A shrub or small tree that grows in forest margins, riverbanks, and disturbed areas. Tutu reaches two to five metres in height, with a spreading habit and thin, angled branches. The leaves are small, oval, and arranged opposite each other along the stems. They are bright green and soft, not tough like the leaves of the podocarps. The flowers are small and greenish, followed by the distinctive fruit. What makes it special? The petals. Every part of the tutu plant is poisonous – the leaves, the stems, the roots, the seeds. All of it. Except for the petals. The petals look like long strings of small, dark fruit – a juicy, sweet, purple-black string that hangs from the branches. To eat the petals is safe. To eat anything else is to risk convulsions and death. Māori knew this well. To extract the sweet juice, they crushed and strained the petals through toetoe and other fibrous plants. The juice was used to sweeten and flavour other foods such as aruhe (fern root) and dishes made from mamaku and karaka. The juice was a delicacy, a sweet treat in a forest that offered little sugar. The poisonous properties of tutu were also used to poison bait for eels. The leaves and stems were crushed and placed in streams, stunning the eels so they could be caught. The poison was also used on the tips of bird spears, bringing down the kererū and the kākā. Biologically, tutu is a pioneer of disturbed ground. It is often the first plant to appear on a slip or a eroded bank, its roots holding the soil together. It grows quickly, produces its poisonous fruit, and then fades away as the forest returns. To see a tutu is to see a plant of contradictions. Poisonous and sweet. Dangerous and useful. A killer and a healer. Tutu is not a king. It is not a warrior. It is the trickster of the forest, the one that offers sweetness with one hand and death with the other.