where birdsong is ordinary. Where whenua provides both sustenance and life. 

The “comeback kids” of our farms are not just plants. They are whole ecosystems re-establishing themselves. 

Each sapling rising beneath a protected canopy is a signal. Each fern unfurling in shade is a marker of progress. Each bird returning to feed or nest is evidence that the system is functioning again. 

The forest is ready. 

Our task is simple: to give it the conditions it needs to come back.