Winter wonderland

Thursday morning I awoke to the cacophony of Australian birds like the ones below. 

These are the kinds of birds that visit C's balcony.  How cool are they?  Answer: very.

After two flights, a four hour stopover in LAX (quite possibly the worst airport I’ve had the misfortune of visiting, and I’ve been to airports in Kenya, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic), and more than 17 hours in the air, I emerged in Toronto.  The sun had set.  It wasn’t 6:00 yet.

This morning, I awoke to the kind of silence only heavy snowfall can bring. It’s a calm, insulated silence. One that is only broken by the whoosh of wind rustling the bare tree limbs, and the rumble of snowplows.

A tug of the blinds revealed a scene straight off of a Hallmark card, or an ad for snow tires.

This shot isn't the best -- It lacks some perspective, no?

Thanks to global warming, white Christmases are no longer a given, even in Canada. But this year, old man winter is certainly delivering stuff.

There have already been a few “snow days” – mornings where the weather is deemed too dangerous for school buses to venture out. There is a good three feet of snow on my mother’s front porch, and an astounding five or so in the back yard.

Ahhhh...there's some much-needed perspective. Now do you see what I'm talking about? 
That there is my sister, Val and Chevy.  They are both awesome.

The dog’s house is under a foot of snow.  My mom dropped her GPS somewhere between the car and the house and hasn't see it since.  It'll likely make an appearance some time in April. The other day, they had to send in a helicopter to rescue some people stranded in their cars during a blizzard on a highway not too far from here.

They don’t call this neck of the woods the snow belt for nothing.

If I knew I had another four or five months of this to go, I’d likely be gnashing my teeth, moaning, you know: lamenting bible-style.  But with only four weeks here, I’m saying “bring it on.”

What we had to drive through to get to town this afternoon.

Macro Chevy!

The Eagle (or I guess, the Canadian Goose) has landed

Am at Toronto's Pearson International airport.  I believe I must have been the third or fourth person to clear customs.  I swear, I was out of there in less than three minutes.  Waiting for my bag was a bit longer, but the gleeful reunion with my mom ad soon-to-be stepdad was not to be.  They're not here yet :( Or maybethey are here, but at the wrong gate,  or even wrong terminal.  Gah!

And yet again, Pearson has let me dow in the Tim Horton's department.  There is none to be found in the area.  Boooo.

Anyway, I'm home!  and I was actually thrilled to see the snow. 

TTFN! and wish me luck in finding my peeps.

Being Seduced by Sydney

Oh Sydney, you gorgeous enchantress you (insert sigh of contentment here).

Your sand-fringed beaches beckon me. Your undulating harbours delight.  Your parks and green spaces charm me.  Your lovely climate soothes me. Your myriad of shopping centres entice. Damn you Sydney.  You had me at Hello.

How lucky I am to be in this utopian city again. It’s a place that is no less beguiling the fourth time around. 

This time, I’m lucky enough to be visiting a very good friend of mine, who we will call C.  C has been living in Sydney since July and has been extremely welcoming to the road-weary traveller crashing on her couch.  Having been here a few times before, I’ve run most of the tourist attractions that interest me (Tauranga Zoo, the Opera House, the aquarium etc.) and after two months of hostels, I’m almost shamefully happy to just sit around an empty apartment all day and watch TV and occasionally cook.

Me with some sort of building in the background.

Hyde Park.

That’s not to say that I have been completely sedentary and loser-ish this past week.  I have been keeping somewhat busy. I’ve spent time rediscovering some familiar haunts such as the Botanic Gardens, Darling Harbour and Hyde Park.  I’ve visited a few of the many beaches.  I’ve avoided buying anything beyond essentials (this is a major accomplishment on my part.  The stores here are both plentiful and oh-so-pretty.  It really is a shoppers’ paradise).

Sydney skyline from the Botanic gardens

A few highlights of the week:

•  One night, C and I attended a get-together of Québecois living in Sydney (we figured being franco-Ontarian counted) at a pub in the trendy area known as The Rocks.  It was heaps of fun (as the Ozzies say).  There were about 25 or 30 people at the gathering and it was great to be around the Québécois humour for a while.  It was also so strange to hear people speaking French with a Canadian accent then with an Australian accent in English – many of the people had learned to speak English here and therefore had the distinctive Aussie twang. 

