The fruits of migration

As chance would have it, following my recent speculative foray into the possible connection between language and crop diversity, an essay by the great Andrea Wulf 1 has just appeared that tells the story of how a remarkable German naturalist used breadfruit and linguistics to work out Polynesian migration patterns long before DNA or archaeology could confirm them.

George Forster sailed with his father aboard the HMS Resolution on Cook’s second voyage (1772-1775) and encountered breadfruit across the South Pacific. He noticed that the trees were seedless and could only be propagated by root cuttings. And also that there didn’t seem to be wild breadfruit trees anywhere in the islands. That meant every tree he saw, and there were many of them, had been deliberately planted by people.

Digging through the university library back in Göttingen, Forster later found that wild, seeded breadfruit with little flesh do exist, but in Southeast Asia. If the Pacific islands only had the improved, seedless types, he reasoned, they must have been carried there by people. That was proof both of sophisticated Polynesian plant management and of a migration route running from Southeast Asia eastward across the Pacific.

Forster combined this with careful attention to language. He deduced that most Pacific languages he encountered were dialects of a single root language, with small, systematic sound shifts. He and his father also charted how the presence of Malay loanwords decreased the farther east an island was located, which suggested that islands closer to Southeast Asia — the home of Malay — were settled earlier.

Where his fellow naturalist Joseph Banks saw the breadfruit purely as an economic resource (later lobbying to transplant it to the West Indies to feed enslaved plantation workers, hence HMS Bounty and all that), Forster saw it as historical and ethnographic evidence. That’s a strikingly different, more humanistic and — to me at least — more appealing way of reading a plant.

Wulf then jumps forward to modern archaeology and genetics, which broadly confirm Forster’s reconstruction. There was an initial human population in the region of Papua New Guinea dating back 45,000 years. This was followed by a second, Austronesian-speaking wave migrating out of Taiwan and thereabouts around 3,500 years ago. They travelled by the stars in “outrigger or double-hulled canoes loaded with hogs, chickens, root vegetables, coconuts, bananas, and breadfruit seedlings.” And they mixed with the descendants of the earlier wave through Melanesia. Their own descendants eventually reached Fiji, Samoa, Tonga, and, much later, Tahiti, Hawaii, Easter Island and New Zealand.

The essay closes by tying this to Tongan historian Epeli Hau’ofa’s idea of “Oceania” — the Pacific not as scattered, isolated islands, lost in a vast ocean, but as one interconnected “sea of islands.” Exactly what Forster intuited two centuries before it became conventional wisdom.

We’ve blogged a lot about breadfruit over the years. Check out the archive. And in particular listen to the recently-retired Dr Diane Ragone describe her 40-year journey to understand this remarkable tree.

Nibbles: Festivals, Wheat breeding, Cowpea, Community seed bank, Mint diversity

  1. Festivals, rituals and seed-saving go hand in hand, as this photo essay on Koraput’s Adivasis shows for World Indigenous Peoples Day.
  2. Speaking of unlikely alliances, Israeli and Palestinian researchers have teamed up on wheat that can take the heat in a warming, drying Middle East.
  3. Not to be outdone in the resilience stakes, the cowpea shrugs off both drought and flooding, according to FAO.
  4. If all this talk of resilient crops has you inspired, here’s a how-to on starting your own community seed bank, in South Africa or anywhere else for that matter.
  5. And for when preservation is really about nostalgia: Romania’s Buzau genebank is keeping childhood mint flavours alive, chocolate, clove and vanilla notes included.

Brainfood: Avocado history, Brazil commuity seedbanks, Citizen science, Agroecology double, Indigenous knowledge, Turkish seeds, Swiss biodiversity

Nibbles: Museum of Cider, Aport apple, Rattan genebank, Sri Lanka rice, Saudi coffee landscapes

  1. In the UK, Herefordshire’s Museum of Cider is picking up national recognition for its genebank of heritage apple trees. The BBC’s canonical autumnal apple story comes a little early this year.
  2. Speaking of iconic apples, Kazakhstan is scaling up efforts to bring back the Aport, the giant heirloom that once made Almaty famous. No word of museums, though. Or cider.
  3. Over in the Philippines, Department of Environment and Natural Resources is beefing up its rattan genebank to keep pace with demand, with forest stewards in Bukidnon planting seedlings to match. Furniture makers need genebanks as much as cider makers.
  4. Sri Lanka’s pre-Green Revolution heirloom rice varieties, purana haal, are being eyed for their resilience and disease-management potential. Good thing they’re in the national genebank.
  5. Saudi Arabia’s Jazan terraced coffee farms are turning into rural and ecotourism hotspots, proving not all agrobiodiversity needs to be in a genebank to survive. But it helps.

High on taro

The South Pacific nation of Vanuatu is having its National Agriculture Expo 2026 from August 3–7, 2026, on the northern island of Maewo. I’ve scoured the internet for information about this, but all I could find was social media posts, which I won’t link to, but you can find for yourself quite easily. I will, though, share, with thanks, this photo from one of those posts from Facebook. It’s of the 20-metre tower built by the taro farmers of Maewo, showcasing their product. Because it’s amazing.