The Majestic Rugby Ball with Legs

I awoke gradually as the rising sun began to show pink through the curtains covering my window. I was hunkered down in the fluffy covers, surrounded by pillows, having just had the first really good night's sleep since our arrival four days before. With unadjusted eyes I peeked through a slit in the curtains, only to have my retinas bleached by the sun's blaring light. The house was still all quiet so I padded out of my room as silently as possible to go get a better look at the morning's colors. I went into the living room, opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck (or "dick", as it is pronounced here). It was already warm and the light was blinding. A line of clouds nestled into the distant rolling hills. I heard the clicking of nails on wood and looked to my left to see Millie, who had apparently appeared out of thin air, trotting towards me. I sat in one of the deck chairs and she immediately leapt onto my lap for a cuddle. I remained there only a few minutes, trying to appreciate the view while shielding myself from the sun's rays. Millie hopped down and trotted back from whence she came, and I went inside to see if Mem was awake. She was, so I beckoned her out to look at the morning fog on the hills.

Millie says, "Good morning!" outside my bedroom window.

Soon Carrie also emerged and set to arranging breakfast, a combination of coffee, tea, cereal, fresh fruit, and a light, fluffy, locally produced yogurt. We chatted a bit and then readied ourselves for the short walk down the nearby Rotary Redwood Park bush path to the Kiwi House. We cut through a neighbor's backyard and emerged onto the drive, walking downhill a few meters until we came to a gate. The gate led into a shaded trail seemingly lined with trees of every variety. Carrie and leashed Millie led us down the composting path. It smelled of evergreen forest and a yet unseen choir of insects buzzed, chirped, and clicked from all sides.

Vines!

 

A lily pad-covered pond next to the trail

 

Biodiversity

A Mem!

It only took a few minutes to descend the steep path before we saw bird enclosures belonging to the Kiwi House. Carrie pointed out which pens contained kiwis and identified some orange-beaked seabirds who sat calmly on a vine-covered wooden staircase (and whose names I have forgotten).

Next we came to a pen where she called out to a wood pigeon who had taking a liking to her. At the sound of her voice, he flapped out of the foliage and grasped onto the chain link separating us, then perched on a high wooden beam as near to Carrie as possible. He was as large as a chicken, with the usual gray-purple colored head, but a brilliant and full white breast. He clearly liked Carrie as much as she liked him and trained his eyes on her as we all stood there gawking.

 

Carrie's pigeon buddy

Just a few meters further we emerged into the parking lot of the Kiwi House. Carrie walked us in and introduced us to the woman at the desk, who she knew from her own volunteer work there. She bid us goodbye and we paid our admission and entered. The first enclosure contained the great spotted kiwi, the largest of these unusual flightless birds, which are endemic to the north island. The kiwi display was completely darkened save for a few dim track lights meant to simulate moonlight. Once our eyes adjusted, we could see movement within the glass enclosure. Soon the shape of the kiwi became apparent as she wandered around the enclosure, bobbing her head up and down and poking her long beak into the undergrowth in search of food. To my surprise, she was roughly the size of a turkey, and the shape of a rugby ball with legs and a head. Her fine, frizzy feathers looked soft and she occasionally fluffed them up as birds are wont to do. She seemed animated and wandered all around the enclosure, sometimes coming right up to the glass where we could get a closer look at her.

It was time for the feeding and educational talk. We spectators saw light in the back of the enclosure as the keeper opened the door to bring in the kiwi's food. She saw this too and immediately ran to him, squawking to demand the food she was about to receive. He set down a bowl of nutritious hodgepodge and she happily ate. The keeper entered the darkened hallway and proceeded to tell us about this fascinating creature.

We went into a second enclosure containing a young, small North Island brown kiwi, the most critically endangered subspecies. His name was Kevin. Next door to Kevin was an elderly great spotted kiwi (they live 30-40 years on average). Neither of these birds were as trusting as the previous large kiwi, and it took them several minutes to gingerly step out of hiding to approach the food that the keeper had set out.

After this we visited the kea and kaka, two parrot-type birds with big personalities. They were all well trained and docile with the trainer who went in to feed them, even willingly stepping onto her scale in exchange for a treat. Several visitors got to help feed nuts and cheese to the birds in order to keep them away from the gate while the keeper entered and left. The kaka in particular were said to be accomplished escape artists and the numerous chains and padlocks securing their enclosure were testament to this.

