Creatures and culture...

12/03/09

We begin today with breakfast in the neat little dining room; I like this house, it’s airy and minimalist, with an interestingly sunken living room, making it seem rather cosy despite the high ceilings. IT has a view out over the back garden, which is practically vertical in places and smothered with trees to the extent that it is a large sea of rainforest behind the house. Trees of every different kind whisper against one another in the light breeze, telling green secrets to the wind and sharing seeds with the ground. Big palms rub shoulders with tall gums and other leafy giants. One could get quite easily lost in one’s own back garden here! There is apparently a path to a tall apple tree in the middle distance – I shouldn’t like to go and pick them unless I had a ball of twine or a trail of crumbs! The house also has a lovely, though small, marble kitchen, with interesting shelves hiding everything away. Andrew and I share a ‘room’ above the study, which consists of a large glass-sided platform with an embedded mattress; the glass sides light up with different colours twinkling through their foliage-etched design – it’s enchanting. Little Nick comes in just before we are really awake and we hear him clonking up the stairs with some bewheeled toy. We feign sleep and he happily tootles onto the edge of the bed and makes truck noises. Obviously this area is still the ferry for the lorries…
:)
When we emerge, he is still playing with the trucks and tells us and Katka that one of them has been on the ferry… I love small children’s imaginations, they seem totally incomprehensible until you realise that they are still very much living inside their own heads and once you join them there it is an enriching experience.

Breakfast eaten, we wonder what the weather is going to be like. They have promised chilly grey skies so we are not sure what to do – The Te Papa museum in Wellington perhaps, or a mini kid’s theme park with a lovely café…? However, while we are contemplating and getting ready to go out, the sun peeps through the clouds and rapidly and unexpectedly burns them all away, leaving us stripping off layers and grinning in the sun. Katka potters in the garden and Andrew sorts out a spot of lunch while I watch after Nick. We sit on the edge of the driveway and pick out car-shaped pebbles… Soon we have a little road of pebbles all going along the edge of the driveway – I rather like sharing a child’s world, it makes your own so much richer! After rescuing a pebble and a bit of parsley from the exhaust pipe of the real car and the side of the house from flung stones we have a little chat about the man on the roof a few doors away and speculate about what he is doing. Then Nick potters off to Katka and I follow.
Nick is thoroughly bemused by what happens next. Andrews comes belting around the corner brandishing a peeled carrot at me and I squeak and bolt. Nick looks confused as Andrew chases me around the garden with this soggy carrot…
I don’t mind carrots in general, it’s just this particular carrot I have taken a disliking to. While we were in Paihia we bought two enormous carrots for dinner. The one we had was foul so the other one became a symbol of last resort, to be feared and hated – rather like Terry Pratchett’s dwarf bread, it kept you away from hunger because you’d rather eat anything else, “…raw sheep, mountains, your own feet.”. Worked too!
However, it is becoming a little sad and needs eating, but that explains the random carrot assault that confused Nick (and Katka who now thinks I don’t like carrots…).
We decide, in the face of the now glorious weather bathing the green and fertile befruited garden in light and warmth that we shall go somewhere different, somewhere that Katka and Nick have never been – the Karori Wildlife Sanctuary.
We hop in the car (I’m in the back with Nick but don’t manage in time to stop him throwing water all over himself. Oops.) and arrive in the blazing sun.
It is peaceful here with a large hill rising before us and a sea of leafy, frondy green following the hill towards its summit. We enter reception and pay for our entry with a vintage chap from near Birmingham I believe! He has clearly gone native and his accent is soft, pleasant and lilting, though most peculiar and hard to place. He tells us a few tidbits about the place and shows us where to start. He also tells us that there is a sort of holding bay once we enter, in which we have to rummage out our bags. We are puzzled by this until it is contxtualised. They are not afraid of explosives or blades, water or aerosols. Their fear is that your bag may contain something far more destructive to the sanctuary. It was set up several years ago with defences better than those of Fort Knox. It has a special wire fence which goes down and then kinks flat for a foot to deter rabbits. It is higher than a cat can jump, taller than a possum can climb, double layered, narrower than a stoat or mouse can squeeze and crammed with other deterrent features, including large rodent traps. They are also attempting to restore the native vegetation and weed out any newcomers. This is how New Zealand used to be, before Man came along in his wooden canoes and fancy ships and destroyed the local habitat. It is a haven for the flightless and vulnerable original inhabitants who were easy prey for every mammal that came this way. That means that there are many birds and lizards who call this area home, and it is thriving strongly and beautifully and should continue to do so for many years. The only creatures which can enter, do so either by paying or flying in, and the staff take great pains to ensure that this remains the case.
This is why there is a self-done bag search, just in case you have brought in any unwanted visitors. One American lady was thoroughly indignant, very stubborn and insisted that her bag didn’t need to be searched. She was refused entry until she had emptied out her belongings and was astonished when from amongst them leapt a small brown mouse! This could happen to anyone, however careful, and one pregnant mouse could destroy much of the hard work these dedicated wildlife professionals have put in. Rodents eat eggs, and the Karori birds, while not exclusively ground nesting, are all extremely vulnerable to this sort of sneak-attack.
This is why this place is so interesting, it has a different atmosphere – the birds here don’t need to be kept in cages for their own safety, they are already in a gigantic aviary, but at their own liberty to come or go. Anything we see here is here by choice and happily living out its life. We examine the map and set off in the sun. We walk down to the water first, along green-lined paths with tall trees and large reeds by the water. The first thing which catches our eyes is a set of tanks containing geckoes. They are bright little things, vivid lime green, with toning paws and big glistening eyes, which they lick occasionally. There are at least six in each tank, peeping out amongst the leaves, and I would love to take a few home! They seem to be quite sociable little things, clustering together in the middle of the tank, basking on top of one another in the sun, moving about slowly around each other and generally ignoring each other completely.

