Ice, White & Blue

Redhead Amok in Antarctica

Dogs

You can always blame your stinky silent farts on them when they are around.

That's almost worth the occasional face-licking.

posted by: coldwish at 08:19 | link | comments (10) |
nz 2006

Watching Wekas on the Seashore

Bonnie is home with her mother now. Which left me alone the other day in the late afternoon as the sun disappeared behind the hills, casting shadows long & cool on the dock and the breakwater where I sat. I was able to sit peacefully and watch the birds of the shore: the little grey-winged gulls foraging in the masses of floating seaweed tossed into the harbour by the week of southerlies we'd had. They stood on the seaweed, or paddled between, pecking at tiny creatures they stirred up. If that was not sufficient they would stand on a pad of seaweed and stamp their webbed feet like children in puddles, sending up splashes and forcing the seaweed to shift, thus revealing more of the tiny edible things they sought in the water.

Meanwhile on the stony beach where yards and yards of seaweed lay rotting in the sun, the wekas diligently searched for their tiny creeping edibles. They did not just peck, as chickens do, they pulled great swathes of seaweed up, leaning backwards on their sturdy legs until the piece came up and the underside was revealed, teeming with food.  Stabbing motions ensued.

Wekas are great birds, quite possibly my favourite NZ avian: cheeky, curious, bold and opportunistic, they stake their territorial claims and "ka-wek! Ka-wek!" ring their declarations of "I am here! This in mine!" through the hills. There are wekas on the shore, and they don't much share the two small beaches. There are wekas by the houses, each dwelling with its own set of bird owners. There are wekas in the woods, by the goldmine, in the bush.  A brightly coloured sandal will go missing from the porch when a weka, consumed by curiosity, will carry it off into the surrounding gardens. The wekas will peer in your open door (don't leave it open when they are about), cocking their heads to each side as they scan the interior, making slow but bold steps to the door.

At Pav's, as I dug my trench and heated up in the chilly damp air, I would remove my fleece or shirt and drape it across a tussock of high grass. When I would turn around minutes later I'd see a weka duck underneath and peck at it from inside, knocking it off the grass onto itself. If I tried to shoo it away my fleece would shoot off through the grass worn haphazardly by the weka until shed by the bird underneath.

Mowing the lawn here became another weka opportunity to follow behind me picking at the disturbed bugs & creatures, in complete disregard for the loud & stinky lawn mower I wielded.

I smile at each dusk or night chorus of "ka-weks!" I hear, as one group starts the shout and after a pause a distant group echoes them, then more from the beach, others up the hill, the back lawn wekas ringing in too to trumpet their territorial presences.

At Pav's, the woods rang with nightly cries. Come June this year many of these cheeky birds will be silenced, permanently. In June, on the Department of Conservation (DOC) land surrounding Pav's 42 hectares (100 acres), DOC will drop poison pellets (1080, banned in most countries worldwide) from helicopters in their efforts to erase the possums. In their zeal to remove the possums-who were introduced into the country and protected for many years to encourage a growth in population--they will also remove many of NZ's native wildlife: wekas will eat the pellets, and eat the dying possums and die themselves; hawks and falcons will catch and eat the dying poisoned possums and will die themselves; deer will eat the pellets and die. DOC will kill the wekas in the hills around Pav's place.  If Pav's wekas survive, then come dusk each night for several years, they will call into the hills and there will be a resounding silence in return. There will be no other wekas out there. If Pav's wekas--or should I say the wekas who have staked their claim on Pav and his hut?-survive it will be because they have become familiar (sometimes too familiar) with Pav and his generous ways with food. They will stick to their declared and defended territory in his clearing, no slow dying possums will pass nearby, and they will survive.

Or so I hope. Pav's place will be a lonely, quiet and sad place to be when the wekas don't stalk my toes, carry off my socks, and call into the dark looking for others of their kind. Shame on DOC for their short-sighted stupidity. There are other ways to rid NZ of possums, ways that do not endanger the local wildlife, if that is even necessary.

posted by: coldwish at 18:10 | link | comments (1) |
nz 2006