 Kea

 A kaka waits for his treat for stepping on the scale.

We made the loop around the park to see the other birds, which mostly seemed to be varieties of duck. Opportunistic sparrows flitted around both inside and outside the enclosures, stealing as much food as they could fit into their little beaks. Finally we ended at the aviary, where we were given handfuls of birdseed to attract kakariki. These red-crowned green parakeets would land on our hands to dig through the birdseed mixture in search of the good stuff (sunflower seeds).

Mem feeds the kakariki

A pair of kakariki wait for an open hand of birdseed.

 My Disney princess moment

As we made our way toward the exit, the keeper pointed out a couple of large reptiles known as tuatara, who apparently preyed upon just about anything, including the charming green parakeets. This had occasionally resulted in some horrifying education for sensitive visitors.

The terror of the aviary

We bought a few pieces of jewelry and knick-knacks from the gift shop, an ice cream bar and bottle of water each, and then headed back up the path. Coming down it looked quite steep and I anticipated huffing, puffing, and sweating profusely the entire way back up. It didn't turn out to actually be that bad and we arrived back at Carrie's house in a matter of a few minutes, barely winded.

I lazed around a bit, taking an opportunity to put my feet up and relax. The sky was a clear azure and the wind cooled where the sun burned, creating an almost perfect temperature.

 

 This does not suck.

We ate lunch, had tea, and then decided to venture out again. We drove past downtown and looped around east to visit Lake Huiputea. It was more of a pond than a lake, and a stinky one at that, full of stagnant water, ducks who swam toward us in anticipation of a treat, and water-loving plants. We walked around the entire thing in about ten minutes. In the center of the pond stood a giant sculpture of a pukeko, an odd-looking blue swamp hen with a large orange beak. Just south of the pond stood a historic tree, surrounded by a circle of other non-historic trees. The sign at the site reads, "Around this tree in 1822, after their victory at Matakitaki, a section of Ngapuhi had an advance base where they were surprised and annihilated by a party of Waikato and Maniapoto. Captive Waikato women aided the attackers. Soon after this reverse, all Ngapuhi returned North."

Lake Huiputea

A leafy vine occupies a tree trunk.

New Zealand flax, traditionally used in Maori weaving

 Flax flowers

We got back in the car and decided to drive south on Motorway 3 to see what we could see. We didn't have a map, but knew that Te Kuiti lay just a short drive south. We arrived within about twenty minutes and parked as soon as we spotted the giant sheep shearing statue we had read about. As we stepped out of the car, an air raid siren went off. We froze, not sure what to do. We had been talking with Carrie about earthquakes earlier and weren't sure if this was why the siren was going off. We looked around at the few people nearby enjoying the park, but they didn't seem to be reacting. A tired, snaggle-toothed woman emerged from the liquor store across the street and installed herself on a park bench right in front of our parked car. Mem asked what the siren was about and she told us it was either because of an accident or a fire.

Te Kuiti is the sheep shearing capital of the world, hence the statue, and apparently has little else going for it. It was practically a ghost town, much like Otorohanga had been the evening before. We walked up to the sheep shearing statue and then read the informational signs next to it. One read, "The most common breed of sheep in New Zealand is Romney." There's a political joke in there somewhere. As we stood there reading the signs, a fire truck went by and turned south down the motorway. It had been several minutes since the siren went off and the response time seemed long.

Mem for scale

Across the street was the tiny Tatsuno Japanese Garden, which could have used a little tender loving care, but was pleasant anyway. We walked several blocks into the desolate downtown area and then turned around and headed back to the car. Apart from a few attractive historical buildings, there wasn't much to see or do. On our way back to the car, Mem noticed a sign that said something about the volunteer firefighter brigade who were called to action by the air-raid siren, which explained the delay between the siren and the departure of the firetruck.

 

 Colorful but empty Te Kuiti

We drove back to Otorohanga. Mem was in the mood for a beer so we stopped in at the Thirsty Weta again. There one of the employees flirted with her and she flirted back, earning a free shot of some chocolate mint liqueur. We ended up staying for some excellent burgers and fries even though we had planned to dine elsewhere that night. Why fix what ain't broke? We returned to Carrie's and had a good long conversation about the dreadful state of American politics and, of all things, retirement funds.

"You miss 100% of the shots you don't take" - Wayne Gretzky