The story of The Fred Naden Tree – simply called “Freddie’s Pōhutukawa” by his family – is one of war and homecoming. As the family story goes, in 1906 young Frederick Nehu Naden spotted three pōhutukawa (Metrosideros excelsa) seedlings growing in the sandy cliff near The Gap, at the northern end of Tokomaru Bay. With the help of his mother, he tenderly replanted each seedling – with just one later surviving – painstakingly nurturing them and caring for them during school holidays. When Freddie left to fight in Europe during the First World War as a messenger runner with the Auckland Regiment, it could have been his last goodbye to his family, home and pōhutukawa. But, despite being wounded in Belgium, Freddie returned and vowed to his tree he would never leave his home again which – barring two years stationed elsewhere in New Zealand for the Royal New Zealand Air Force – he didn’t until his passing in 1950 at the age of just 51. Today, the sprawling Fred Naden Tree is a well-known local landmark, flowering every summer and bringing pleasure and beauty to residents of Freddie’s beloved Tokomaru Bay.

With its twin trunks stretched as if they are mid-stride – and wearing high heels! – across the West Coast, near the Karamea Cemetery, is The Walking Tree. With an appearance like one of Tolkien’s sentient, tree-like Ents, it’s easy to see how The Walking Tree got its name. This characterful tree is a northern rātā (Metrosideros robusta), one of Aotearoa New Zealand’s tallest flowering trees – but you might be surprised to learn it begins life as an epiphyte growing upon another host tree, high in the forest canopy. Eventually, the northern rātā’s roots reach the ground and, after many years, envelopes the original host. Northern rātā can live for up to 1,000 years, so who knows how long this windswept walker has been strutting its stuff just north of Karamea.

The celebrated grandmother of Ōtari-Wilton’s Bush, the only public botanic garden dedicated to native plants in Aotearoa New Zealand, Moko has presided over the land for over 800 years. Her te reo Māori name was a gift from mana whenua in 2021, honouring the rimu’s (Dacrydium cupressinum) towering presence in the park and the significance of the land itself – which was a place for bird snaring – to iwi Te Atiawa and Ngāti Tama. The history of the formal park dates back to the 1800s, when farmer Job Wilton fenced off seven hectares of indigenous forest for protection. The reserve was later formalised in the 1920s as an “open-air plant museum,” and today its 100 hectares hold 1,200 native plant species. Even back then, Moko was already several hundred years old – limbs draped in an array of green-grey mosses, ferns and lichens, and her branches playing host to resting kereru, tūī and korimako. In the 1970s, plans to build a road through the land were stymied by architect and environmentalist Robert Fantl, who later set up a bequest to preserve the tree. Moko remains a celebrated attraction in the garden, astonishing visitors with her size, height and beauty.

The Pitau Road Pōhutukawa is the last remaining pre-European pōhutukawa (Metrosideros excelsa) on the Mount Maunganui sandbar, making it at least 400 years old and one of the largest in the region. Its gnarled, twisting branches sprawl across the ground, often propped up by posts and braces to protect it from splits or breakages. It’s so large that Tauranga City Council purchased two residential sections to create a local reserve to preserve this majestic pōhutukawa. According to a 2008 article in the Bay of Plenty Times, the Pitau Road Pōhutukawa holds special significance for mana whenua, with the late kaumātua Dr Kihi Ngatai (Ngāi Te Rangi and Ngāti Ranginui) saying the bodies of the deceased were once ceremonially hung from the pōhutukawa’s branches and later buried beneath its roots. It remains a favourite tree of many Tauranga residents, who have fond memories of climbing its branches or picnicking under its shade.

With its elegant branches just kissing the surface of the water, the striking silhouette of Aotearoa New Zealand’s most-photographed tree has drawn thousands to the shores of Lake Wānaka – it’s popular enough to have its own hashtag: #thatwanakatree (76,000 tags and counting on Instagram). But this willow is more than a digital photography superstar. It began life as a humble livestock fence post over 80 years ago, when a nearby crack willow (Salix fragilis) – yes, that is the common name for this hybrid willow species, so-called for the tendency of its branches to break easily and audibly – was chopped down to form part of the barrier. And then, in a classic symbol of nature’s ongoing resilience, it sprouted, growing to its current height of 7.5 metres. Photographer Dennis Radermacher’s 2014 foggy shot of its reflection in the lake even nabbed him the 2014 New Zealand Geographic Photographer of the Year award for best landscape photograph. Unfortunately, in 2020, vandals hacked off one of its low branches with a chainsaw. That Wānaka Tree inspires adoration and eye-rolling in equal measure. And yet its lonely visage in the water’s shallows and “fencepost-to-fame” backstory continues to inspire people to look at it in new ways.

Not everyone can say they've had a tree planted in their honour. Believed to have been planted in 1864 to commemorate the birth of Catherine Hewlings, this tōtara (Podocarpus totara) takes pride of place on Geraldine's main street, on the site where the town's first house once stood. Catherine was the daughter of Samuel Hewlings and his wife, Nga Hei. Samuel, a young surveyor from England, would later become the first mayor of Timaru. In his earlier years, Samuel played an important role in surveying colonial New Zealand, working in Auckland, the Bay of Islands, and Canterbury. It's likely that Samuel met his wife while working in the Bay of Islands. Records don't provide much information about Nga Hei, other than that she was born in Northland, the daughter of a Ngāpuhi chief. Though the hut burnt down in 1911, the memorial tōtara still stands – now slotted between commercial buildings – commemorating the spot where two people, both very far from home, worked to raise a family and build a town.