I can just imagine a conversation between them:
‘Ere, Gary, give us a leg up?
There ya go Bob.
Cheers mate – oof, it’s a long way – Fred, hey Fred!
Wot?
Mind if I step on yer tail?
No problem Bob.
Sweet as.
*heaves little tubby gecko self onto next branch*
Oi! Bob!
Eh? Wot?
You’ve trodden on my head. And that appears to be my eye you have your toe in.
Where? Oh yes, sorry.
*moves paw an inch*
[geckoes still and snooze in sun]

We watch these delightful little, jewel-coloured creatures a while, enchanted, before moving on a bit further. We corral Nick who is running around us in circles and disappearing here and there and toddle onward. We see a pied shag in the distance, our first glimpse of bird on the water. The lake glitters in the sun and I bask too. We investigate a little building out on the water, which used to be part of something technical near the dam. It has been beautifully restored and the views out over the twinkling water in each direction are lovely, almost otherworldly. We pass nearer to the water, where we have been promised a shag’s nest below us, but I see no sign of her sitting. However, the trees above us are alive with small birds. They sound like long-tailed tits and bounce about in the same fashion, but look a little more like green robins. They are quizzical and unafraid, though timid. They come to look at us and we try to photograph their powdery, tubby bodies as they flit from branch to branch in the sun. I fail miserably, and just enjoy their presence hopping about in the tree. They are green, with yellow eyeliner, and, to my eye, very unusual. I enjoy the sun and smells; there is an overwhelming fragrance of hot plants, spicy, strong and sweet in the warmth.
Something tuneful with a red russet head bounces about waving its tail in a large pine tree as we head down the steps to the water’s edge, it is hard to see behind the sun-drenched pine needles and glittering cobwebs but it sings at us anyway. I think it might be a fantail, which is rather exciting as they aren’t often seen.
We cross the water on a little metal bridge, glad that it isn’t high summer as a board explains the presence, not entirely welcome, of certain types of very pongy algae and bacteria, which turn the water green. Still, the birds seem unperturbed by it, which is good.
We decide to stop for lunch in the sun on the other side of the lake, where there is a lovely view up the lake toward the little building we spotted earlier. The sun is warm and the surroundings green. There is also a seat and ducks, mallards in fact. What more could you possibly want from a picnic spot? We sit in the sun and admire the tall reeds. Nick chases ducks. He is perturbed by their persistence. When they are waved at, they merely stare at you hopefully. When you stand up they quack discontentedly and circle gently, coming back to stare at you again. He runs around after them in large circles and they flee into the bushes behind the seat, quacking and scurrying. Nick is proud of himself, but cross when they reappear from behind the seat and take up their positions opposite him, staring and quacking again. They are rather funny, but very persistent. They are eventually being discouraged by Katka’s and my feet, which we prod gently into their tummies if they get too close. They are extremely tame and are clearly fed regularly and against the rules by various visitors, who are, I suspect, bullied into it! One decides to take up a position of refuge under my legs, of which I take a rather dim view after she takes a passing and shortsighted chomp at my foot. She scurries off at my surprised squeak and swing of foot, and passes it on to her next in line by pecking roughly at her feathers. There seems to be an hierarchy here. People prod duck, duck prods her immediate inferior, who in turn snaps at hers, and so forth. The social life of ducks suddenly appears rather more complex than merely swimming, eating and making ducklings...
We finish our lunch and move on a little, the ducks follow us and Nick giggles and runs around on the lawn chasing them back into the water. No sooner has the last one dived into the reeds, than the next one will reappear behind him, starting the whole merry cycle again! Nick miraculously also manages not to fall in…
Next stop is the Weka fence. The Weka is a small shy bird and they are trying to keep it separate from the Tuatara, who are to be found, we are told, on the other side. We wander along the neat path by the trees and keep our eyes peeled in the dusty scrub. Nick runs on ahead and this time I follow to catch him. We look over a small drop, I with one hand at the ready, just in case, and look at the water, speculating where it may be coming from and going to. Just as we round a corner, a couple coming the other way tell us that there is a Tuatara to be found at post 10. We scour the undergrowth around post 10 and Katka spots him, a young male lolling luxuriously in the dry leaves. He is pale brown and speckled daintily with darker colours. His back spines are small and lie down his back like an ornament. His neat head with its bright black eyes is turned away from us to the side, but his eye is clearly on us as he seems to be paying attention and turns his best side to the camera. They are rather arrogant little creatures and seem to enjoy being stared at and photographed. This one sports a couple of coloured beads on his ruff, rather as a Rasta would adorn his dreads. This gives him a rather festive air, as if he is ready for some massive jungle party we don’t know about. Apparently these beads are to tell the Tuatara apart. They are young ones who have been deliberately introduced and the Sanctuary is keeping track of them for their own safety. The older ones have more beads on their ruff spikes, whereas the younger ones can fit only two on each side. The patterns of beads are their only distinguishing features. Tuatara, although they look like lizards, are really Earth’s only remaining dinosaurs. They also have a vestigial and functional third eye, which may have been useful in youngsters to spot winged predators. It disappears after the first few months of life, but can still be found on dissection. They are rather an anomaly; they have their own entire genus within the animal kingdom. They are neither reptile nor lizard; they are Tuatara. He blinks disdainfully and regally at us and we potter on.
Before we leave this little section, we also have a look at a ‘Weta Hostel’. These are large hollowed trees trunks which have been fitted with an opening door and little rooms with Perspex windows. We peer intently at one of these for some time, watching the slumbering weta within. These can be found in caves all over New Zealand and parts of Australia and look remarkably like dull brown crickets. They are, however, about the length of a man’s little finger with beautiful curving antennae twice as long again. I do like these ones, they’re interesting. New Zealand’s natural history seems to be more accessible and verdant than Australia’s, with the added bonus that none of it can kill you or even make you wish it had.
The path diverges here and we decide to head up to the dam. The path isn’t terribly suitable for pushchairs but Katka decides to take it anyway as it looks interesting. The path is through the tall trees, so it is dappled, damp, cool and ferny. I peer warily at the mosquitoes dancing about my head and hasten my pace, before deciding that repellent is probably the way to go. Ha! We head over a gigantic dam, admiring the lake and plants below, enjoying the wafting scents and broad leaves. There is a cluster of interesting black and white birds on the far side of the lake, but they are just too far away to make out properly. We all take turns looking through the solid viewing binoculars that are on the platform here. There are many winged creatures out on the lake, some familiar, others not. We wend further through the ferns and come to a suspension bridge. This one is long and sturdy and has a great view down onto the ferns. It hardly wobbles at all and the gentle swaying as we pass over it all adds to the fun.
We come to a crossroads and take what seems like the right way and all too soon we are exiting this wonderland of native creatures. There have been little birds, bigger birds, water birds, tree birds, massive ferns, huge trees, interesting insects and of course the regal Tuatara at home. It has been a lovely walk and anyone with a little time to spare in Wellington would be well-advised to come around here, just to get a feel of what New Zealand really should be like. I wish them every success in keeping it pest-free and as delightful as it is today!

