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!

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.

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.