‘Money always wins’: Inside Sydney’s underground tree-killing industry

In the leafy suburbs of Sydney, there’s one crime above all that gets under people’s skin.

You know the old philosophical question, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

It’s a conundrum for the residents of Willowie Road, Castle Cove.

In July last year, 265 trees were illegally killed — some of them poisoned, others cut by hand or chainsaw — and all just metres from people’s homes.

The thing is, no one who lives along this picturesque strip — where the mansions meet native bush and spectacular Sydney water views — heard or saw a thing.

At the time, the crime caused an outcry and made international headlines.

The trees felled included banksias and an angophora thought to be up to 100 years old.

The local council offered a $10,000 reward for anyone who came forward with information that could lead to a successful prosecution, but 12 months on and there’s been, well, crickets.

Little can be gleaned from those who inhabit the multi-million-dollar properties directly opposite the site of the destruction.

Most don’t want to speak to the media.

Several say the saga has been a nightmare. They’ve all fallen under suspicion and even copped abuse from people driving past.

“I feel like when everyone walked past, they’re looking at us like we done it,” said one resident named Kelly, who moved in a few months after the trees were killed.

“The feeling is not good, you know? But, like, we haven’t done anything.”

Yet, none are prepared to point the finger at their neighbours.

This is Sydney’s North Shore — a collection of quintessential “good” suburbs.

There are big houses, big backyards, some with tennis courts and water views.

But there’s a growing sense of disharmony.

In recent years, reported cases of tree vandalism have increased.

Some locals say that the “green heart” of Sydney is losing the very thing that makes it so appealing — its trees.

To understand what’s behind this rise in illegal tree killing, Background Briefing interviewed tree loppers, concerned residents and the authorities tasked with investigating these crimes.

We’ve learned there is a thriving underground industry where the pursuit of profit outweighs the fear of being caught.

‘Just come at night and drop it’

Fifty kilometres from the North Shore, in Sydney’s west, lives James*.

James has worked as a tree lopper all over Sydney for close to 20 years.

“I had terrible customers in the Palm Beach area, Manly area, Bondi. They asked me to cut trees on the water, on public land. They told me, ‘just come at night, drop it’,” he says.

He says most of these people are looking to improve their views.

“Some people, they just want to build something, a swimming pool or something at the back and they can’t get permission from council. We do get a lot of this.”

James says clients often tell him “name your price” and he says some job offers have been worth up to $15,000.

And he says it’s happening all over the city, every day.

“If you’re looking for easy money, it’s very good,” he says.

James suspects a tree lopper would charge at least $20,000 for a big, risky job like the one at Castle Cove.

He says he’s “no angel” but he’s never illegally killed a tree.

Lack of regulation

Anyone can call themselves a tree lopper — all they need is a ute, a ladder and a chainsaw and they could be making thousands in their first weekend on the job.

Many so-called “tree loppers” are unregulated, often operating without insurance or even a licence to use a chainsaw.

“Most of them have a fake business account. So if they do any damage on the property or whatever, they just close the phone. They just run away and turn off the phone and that’s it. The business is not registered.”

James says there are many ways to kill a tree — especially if discretion is required.

He describes a long-term course and a short-term course.

The longer method involves salty or chlorinated water.

The shortest way is always poison.

“Some people they use a drill [and pour in] the poison from the roots. Some people, they climb on the ladder and do it high so no one can see it,” James says.

Then it’s just a matter of waiting for the poison to do its job. Once the tree is dead, it’s much easier to get council permission to have it removed.

It’s something that North Shore resident Louise has noticed time and again around her property.

“You often see the leaves browning off, going a bronzy colour. And that’s how you can tell pretty much that it’s been poisoned,” she says.

“When we first came here there was a lot more canopy in the area, not just where we are, but further down the hill too.”

Louise and her husband Jim are part of a growing group of frustrated North Shore residents who say they see illegal tree loppers in action all the time.

They’re members of Tree Watch, which was started by the Voices of Ku-ring-gai community group, and they act as pseudo tree vigilantes.

Anytime they hear or see anything suspicious around a tree, the members communicate on their WhatsApp group and then report it to council. Sometimes they’ll even go and confront whoever’s there.

“It’s always on a Saturday. Always on the weekend when council’s not open,” Louise says.

“Often I’ll go into the house and go, ‘What are you doing? Where are the owners?’ You know, I’m quite confrontational.”

Louise says they regularly get approached by tree loppers offering to do jobs for them on the spot. 

“They’ll come knock on the door, or try and catch you while you’re outside and say: ‘Hi. Do you want a tree cut down? We can do it for cheap,'” she says.