After heading homewards and relaxing for a moment, Nick has his tea. He’s a little wilful about eating his dinner, but rather sweet. He asks for company, so we sit with him while his parents are busy. After tea he wants me to play trains with him, so we decamp to the sitting room floor and make stations and stops and all sorts of exciting train related things. Andrew helps rebuild the track and we go around in happy figures of eight and puzzling circles.
Later on in the evening, Katka tells us that the local museum is open for free until late tonight. We decide to go and see…
Te Papa Museum (‘Our Place’ in Maori) is an enormous, nicely presented and fascinating place. It houses many things from sea creatures to ancient gold.
We inspect the Colossal Squid, who was a girl, and is the first squid to have ever been preserved in this way. Colossal Squid are not seen very often and are deep seas creatures. This ones life has been reconstructed for a video about her, and her accidental capture, freezing, thawing, dissection and preservation is beautifully documented on celluloid. Once we have finished admiring her mortal remains Andrew and I are both tempted into making our ‘own’ Colossal Squids on their interactive computer table. Mine is imaginatively named ‘Sqiddypus’. I shall have a peep at her progress on the website shortly – she must be getting quite big by now!
We wander on through exhibitions of wildlife, including the destructive but fluffy possum. We inspect a large room with an interactive floor – a very innovative idea in which you step on a section of floor, painted with a section of New Zealand, and a little trail of lights comes on, guiding your eye to relevant pictures on the screens discreetly embedded in the walls. We bounce about happily on this bright floor for some time, inspecting the pictures and enjoying the little videos of local life. Someone has put a lot of thought into this display. We head into a slightly more cultural section after that and look at some installations on the roof. One I find a little uninspiring – they’re just painted sheds with a catchy title that I’ve forgotten. The one after that, however, is one I’ve heard about and seen pictures of and I’m very pleased to be able to see it. They are gyroscopic, egg-shaped creatures, with moulded beaks and stylised wings. They look exactly like bird-shaped Weebles and I fall immediately in love with the green one, whose beak I push and I chuckle as he wobbles in the light breeze on the roof. It’s rather a peculiar experience, being up here in the clear night, watching Wellington glittering in the darkness below, lights of every colour for every purpose glowing out into the distance over the water, while the chicken Weebles wobble and creak in the faint light behind us.
It’s quite beautiful and decidedly different…

Risotto, chicken and bed for us soon – we have a flight to the South Island tomorrow!

:)