My first weekend here we somewhat spontaneously headed an hour and a half south to the city of Wollongong.  There we hung out on the beach, explored the downtown, and took in some of the local colour at a rather seedy pub where we both enjoyed a drink and spent the night (hotels/pubs/pokies/bars are common here).

One of the lighthouses near Wollongong beach.

Last weekend we headed north to Newcastle, a city that, for some reason, Lonely Planet named Australia’s place to be.  Newcastle does have its charms, mainly of the beach variety, and the YHA where we stayed was top notch, but the city itself was a bit odd.  Though there are a reputed 400,000 inhabitants, there was no obvious downtown.  Big buildings were scarce, and much of the areas we visited were a bit run down.  No matter, we enjoyed ourselves immensely at the beach and (mainly) avoided sunburns.

Wollongong beach

• 



The huge ocean baths in Newcastle.  They're basically ocean-fed pools next to the beach.  The water is calmer, warmer, and there`s no chance of sharks! They're fairly common at beaches here, but these ones are huge.  They.re actually the biggest in the Southern Hemisphere. 





The main beach in Newcastle

• I went snorkelling at Clovelly beach, a narrow strip of sand and surf between much more popular Bondi and Coogee beaches.

Clovelly beach.  While "snorkeling" (swimming with goggles) I saw quite a few fish, including a particularly nice blue one.

It’s a strange time to be here.  Not only is the Christmas paraphernalia out in force, but so is the Oprah mania.  The talk show queen is in the country officially to film two shows, and unofficially to promote tourism in Australia.  The government actually shelled out $3 million to bring her and some 300 of her viewers here in the hopes of boosting tourism.  Her antics have been dominating the news here for the past week.

The temporarily renamed "Oprah" house.  I feel bad for first-time visitors to Sydney whose view of the iconic building is marred by the stage and all the other eyesores.



The famous Bondi Beach. If you're needing a knock to your ego, this is the place to go. The beach is thicék with hard and bronzed bodies. 



Sydney Harbour bridge.

As you can see, I've been wandering around a bit barefoot here too. In the distance you can see Bondi.

A stunning cemetary overlooking the ocean between Bondi and Coogee beaches

These are a few of my favourite things that I can't have here.

In a very short week, I'll be home and I must say, I'm excited.

Of course I miss the people most of all -- family, friends and, it goes without saying, Chevy the dog.  That's a given.

But loved ones aside, I miss a few other things quite a bit, and I plan on indulging in them at least a few times over the month I will be at home:

• Baths  Showers are good and all, but there's nothing like soaking in warm water and reading a book or even having a glass of wine.
• Sleeping on a real bed    Two words:  Bunk beds.  One number: 31 (years). The two should not mix.
• Tim Horton's hot chocolate and coffee  I will very very likely be scratching this itch within an hour of landing in our fair country.  Sweet.
• marshmallows  It's not that I'm a huge fan or anything, but the marshmallows here are just odd and fake tasting. 
• Poutine  It is a crime that this has not caught on elsewhere, but to be fair, no one makes cheese curds like Quebec (actually, does anyone even try?)
• Air popped popcorn and Kernels  I don't think my love of puffy deliciousness is a secret. It was generally the main component of one meal a week back in Canada. I think I'm suffering from withdrawal.
• Butter tarts  yet another delicacy that hasn't gone global for some unknown reason. Shame.
• Maple Syrup  self explanatory.
• Chips of the all dressed and cheddar variety  They have lots of very good chips here (or crisps as they say in NZ) and in flavuors we don't have in Canada -- Lamb and mint, chicken, balsamic vinegar and onion, sweet and tangy, etc.  But no all dressed or plain cheddar (or dill pickle for that matter, but I don't like them anyway, so I'm OK with that)
• Sandwhiches from La Botegga in Ottawa  Take the best sandwhich you have ever had and throw it to the ground, stomp on it, spit on it, and turn your back on it and walk away to La Botegga and get yourself the most mouth-watering square of cheese, meat and bread you will ever have.  mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
• Pizza from either Picollo's in Lafontaine, or Lorenzo's or Collonade in Ottawa  This part of the world has tons of great Thai, Indian, Japanese, Turkish and Cantonese food.  But for some reason, pizza eludes them.  The crust is dry and bland.  the sause uninspired.  Cheese is woefully scant. Oh, the humanity.  I want a slice (or 5) of pizza dripping with greese and tastiness. 
• President's Choice fizzy water  It's so good, so healthy, and so cheap!
• My mom's granola and soup
  (not together, obviously).  My mom may not know how to glaze a ham to perfection, or how to braise a lamb shank (she's a vegetarian), but the woman makes the best granola and soup.  Bar none.
• Christmas cookies, both the baking and consuming of them  Sugar cookies, shortbread, ginger bread, and -- a personal favourite -- peanut butter balls.  You will be mine.  Oh yes, you will be mine. 

