Tenco is one of New Zealand’s largest exporters of forest products. We have built to this position since 1991 when the company was set up to export lumber to growing Asian export markets. Experience and reputation count; from small beginnings Tenco has become the largest independent exporter of New Zealand lumber and New Zealand’s 4th largest log exporter. Tenco has a regular shipping program of their own log vessels and in combination with these and other ships currently calls at 7 New Zealand ports (5 North Island and 2 South Island).
Tenco buys standing forests. Tenco currently has a number of forests which they purchased at harvestable age to log over a number of years for export and domestic markets. Tenco also regularly buys smaller tracts of forest to harvest immediately or immature forests to hold until harvest time. Tenco is interested in broadening the base of owners from whom it purchases forests and stands of trees. A deal with Tenco is a certain transaction. The owner and Tenco will agree on a value of the tree crop and then Tenco will pay this amount to the owner either in a lump sum amount or on rate per volume unit out-turn from the forest depending on the nature of the tree crop.
Tenco knows there are a lot of farmers who have trees that are close or ready to harvest and will be asking themselves how they should proceed with the sale of their trees. For some farmers the kind of certain transaction with money in the bank could well be appealing. Tenco is actively interested in buying harvestable forests or trees from areas including all the North Island (except the Gisborne and East Coast districts) and Nelson & Marlborough in the South Island .
If you own a forest in this area (16 years and older) and are ready to enter into this kind of agreement Tenco is interested to develop something with you.
Please contact: Josh.Bannan@tenco.co.nz
Work: +64 7 357 5356 Mobile: +64 21 921 595 www.tenco.co.nz
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Tuesday, November 29, 2016
On a visit to Poland in 2006 one of my Polish forester hosts was adamant that plantations of non-indigenous trees could not be as productive as plantations of indigenous trees. Nonindigenous plantations were also at much greater risk. Some overseas foresters, as well as some environmentalists, hold similar opinions.
Why do they hold such negative opinions of plantations of non-indigenous plantations? There is now ample evidence that, if planted on suitable sites, nonindigenous tree species can be very productive.
The experience with plantations in Saxony, Germany in the late 19th Century has been retold countless times. A plantation of Norway spruce, a tree species not normally occurring so far south, had poor growth and general ill-health. This early experience is the probable basis of many objections to plantations of nonindigenous tree species. In addition, plantations worldwide have been established as monocultures and many believe monocultures are not natural, even though there is ample evidence that in the temperate regions natural monocultures are not uncommon – see my comment in the August issue of Tree Grower.
Subsequent research of the site showed that the poor growth and poor health were because the site had limited drainage and waterlogged soils – the roots of the spruce trees were unable to penetrate below the topsoil. The site was totally unsuited to the species. Later research showed that local farmers had for decades removed the fallen needles for animal bedding, thereby depriving the trees of being able to recycle nutrients and therefore contributing to the site decline.
As well as New Zealand’s plantation experience there are many examples of successful plantations of non-indigenous tree species. The most dramatic example of plantation success comes from Brazil. The indigenous forest of the Amazon basin is very slow growing. According to the UN Food and Agriculture Organization, Amazonian mature forests only average 100 cubic metres a hectare of which only 12 cubic metres a hectare can be used. To the south of the Amazon, but north of the Tropic of Capricorn, are the eucalypt pulpwood plantations of Aracruz. There are reports of an annual growth rate of these plantations exceeding 50 cubic metres a year for each hectare. In agriculture there are no concerns about the use of non-indigenous plants or animals. If New Zealand was limited to indigenous flora and fauna there is no way that we could support a population of over four million people. We would be very limited in what we could eat − fern shoots and roots, a few plants, native birds and seafood. We would have almost nothing to export.
Feeding the world
By having access to the biodiversity of the whole world and combined with selective breeding, the world has been able to feed over seven billion people globally. In food production the world has been very selective. The UN Food and Agriculture Organization estimates there are 250,000 to 300,000 plant species globally that could be eaten. However, humans consume only about 200 plant products. Although the latter estimate probably understates what is globally consumed, most of our plant food comes from only nine plants − with maize, wheat, rice and potatoes being the four most significant ones.
When we consider meat sources we have been even more selective. Most meat comes from cows and pigs while the consumption of sheep meat, venison and goat meat hardly register. When it comes to bird meat almost all comes from one bird − the chicken. We have been so selective because we have concentrated our breeding effort on the few species which are very easy to manage, very pleasant to eat and are very productive.
In the future less of our wood will come from managed indigenous forests. These forests are not only expensive to manage but also less productive and therefore less profitable. Because wood is essential to our life style and because wood is environmentally friendly and renewable, our wood will increasingly come from plantations. Most of these will be monocultures of non-indigenous tree species. In the future we will have no option but to parallel agriculture and concentrate on those tree species which grow fast and are very useful.
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Friday, November 25, 2016
I am a forester; in the old sense of the word. I want to reclaim the name, to give it again the sense of guardianship of a people and a place which is spatial, structural, dynamic, and timeless; a guardianship which sees our short stay here as one step along a path, which sustains a place of function that gives of multiple values, and shifts in shape and form through four dimensions … and others of the mind. A forester used to be far more than an agronomist. They were verderers (responsible for the green), guardians of the forest common, and common law, and the rights and responsibilities of commoners, and with equal status to the Sheriff.
