On the Map
(Left) Jacques-Julien Houtou de Labillardière’s description of the native cherry.
Voyage in search of La Pérouse
Cherry ballart grows from the Atherton Tablelands in Queensland to southern Tasmania, and across to the
Eyre Peninsula in South Australia.
The first European to record it was Jacques-Julien Houtou de Labillardière, the botanist on d'Entrecasteaux’s
expedition in search of La Perouse.
He formally described the species in 1800, but we have no physical type
specimen – the botanical type is his illustration and description. Maybe he lost his specimen, or disposed
of it, or thought a picture would do; Jacques seems to have been a bit cavalier with his record-keeping.
Or perhaps it was stolen or misplaced after all his specimens were seized in an overlapping series of
defections, wars, defeats and revolution as the expedition tried to return to Europe.
The collection was eventually returned after the intercession of English botanist Joseph Banks –
but no cherry ballart.
Its distinctive shape led to native cherry being marked on early Australian orienteering maps, since they
are in a cartographic Goldilocks zone: obvious, just numerous enough to make them useful, but not so
many as to clutter the map.
That was until Australia held the World Orienteering Championships in the mid-1980s, when the
standardisation of Australian orienteering maps for overseas competitors led to the cherry ballart
becoming an early victim of internationalisation – at least cartographically speaking.
Its utility also extended to the timber. Among the uses of its “close-grained and handsome wood” are tool handles,
gun stocks and map rollers (although the last is probably a niche market these days).
Indigenous Australians ate the fruit, used the wood for spear throwers and reportedly used the sap
as a treatment for snakebite. They called it Tchimmi-dillen (Queensland), Palatt or Ballot (Lake Condah,
Victoria) and Ballee (Yarra).
Grow baby, Grow!
Despite producing large quantities of fruit and seed, no one seems to be able to get native cherry to
germinate reliably. There are anecdotal reports that feeding the seed to chooks works, but other growers
dismiss this approach.
This odd “fruit” gives rise to the genus name (exo = outside, carpos = fruit,) and was often touted by early
European writers as another example of the topsy-turvy nature of Australia – “cherries” with the pit on the
utside went along with “duck-billed playtpus”, animals with pouches, trees that shed bark rather than leaves,
and Christmas in the middle of summer.
The edible fruit isn’t actually a true fruit: it’s a swollen stem. It’s reported to have the highest sugar
level of any native fruit in the forests of southern Victoria and is much tastier than you’d think a stem would
be. (It’s also probably an important nutrient supply for some birds, but that’s yet another thing we are yet to
prove.)
This odd “fruit” gives rise to the genus name (exo = outside, carpos = fruit,) and was often touted by early
European writers as another example of the topsy-turvy nature of Australia – “cherries” with the pit on the
outside went along with “duck-billed playtpus”, animals with pouches, trees that shed bark rather than leaves,
and Christmas in the middle of summer.
Despite their oddness, native cherries in the bush are biodiversity hotspots. My camera trap data show they
preferentially attract echidnas, possums, foxes, swamp wallabies, white-winged choughs and bronzewing pigeons.
This might be because they modify their immediate environment. My research shows they create moderate
micro-climates in their foliage, reduce soil temperatures, increase soil water retention, concentrate
nutrients in the soil beneath their canopies, and alter the understorey vegetation. They also kill some
of their host trees, creating patches with higher concentrations of dead timber. All these probably have
something to do with their animal attraction, but exactly how is a mystery yet to be solved.
In addition to their attractiveness to vertebrates, native cherries are required hosts for some striking
moths and share specialist host duties with mistletoe for some of our most beautiful butterflies (although
mistletoes take most of the glory in the scientific literature).
My research into our cherry ballart hopes in part to correct these historical slights. I want to set the
record straight on this overlooked widespread and attractive little tree, which has a long indigenous use
and was one of the first of our native flora to be described by Europeans.