Feel free to enable me in this endeavour.  As you can imagine, I will very likely be putting on 10 pounds or so over the month.  Be warned.

It’s beginning to look a lot like (bizarro) Christmas

I keep having to remind myself that Christmas is a scant few weeks away.  It’s not that there aren’t reminders – stores of every ilk are hawking their wares with a festive spin (“It wouldn’t be Christmas without a new set of patio chairs!”  “Dingo’s World of Socks: For all your Christmas needs” “Get all your Chrissy prezzies at The Athlete’s Foot”). 

Decorations drip from awnings, tree limbs, and window frames. There was even a Santa Clause parade in Auckland last weekend (I missed it) complete with floating snow man (which makes absolutely zero sense given that it’s currently in the mid-twenties there).

Despite all this, I find it impossible to get in the festive spirit.  It’s just too weird to have Christmas lights when the sun doesn’t set until 9:00 pm. And that there are huge fake pine trees decorating building lobbies and public spaces when all the other trees around are fully covered in leaves, and many of them are palms. And that I’m traipsing around in sandals and sporting a rather impressive tan.

Well, in a short week I’ll be back in the land of REAL Christmas. You know, snow, darkness, cold.  Somewhere where the sight of someone in a fur-lined red suit doesn’t make you itchy.  Where “Let it Snow” and “Jingle Bells” and “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire” make sense.

But, I guess “I’m dreaming of a White Christmas” fits for once.

Let's have a look at what Christmas looks like down under:

Decoration in a swank Sydney shopping centre.

Kitchiest Christmas tree ever in Darling Harbour

The coolest Christmas tree in Auckland's Western park.  It was basically strings of lights -- 350,000 of them. Every night there was a light show and there were bean bag chairs set up beneath it so you could lie at the base and watch.  I did for 30 minutes.  It was trippy.

The huge Whitcools Santa and his reindeeer. I guess he's an annual fixture. Two years ago he had an inexplicable wagging finger.  They've scrapped it, unfortunately.

Going Native

An aspect of kiwi culture that I find rather charming and quaint is the fact that going barefoot is so acceptable here. 

It’s actually fitting, given that it’s the unofficial land of Hobbits. 

It’s not uncommon to see folks (men, mostly) traipsing about un-shod in the street, at the shop, or in the mall. Never will you see one of those stern “no shirt, no shoes, no service” signs hanging in a window.  It’s jarring at first, but I really like it now.

I like it so much, that I decided to give it a go last week.  Three days in a row I set out on errands barefoot (though I carried a pair of shoes in my purse, just in case).  It was rough going at first, especially since my first attempt was in an area where the road was rather bumpy and uncomfortable. My next two forays were on smooth sidewalks, through a park and even into a store (!) and it went very well. I’ve been assured that with time, my feet would become tougher. 

I’m not sure I’ll make a big habit of it, especially since I’m going to be away from NZ for the next six weeks, but it was still a fun experience to have.

Island hopping in Auckland

I am quite the neglectful blogger, aren’t I?

A thousand apologies for my absence of late.  I have no excuses beyond general laziness. It happens.

What have I been up to these days? Well, I spent ten days in sunny Auckland going for long walks, catching up with some mates, eating great food and drinking far too much wine.

One of the highlight of the week was that I managed to visit three of the islands in Auckland’s Hauraki Gulf.

Leaving on the ferry from Auckland harbour.

First on the menu was Rangitoto island which, atop of sporting a name that is oh-so-fun to say, is really pretty interesting.  The 5.5km long island formed some 600 years ago after a series of volcanic eruptions. 

From afar, the island’s volcanic heritage is apparent thanks to its conical peak.  Up close, it’s fairly obvious too.  The terrain is littered with dark, jagged rock and the vegetation (of which there was more than I had expected) is of the hardy and stunted variety.  It took me about 45 minutes to walk to the island’s summit and I enjoyed the beautiful views along the way. 