I want to reclaim that word ‘forest’, to take it back to the French forêt – even beyond. A forest was vert (green) and venison (meat), game, hunt, wolf, prey, browse, graze, forage, arable fields, villages, halls, fungi, recreation, procreation, herb, fruit, nut, of rights to mast and turbary and marl, of wild food, charcoal, fuel, wood, tool making, even refuge. A forester is, as Jack Westoby said, concerned not just with the forest, but with how the forest can serve people. Not just the mill.
Such a forest is not a ‘crop’. No forester merely ‘scientifically manages’ that crop. That we leave to the agronomic technocrats who must reduce meaning of complex natural and social beings in order to fit some delusion of concrete form that behaves within the model: the ‘fallacy of misplaced concreteness’.
Forests are as Alfred North Whitehead argued for all objects. No forest has a simple spatial or temporal location. They shift, they extend, they change, they are influenced from their position within a geography, a history, and through the changing lens of humanity and other beasts. They are complex, adaptive, alive, and beautiful. They are verbs, not nouns. They are defined by process, not structure. “All things flow” is what Whitehead said, as all things are integrated, and inseparable from the observer. What we see, we see through the filters in our minds given to us by our culture.
It is because forests are unbounded, complex, adaptive and dynamic that they don’t behalf as factories do; they are more organic than material. The ‘forest as factory’ idea is an abstract, an ideal; it is ‘anti-real’ in the sense that it is a representation of reality made useful because it provides a working model – an illusion – for those who think in a mechanical way, with all the emphasis on hierarchy and control, and all the delusions of how the scientific managers are those that ‘know’ a forest. To think of a forest as a ‘resource’ is to dissect it, divest it of essence. To think of a forest in this way imprisons an experience of all the senses into a prison cage.
You can sense a forest. Ball’s Clearing is a Podocarp-Hardwood remnant adjacent to a frost flat (the clearing) beneath the Kaweka Range, inland Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand. As a child it was nothing short of a wonderland of sense and mind-changing experience. There is energy, life, breathing, pulsing, tenor, bass and baritone sounds of boughs and birds, multi-scented, multilayered, multi-coloured, moving, swaying, height, awe, grandeur, and welcoming grace. Because I was no artist – perhaps those best at knowing and representing this sense of place – I chose a future as a forester, for the sake of forest ecology. Ball’s Clearing is a forest as a system, subjective, moving, death and renewal. There is no factory here, unless it is one trapped inside someone’s mind.
That forest-as-factory ideal is a useful mirror to reflect back to the agronomists their prior belief. And this belief is hardly, if ever, questioned, because to do so would involve looking beyond the mirror, to try to catch a glimpse of the real world where scientific method cannot go. Beyond the mirror is the realm of philosophy, experience, intuition, sense – the real world, connected, dynamic, difficult to define in any static structural sense: “Without doubt, if we are to go back to that ultimate, integral experience, unwarped by sophistications of theory, that experience whose elucidation is the final aim of philosophy, the flux of things is one ultimate generalisation around which we must weave our philosophical system,” wrote Whitehead.
Whitehead even had a phrase for ‘becoming’, for being influenced by a moment such as a boy’s visit to a rich forest ecosystem. An ‘actual occasion’ is this process of becoming. It is not a mere event. In complex systems theory today we might refer to it as the adapting of a complex, me.
There have been other ‘actual occasions’. You can be taught ecology, but there is a moment when you get it – lying on your back listening to bird calls after plotting up and down the change from gullies to sunny or shady aspects. The plot data shows one ‘truth’, a snapshot. The experience of variation and connection you feel in a small forest site and how it relates to the dynamic context around you gives another, and it is far deeper.
And if you like land, and have a sense for it, you can see the same integrated patterns and processes working through space and time outside the forest, across the wider landscape.
These challenges to the definition of forests go beyond what they are. It also extends to what they do, their purpose, and what relationships they have within their geographic space, within their on-going path of history, and to humanity. Are we one inclusive part of these natural systems, or excluded outsiders who draw upon ‘objective’ forests for sustenance or the occasional visit?
The modern view would have us the latter, excluded, and the forest as ‘resource’ – the either ‘preservationist’ or ‘resourcist’ dichotomy that provides no place for people. The developer and the preservationist fight each other for where the fence will go between their two sides of the same coin, and they both fight those that try to live, nurture, and harvest within a space.
The past and – in my view essentially – the future view would have us the former, integral, included.
We need to move away from our current modernist debasement of truth – the structuralism, the mechanical ontology, the simplification, the reduction and dissection, the denial of the richer parts of sense experience, the dis-integration of people from their space. These ideas are just that, ideas. They are not only false, they are inhumane, and underpin the debasement of our natural forest systems to accommodate a desire for more easy measurement, control, ‘utilisation’, modelling, and concepts of allocation and ‘ownership’. That debasement is not ‘truth’, it is ‘convenience’. It does not maintain value and adaptable philosophical enquiry, it degrades thought and assigns tasks.
And that modern debasement applies to all land, and the people it would call ‘resource’ as well.
2nd March 2013
And I couldn’t resist quoting this …
“This is a trait I admire about foresters: they think big. Some of the greatest thinkers about the American landscape were foresters, including Gifford Pinchot, Aldo Leopold, and Benton MacKaye. …… Maybe this bigger picture has to do with the roots of the word ‘forest’: the place outside the king’s garden, the place beyond.”
Robert Sullivan 2014 ‘Forest farewell: an ode to an iconic tree’ Orion Mar/April 2014 p61
Disclaimer: Personal views expressed in this blog are those of the writers and do not necessarily represent those of the NZ Farm Forestry Association.