Akaroa

akaloa

Cool (adj) - Wearing New Zealand shirts in New Zealand

 

 

 

Farmdog Phoebe and her four puppies

We had few options after leaving Tekapo - the Mt. Somers Track in Canterbury and the Queen Charlotte Track in Marlborough were both flooded, and we could not afford to pay for accommodation while waiting out a week of rain.  We were lucky then to so easily find a work-exchange on the Onuku Farm Hostel in Akaroa, one of our very favorite towns in New Zealand.  We visited Akaroa last April when we walked the Banks Peninsula Track, and the first night's accommodation on the walk was actually on the Onuku Farm. 

The Onuku Farm Hostel just re-opened after being closed for the winter, so for about two and a half weeks we spent our mornings helping our friends Gemma, Tom, Jeff, and D get the place in order for the busy season.  It rained what seemed like every day, and the gale-force winds at night must have just failed to pick our caravan up and throw it into the sky.  But the poor weather gave us much time to sit in front of the fireplace and read, talk, draw, and nap.  We also taught ourselves to bake bread, and thanks to Peter Reinhart, we are now baking some serious stuff.  It's a new chapter in life.  In all, it was borderline hibernation.

I began to sense a dark undercurrent of evil in the animals of Akaroa, though.  My pants were gnawed on by donkeys, I was divebombed by an Australian Magpie*, and after finishing a day walk we were charged at by a horned cow!  We also experienced three aftershocks, the last a 5.5.  Warnings, perhaps, because on the morning of our departure Canterbury experienced major flooding.  We forded some minor floodzones on the highway, but when we saw about six sedans all pulled over to the side of the road, we knew things were now real.  In the riskiest decision of the trip ("WE'VE GOT A FERRY TO CATCH!  BUCKLE UP.") we forded the 100 yard flood.  We felt lucky to have not been stuck there, water flowing up to our car doors, but it wasn't until we arrived in Picton and turned on the radio that we realized how lucky we were.  Emergency services were still in the process of rescuing 35 trapped people.

The adventure continued, as the same storm that flooded Canterbury made for one miserable boatride to the North Island.  Every passenger was either barfing in the bathroom or lying flat on the ground, chasing the lowest center of gravity possible.  This to the tune of howling winds and shattering dishes in the ferry's kitchen.  Once we got through the strait the ride calmed down, but it was too windy to dock at Wellington.  After an hour of sitting in the harbor we were told a tugboat would come and guide us in.  An hour later we were told the tugboat couldn't handle the wind.  And finally, by the sixth hour, we docked and arrived in metropolitan Wellington, where we are now feasting on inexpensive and wonderful food and culture.

The Rugby World Cup finals are tomorrow (New Zealand vs France), and this is the place to watch it.  Next is an abbreviated tramping tour of the North Island, before selling our car and flying to Bangkok at the end of November.  The city is now literally opening the floodgates, so we are hoping for the best.


* I was attacked twice, walking to and returning from Akaroa, and I was followed by the bird for about another half mile, until it decided I was truly leaving the area (I was sprinting!).  Thankfully things did not escalate to the more advanced attack stages.  Much more on Australian Magpies, from a funny Wikipedia article, and you need to know it all:

"Magpies are ubiquitous in urban areas all over Australia, and have become accustomed to people. A small percentage of birds become highly aggressive during breeding season from late August to early October, and will swoop and sometimes attack passersby. The percentage has been difficult to estimate but is significantly less than 9%. Almost all attacking birds (around 99%) are male, and they are generally known to attack pedestrians at around 50 m (150 ft) from their nest, and cyclists at around 100 m (300 ft). Attacks begin as the eggs hatch, increase in frequency and severity as the chicks grow, and tail off as the chicks leave the nest.

These magpies may engage in an escalating series of behaviors to drive off intruders. Least threatening are alarm calls and distant swoops, where birds fly within several metres from behind and perch nearby. Next in intensity are close swoops, where a magpie will swoop in from behind or the side and audibly "snap" their beaks or even peck or bite at the face, neck, ears or eyes. More rarely, a bird may dive-bomb and strike the intruder's (usually a cyclist's) head with its chest. A magpie may rarely attack by landing on the ground in front of a person and lurching up and landing on the victim's chest and peck at the face and eyes.

Magpie attacks can cause injuries, typically wounds to the head and particularly the eyes, with potential detached retinas and bacterial infections from a beak used to fossick in the ground. A 13-year-old boy died from tetanus, apparently from a magpie injury, in northern New South Wales in 1946. Being unexpectedly swooped while cycling is not uncommon, and can result in loss of control of the bicycle, which may cause injury. In Ipswich, a 12 year old boy was killed in traffic while trying to evade a swooping magpie on 16 August 2010.

If it is necessary to walk near the nest, wearing a broad-brimmed or legionnaire's hat or using an umbrella will deter attacking birds, but beanies and bicycle helmets are of little value as birds attack the sides of the head and neck. Eyes painted on hats or helmets will deter attacks on pedestrians but not cyclists. Attaching a long pole with a flag to a bike is an effective deterrent. As of 2008, the use of cable ties on helmets has become common and appears to be effective. Magpies prefer to swoop at the back of the head; therefore, keeping the magpie in sight at all times can discourage the bird. Using a basic disguise to fool the magpie as to where a person is looking (such as painting eyes on a hat, or wearing sunglasses on the back of the head) can also prove effective. In some cases, magpies may become extremely aggressive and attack people's faces; it may become very difficult to deter these birds from swooping. Once attacked, shouting aggressively and waving one's arms at the bird should deter a second attack. If a bird presents a serious nuisance the local authorities may arrange for that bird to be legally destroyed, or more commonly, to be caught and translocated to an unpopulated area. Magpies have to be moved some distance as almost all are able to find their way home from distances of less than 25 km (15 mi). Removing the nest is of no use as birds will breed again and possibly be more aggressive the second time around.

[...]

The Magpies is the most famous poem by New Zealand poet Denis Glover (1912–1980). It helped define New Zealand's distinctive style of poetry. The poem was first published in Glover's 1964 anthology Enter Without Knocking.

Over the course of six short stanzas, the life of a farming couple from young man and wife through to their death of old age is recounted, each verse finishing with the couplet:

'And Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle/The magpies said,'

except for the last verse, in which the last word is 'say.'

The intention of the poem is to indicate the passage of time and yet the timelessness of nature. A human lifetime passes, yet the underlying natural life - symbolised by the unchanging backdrop of the magpies' call - remains unchanging.

The phrase imitating the call of the Australian Magpie is one of the most well-known lines in New Zealand poetry."