Yet another awkward pose thanks to the ten-second timer.

mmmmmm...old lava

What was less enjoyable was the teeming mass of young teens lounging noisily at the top. It appears that it was a 70-student-strong school group on a field trip. They were well behaved, as far as teens go, but the decibel levels (think giggling, screaming, cell phones playing music) were a bit off putting when all I was hoping to hear were birds and the occasional passing plane.

I shouldn’t have despaired, for I was soon to get that solitude and silence I craved.  Within the hour I had reboarded the ferry (thanks to its handy hop-on, hop-off service) and was deposited on the much grassier Motuihe island. Though the island was far from deserted (a few dozen people alit from the boat at the same time as me and yet another school group was enjoying a field trip on this island), it was much easier to distance oneself from the pack than on Rangitoto thanks to a wide variety of walking tracks.

With nearly three hours to kill before the ferry returned to collect passengers, I quickly set off to explore. Not really knowing where I wanted to go, I decided to wander about and see what the island had to offer.  Turns out it had a fair bit: grassy fields, pretty trees, huge plants, secluded beaches, and lots of birds. Other than the boats drifting by in the distance, I didn’t see another human for over an hour.  It was glorious. 

My own little secluded beach.

On the weekend my friend Inky (whom you may remember from Christchurch some six weeks ago) and I headed out to the most popular of the Hauraki Gulf islands.  A mere half-hour boat ride from Auckland, Waiheke is home to some 8,000 people, and during the summer months, some 3,000+ cottagers, and countless tourists and daytrippers descend on its pretty shores.  It’s not hard to see why. 

From the sky, Waiheke looks like a big ol’ inkspot, which means it boasts dozens of picturesque bays, a number of swimming beaches, and plenty of fishing spots.  Its enviable climate lends itself well to wine production, and as such many small vineyards produce some decent (if pricey) whites.

It was a nice weekend. Inky got to partake in his rugged outdoorsy pursuits (sleeping in the bush, spearfishing, rock climbing, cliff jumping), while I enjoyed the calmer side of island living (sleeping in a hostel, lying on the sand, floating in the sea). An activity we both enjoyed was drinking wine on the beach (wish this was doable in Georgian Bay) and eating a delicious meal at the Skinny Sardine (stuffed chicken breast and sinfully buttery garlic mashed potatoes for me – I’m salivating just thinking about it). 

Setting sun over Auckland.

Sun setting over Waiheke

My last two days in Auckland I didn’t do much beyond tying up some lose ends, repacking my bag, and visiting a friend I’d made my first week in the country.  It was pretty chill.

As many of you have likely see via Facebook, I now find myself in soggy Sydney. It's apparently been raining here an extraordinary amount these past few months (which explains why I’m inside writing rather than enjoying Bondi or Manly beaches). I’m here until the 16^th at which time I’m hopping a plane back to Canada for Christmas and some rather important nuptuals. I’m looking forward to it.

University bound (but not for a while)

Just a short note to let those of you who care know that the University of Victoria (in Wellington) has just offered me a place in their graduate diploma of teaching program.  Huzzah!

I've let them know that I'd like to defer a year and start in 2012.  I'd like to take advantage of the fact that I have a working holiday Visa now since I'll never get a chance to have one again (there's an age limit that, alas, I am beyond).

Hopefully the University will let me get in without having to go through the entire reapplication process again.  In any case, it's great for the morale to have been accepted at both universities, and I'm glad that I can drop the online course I've been doing for Otago -- it was rather stressful having to stay on top of that stuff when I often don't know what day of the week it is.

So thanks again to everyone who helped me with my application -- Denis, Joyce, Rowena, mom, Val, Kathleen, etc.

Taupo: land of trout and falls.

After 10 days in Picton, it was time to head north.  On a very sunny Sunday the 14^th I set off for Wellington, just a hop, skip and a three-hour ferry ride across the Tasman Straight.

Where the ferry goes between the islands.

Half-way through the journey the brilliantly hot sunshine gave way for heavy clouds and, predictably, wind.  For you see, Wellington is known for its wind.  I’ve never been to Chicago, but despite it’s nickname (the windy city) I doubt it has anything on Wellington.  Winds of 60 km an hour hit the city about half of the days of the year.  I resigned myself to three days of wind-whipped hair.

Aaaaaaand I got it.

