Still, as always, the last, least and loveliest New Zealand archipelago surrounded by sea and seabirds, the Chatham Islands (Rēkohu and Rangihaute) seemed to exist as a kind of South Seas utopia with its nine Moriori tribes observing a permanent truce where murder was forbidden, until its peace was shattered with the arrival of European ships and, worse, the Taranaki killing parties led by the chiefs of Ngāti Mutunga and Ngāti Tama. “For the past 200 years,” former Chathams mayor Alfred ‘Bunty’ Preece has remarked, “the story has been one of plunder.” He included in his devastating statement the loss of native forest. There is a terrible poignancy to the photograph illustrating this story with Moriori in front of forest before it was burned and cleared.
The population is now estimated at about 600. Political change is complex. There was a Treaty settlement of $18 million in 2023, but issues of redress remain unresolved amid Moriori litigation. Regional Development Minister Shane Jones came bearing promises when he visited the Chathams in April last year with a hiss and a honk ( his delegation included a brass band), but reporting from Newsroom’s Jonathan Milne in April this year has pointed to economic collapse. He was told there were abandoned cars piling up all over the island that no one could afford to move, and that there was no money to fix potholes in the road: “What they get is a grant from Internal Affairs every year, several million dollars that basically keeps the wheels turning, but they say even that isn’t enough and they are struggling to deliver.”
There are other, happier signs of recovery. Two recent books from the Chatham Islands, backed by enterprising publishers, confirm a revived culture. In 2024, Bateman published an excellent kids book Ten Nosey Weka, written by Kate Preece and illustrated by Isobel Joy Te Aho-White. It’s a trilingual children’s book (written primarily in English) that teaches readers to count to 10 in ta rē Moriori. As Preece wrote in a story in ReadingRoom, “Despite misconceptions, ta rē Moriori is not a dialect of te reo Māori. It existed prior to the arrival of Māori in 1835. It is being reinvigorated, and the Hokotehi Moriori Trust (HMT) is leading the way.”
The latest publication is the very beautiful hardback Manaka Mai. It’s the first extensively illustrated book of Chatham plants ever produced, with 34 paintings by artist Patricia Thorpe, and text by her daughter, archaeologist Susan Thorpe, with botanist Tim Park, and ecologists Matt Ward and Bart Cox. Huzzah, too, to Paraparaumu-based firm Steele Roberts for a quality publishing job on good paper with full-page illustrations.
The book is a testament to the “recloaking” of the Chathams. Maui Solomon writes in the preface that the loss of native forest stripped the landscape: “It was naked.” Replanting began in 2012. There are an estimated 46 endemic plants on the Chathams. The most famous graces the cover of Manaka Mai – the achingly pretty Chatham Islands forget-me-not (Myosotidium Hortensia), a common attraction at garden centres throughout New Zealand. Me want. It’s an evergreen with a spray of blue flowers in spring.
The very first painting in the book is another Chatham icon, the kōpī, or karaka tree. Moriori brought it with them when they sailed to the island, and its fruit is credited with maintaining the population in much greater numbers (reaching about 2,000) than Māori south of Kaikōura. “They were a major source of carbohydrates,” writes Susan Thorpe. “After a long soaking in fresh water, the cooked and dried kernels could be stored for more than a year….Without them Moriori may not have sustained long-term settlement on the archipelago.” Behold the tree of life, below.
There are numerous references in Manaka Mai to the relationship between plants and birds on the Chathams but much of the story of island birds is another sorry tale of plunder. In their 1923 handbook The Animals of New Zealand, Hutton and Drummond publish a photo of the nest of the endemic Chatham bellbird, with a few blithe notes (“Its note is said to be much richer and fuller than that of the New Zealand species.”) But by 1930, in his ornithological classic New Zealand Birds, Oliver writes, “They were reported in 1896 as ‘going fast’ by a collector, who shot all he could for monetary gain…Its distribution was formerly abundant. Now extinct.” Other extinctions include the endemic fernbird. Oliver recounts its pathetic death: “This species was discovered by Mr Charles Traill in 1868. Traill observed a small bird among the grass and stunted vegetation and knocked it over with a stone….Through burning and the introduction of cats, the fernbird became extinct about 25 years after its discovery.” Maybe it was once going about its business in speargrass, painted by Patricia Thorpe, below.
For some 400 years Moriori lived on the Chatham Islands without seeing anyone else. They communed with old gods and unmolested birds in a cold, misty, oceanic paradise. They carved fantastical artworks into the living bark of the kōpī tree, and men practised romantic gestures such as slipping a circle of fragrant sweetgrass beneath the sleeping mat of the woman of their dreams. Susan Thorpe and her authors have reinstated ta rē Moriori for the endemics in Manaka Mai, such as the Tarahīnau, or Chatham Island grass tree, below.
There is a curious gigantism at work in some Chatham endemics. Pūhā and button daisies grow to 2m. But there are continuing threats to plants now considered endangered. The culprits are pests, as well as the proliferation of weeds including gorse, thistle, blackberry, and particularly Chilean guava, or cranberry, an aggressive expert at elbowing out indigenous vegetation. Death to these jokers. Life to the Chatham asters, as below.
There are no lichens, mosses, flax, or seaweeds in Manaka Mai. “We simply had to stop somewhere.” Volume 2 is in order, although that might be asking a bit much of Patricia Thorpe, who is 94. On her way to the island for the book launch, she fell and broke her arm and her foot. “It didn’t stop her signing 40 copies, in green ink (the colour of hope according to Neruda),” Susan Thorpe emailed. I asked how her mum was getting on since the fall. “Mum has a new fiberglass cast and feeling better.” Get well soon, Patricia! Your work is so pretty, as per the koromiko below.
Such a lovely book. In his foreword, Peter De Lange, chair of the Chatham Island Conservation Trust, gently allows that the paintings are “perhaps not as technically correct (‘dry’) as a technical botanist might like.” But he also acknowledges they bring the plants to life. He concludes, “I have seen the impressive efforts Chatham Islanders have made and continue to make to restore the mouri and manawa of their islands. This book will help further advocate this cause. Not only by the reinstatement of ta rē Moriori names for the plants but by demystifying the science of plant names and descriptions into a medium that can he enjoyed by all.” As someone who has never set foot on the islands (although I’ve thought about it ever since flying to Whanganui on the only airline that goes to the Chathams), I declare that I love this book for its glimpse into another world. Recommended, heartily; it’s one of the best illustrated books of 2026.
Manaka Mai: Plants of the Chatrtham Islands, with paintings by Patricia Thorpe, edited by Susan Thorpe (Steele Roberts, $40) is available in bookstores nationwide.
