Jack Tame: Why are these dangerous trees allowed to exist in New Zealand?

Yesterday, my five-year-old niece had to have surgery.  

She was bumped up the priority list at Nelson Hospital by an orthopaedics team who were a bit concerned about her condition. Her ankle hurt, and her mum reckoned it was looking swollen and feeling a bit hot, the telltale signs of infection. 

Surgery is a stressful thing for a young child, not to mention that child’s parents. But the good news is that so far at least, she seems to be doing really well. She returned home last night with a giant bandage, a pink certificate and a new teddy bear. Given the state of our healthcare system at the moment, everyone involved is very grateful.   

And what was it, you’re wondering. Why did your sweet, cheeky, little 5-year-old niece have to go forego her breakfast and anything by mouth, and endure all the stress of being poked and prodded, the fear of being put to sleep, why did she have to be forcibly held down so the anaesthetist could get the mask on her face and the surgeons could cut open her little ankle and slice down into the flesh? 

The reason is that as a result of an innocent accident when she was playing with her friends, she ended up with what the surgeon told her mum is the single most common foreign object their team gets called on to remove.  

No, it wasn’t Lego. It wasn’t a rusty nail or drawing pin gone bad. It was a spike from the frond of a Phoenix palm tree. 

Now this is either yet another example of my ignorance, which I’ll concede is fairly likely, or maybe this comes as a surprise to you too. I had absolutely no idea that Phoenix palm trees posed such a serious risk.  

They’re obviously an exotic. They’re originally from the Canary Islands of all places, but you see them all the time in coastal parts of New Zealand. They look tropical and quite attractive in the right setting, but their structure is downright sinister. At the end of their fronds are long, sharp spikes. The spikes are poisonous. They snap off under the skin. And that, as it turns out, is a very nasty combination.  

Apparently 40% or 50% of the hand surgeries at Middlemore Hospital are because of Phoenix palm spikes. ACC has to cover hundreds of injuries from these trees every year. And the people who end up getting lanced by a Phoenix palm often find the spike buries itself deep in their flesh, and with the toxicity and the decaying organic matter, more often than not the wounds get quite seriously infected.  

My niece had a spike that measured half a centimetre somewhere in her ankle. The frustrating thing of course was that unlike me, her Mum did actually know about the danger of Phoenix palms and had warned the kids to be careful.  

But at the end of the day, five-year-olds will be five-year-olds. And honestly, should we really be relying on a child’s ability to correctly identify an exotic palm tree in order to keep them from needing surgery to remove a poisonous thorn from an infected puncture wound?  

Various regions have various restrictions on Phoenix palms. Auckland has the toughest rules – you can’t breed them or plant them. But they seem to spread pretty effectively off their own accord. They're pests. They squeeze out natives.   

Given the kinds of harm they cause, I’ve got to wonder... why are these things allowed to exist at all? Surely if they’re resulting in hundreds of injuries and surgeries every year, an eradication programme be warranted.  

My sister was bemused when as she walked out of Nelson hospital last night, carrying her daughter with her bandaged leg, she noted several Phoenix palm trees within the hospital grounds. I mean, honestly. 

Surely there's a really good argument to cull the things. Leave them to the Canary Islands, I say. Cut them down, burn them off, and make sure nothing rises from the Phoenix ashes.