I spent Monday wrapping up some loose ends and exploring the waterfront (hair firmly ensconced under a hat), which was a little eventful.  On my walk from Oriental Parade to Evans Bay I witnessed a truck sideswiping a parked car, and a really bad argument between a couple.  It was a little scary.  Being alone, I didn’t know what to do – I was about to call 111 (the equivalent of 911) when they took off in their car.  I regret not confronting them and seeing if she was all right, but at the time I didn’t feel comfortable with that. 

How the rich in Wellington get from their car to the house.

The walkway along the water in downtown Wellington.

I didn't see a penguin here, but I did see a sign. :)

On Tuesday, I had the engagement that had brought me to Wellington in the first place – my interview with the University of Victoria’s Faculty of Education.  I say interview, but it was hardly the Q & A session I had envisaged.  I was but one of 10 applicants at the “assessment exercise” (as it was formally called). 

Under the watchful eyes of the directors of the program we basically had a discussion/debate about the most important qualities a teacher should possess.  It was interesting to hear different points of view from the other applicants.  I think I made some good arguments and came across well.  Unfortunately, I may not find out if I’ve been accepted until December 17^th, which is really late, given that classes start exactly a month later.  Sheesh.

The cable car that travels between downtown to the top of the botanic gardens.

In any case, though I really like Wellington, I expect that I’ll be spending a lot more time there in the coming year(s), so I didn’t linger.  The next morning I boarded a bus and seven hours later emerged blinking into the bright, hot Taupo sun.

Smack dab in the middle of the North Island, Lake Taupo measures an impressive 600 sq km, making it by far the largest lake in New Zealand (though it’s a mere pond when you compare it to the behemoths we have in North America). It is actually a water-filled crater of a super volcano that last erupted some 1800 years ago with spectacular results. It was such a massage blast that the ash it spewed forth darkened the sky halfway across the world – There are records of both the Egyptians and Chinese writing about the red sky around that time. It was very likely the biggest eruption in recorded history.

This picture sucks.  The day before there was aamzing views of the snow-capped volcanos in Tongariro National Park across the water, but my camera's batteries were dead.  Since then, the clouds have completely obscured them. Curses!

Sitting on the water’s edge, looking out at its smooth docility, it’s hard to imagine that Lake Taupo was ever capable of such cataclysmic doings.  Today it’s a resort town most known for its trout fishing (trout were introduced by humans some 120 years ago) and the nearby Huka Falls.

It was to those falls that I directed myself this morning. From the town centre, the falls are about an hour’s walk away.  And what a nice walk it was.  The path starts off in the evocatively-named Spa Thermal Park, next door to Taupo’s bungy spot (alas, though I waited ten minutes, no one took the literal plunge while I was there). 

An uninteresting bungy shot.

The park is thus named in honour of the hot spring that tinkles steamily into the much cooler Waikato River.  I’m constantly amazed and delighted by all this natural hot water spewing from the ground here.  It really is amazing to plunge your feet into what your brain is telling you should be icy wetness only to find yourself recoiling at unexpected near-scalding water. 

I lingered at the stream for a few minutes, relishing the warmth of the stream and experience science at work as the hot water of the stream met the cold water of the river – it was altogether bizarre to feel the cold water around my feet while at the same time my calves were roasting.

You can kind of see the steam rising from this stream.

The path winds its way along the western banks of the delightfully blue Waikato River to Huka Falls some 2.8 km away.  The river itself is deceptively placid for much of the way. 

The Waikato River looking oh so calm.

As with most kiwi rivers, the water is clear and clean, and it meanders along fairly calmly until all of a sudden it’s not so calm anymore.  The river suddenly narrows from some 40m or so to a mere 10m. This bottleneck causes the water to shoot out with a force that is, in a word, impressive.

The river gets a bit wilder...



...and then BOOM!

It’s hardly the tallest or the most beautiful waterfall in the country – frankly, it looks manmade.

 

According to the handy little signposts next to the falls, there are 200,000 litres of water that cascade over the 9m falls every second.  In the space of a minute, the falls could fill five Olympic sized swimming pools.  It’s no wonder that kiwis have capitalized on this awesome force to generate energy. The river supplies more than half of the North Island’s total energy needs and more than a third of the entire country’s.  That’s a lot of power.

So I’m here in Taupo for another day. And given that it’s rather crappy weather, I’m not planning much today – Internet, some errands in town, perhaps a bit of a walk.  Ho hum.  Tomorrow I’m off to Auckland where I’ll spend a chunk of time before leaving for Sydney.

The beach is littered with pumice stones – you know those things you buy to grate the dead skin and callouses off your feet? – which look like regular rocks, but are in fact incredibly light. 

They even float.

A little bit about some of the birds of New Zealand

Now’s the time you’ve all been waiting for: A kiwi history-biology lesson!  (hisology? Biostory?).  Yay!

A scant thousand years ago the three islands that make up New Zealand (North Island, South Island, Stewart Island) were green and bushy places positively writhing with jolly birdlife. The reason these birds were so jolly was that they OWNED this land. There were the giants: the Haast’s Eagle with its three-metre wingspan ruled the sky, while the mighty moa, that at four meters of height stood as the tallest bird in the world, dominated the ground. There were also some more modest species: the interesting huia, the colourful takahe, and of course the kiwi.

At that time the lone mammal round these parts was a bat, so the only predators birds had to worry about were other, bigger birds. With threats only coming from above, the ground was a pretty safe to be. Many species decided that flying was for chumps and just stopped doing it.  After a while, they evolved so that they couldn’t fly if they tried (not sure if they have). Their best defence mechanism was to stand perfectly still to avoid detection from above.

All was cool for a long time, but then, around a thousand years ago, something rather cataclysmic happened. A bunch of boats landed on NZ’s shore. 

When the Polynesian men, women and children disembarked from their vessels, it was the first time a non-flying mammal had set foot on New Zealand soil.  That’s when the trouble began.

Let’s face it, were not exactly a species known for its conservation efforts.  Predictably, the first New Zealanders went a little hog wild with the hunting and within a few hundred years, the moa, and the Haasts’s eagle (who depended on the moa for food) were mere memories. 

What was even worse for the native birds was the cargo the humans brought with them. Dogs and rats had a gay old time snuffling about the bush and wrestling up some unsuspecting flightless birds by the thousands.  It was devastating to the bird population, who, you will recall, defended itself by standing still to avoid detection – not so effective a strategy when dealing with a snarling beast on land. 

Over the centuries, man misguidedly introduced other harmful species to NZ – the cat, the stoat, the ferret, the possum, sheep, cows – which, either through hunting or over-grazing, have all contributed to drastically lowering the endemic bird population here.

Nowadays, there are countless measures to try and save native birds – hunting them is strictly forbidden, fences are in place in some areas to try and keep out cats and dogs, stoat and possum traps dot the country’s forests, the government encourages farmers and land owners to hunt the pests. But it’s all a drop in the bucket.

Likely one of the most successful endeavours is the creation of a number of bird sanctuaries; islands that have been cleared of predators and populated with endemic birds.  There are a number of these islands around the country, and for the first time last week, I got to visit one.

Motuara Island taken from the Queen Charlotte Track

Motuara Island is situated in the Queen Charlotte Sounds a good hour and a half boat ride from Picton. If you’re already doing the Queen Charlotte Track, for an extra $7 the taxi boat companies will drop you off on the island and pick you up an hour and a half later to ferry you to the start of the track five minutes away.

What a great experience. I was but one of ten people on the island that morning, and we were all respectfully silent in speech and soft of footstep. Birdsong was the only thing to be heard most of the time. Often I was completely alone with the birds for long stretches. There was a path from the wharf that corkscrewed its way around the island and led up to a lookout tower at the top. Walking very slowly, it took me about half an hour to reach the top. 

So, there’s not much to say.  It was quiet.  It was serene.  The birds seemed happy and peaceful.  For twenty minutes at the end of my time there I was completely alone as the other people had come over on a different boat than me. So let’s have a look at some of the birds I saw, yeah?

This little robin was one of the many who were excedingly friendly.  Stop walking for a minute and you'd have at least one or two of them alighting on nearby branches.  At one point I sat still for five minutes and had four of them all hopping within mere cm of me. It was really cute.



The path on Motuara island.

A native New Zealand pigeon.  The thing was HUGE.

A red-crowned parakeet

The friendly grey robin.  As you can see, they were tagged.  I don't think the other species were.

I could be wrong, but I think this is a yellowhammer.

A little blue penguin!  She's not in a cage.  That's her nest, which happens to be just beside the track. She can leave at any time. The netting is there to prevent stupid tourists from trying to touch her and getting bit for their efforts. We made eye contact.  I was enthralled.  She was bored and likely a little annoyed.

A silverfern unfurling.

A sun-dappled mature silverfern.