“May I introduce you to viewers?” the interviewer asked.
“Just call me Eruera.”
“I understand the huia was found on your land.”
“I stand here on the Motu River which is our river as Whanokao is our mountain. The western side of the Raukumara Ranges between them is our tribal land, the land belonging to Te Whanau-a-Apanui. We hold the land from Tane and Papatuanuku, the forest and the earth.”
“I believe the huia is the Maori royal bird.”
“It is the symbol of chieftainship, of rangatiratanga, shown by the headdress I am wearing. The number of feathers are an indication of rank. There is a saying ‘Maka iho te kotuku te huia hei whakapaipai mona’.”
“Would you mind explaining that for our viewers?”
“‘Put the feathers of the kotuku and the huia as ornaments for him’. The kotuku and the huia are both birds which belong to the highest levels of the heavens. The kotuku is the bird of wisdom, the huia the bird of authority. Queen Victoria, for example, was given the kotuku emblem.”
“Perhaps some of our present leaders could do with that emblem,” the interviewer smiled. “Would you tell us now what you are doing about the huia?”
“We have had a ceremony to welcome it back to the land of the living,” he said gently. “We will be calling a hui at Te Kaha to decide on its kaitiakitanga, its guardianship.”
“Does that mean you’re going to keep it for yourselves?” he was asked.
“Though it has been discovered on our land and is therefore our taonga and a member of our iwi, we are trustees for the royal bird and are pleased to share its mana.”
The genial, big-jowled, smiling face of the Minister of Forests, Sir Robert Roydhouse, then appeared against the books and the panelled wall of his office in Parliament. A New Zealand flag hung prominently behind his desk. Proudly he read a carefully worded message from Queen Elizabeth II.
“The circumstances which led to the extinction of this magnificent bird have been long regretted by all. May its rediscovery lead to a rekindling of the mana of the great Maori people. May this people whose partnership with the Crown is enshrined once and for all in the Treaty of Waitangi ever hold fast the riches of their heritage in the beautiful land of Aotearoa-New Zealand.”
“How many people are watching this programme?” he was asked by the interviewer.
“As you no doubt know, the international media interest has been considerable,” he replied.
“Do you think the huia is more popular than the All Blacks?”
Sir Robert laughed. “Looks like it – at the moment.”
“Do you mind if I touch on another subject. Many of our viewers are disturbed about the highway hold-ups and the fact that no arrests have been made. Some of the perpetrators are said to be claiming rangatiratanga for their actions. Is there any connection with the huia discovery?”
“None whatsoever. The Maori people are totally behind us and completely reject any connection with the hold-ups.”
“So your message is that in New Zealand all races are united in environmental protection?” said the interviewer.
Beneath the New Zealand flag, the broad, chubby face lit up with an enormous grin.
“Absolutely.”
Now the interviewer introduced Kevin Carr. He was sitting on a log against a background of native bush, a short, insignificant-looking man with a pencil moustache, probably in his mid-thirties. Apparently very shy, he avoided looking at the camera and appeared to be reading prepared notes. As a member of the Ornithological Society of New Zealand, he spoke initially of his extensive research into the huia and said that it had long been his ambition to rediscover it. He described the Society’s stringent requirements for the authentication of rare bird discoveries and showed how meticulous he had been in following these requirements in his report. The report had been made direct to the Director-General who had flown up from Wellington to Rotorua. He had been gratified when Dr Holcroft not only accepted his report, but immediately gazetted the whole of the Waitoa Valley as a huia sanctuary. He then gave from his rare bird report the date, the time of day, the state of the weather, especially the visibility, and described the bird, its size, colour, physical description, eating, walking and flying habits and its call. He described his camera and the setting he had used as well as the magnification of his telescope.
There appeared on the screen the photograph of the huia he had rediscovered. Kate saw that it was a female huia with the longer beak, and it was perched on what appeared to be a fuchsia bough. For a moment the strange thought passed through her mind that she had seen it before.
“Would you describe the actual sighting, please, Kevin?”
“The first thing I noticed was some unusual pecking marks on an old rimu log, the sort of log where you get a lot of huhu grubs. I immediately stopped and listened. Then I heard an unusually rich flute-like whistle. I called to Harry Wilson, my assistant wildlife adviser, and we both lay down behind the log. I adjusted my camera and telescope and then we covered ourselves with as much foliage as possible. Although I had never heard the sound before, I found it quite easy to imitate. Immediately after I called, a bird flew down spreading its white-tipped tail feathers and landed about twenty feet away on a low branch. It was a female bird, and seemed to be looking round for what she thought was her mate. I focussed the telescope on her and managed to get one camera shot, but as soon as the huia heard the click it flew off. Harry saw it too, but unfortunately, when we brought the rest of the party, we could not entice it again although we called several times.”
“Could you make the sound of the huia for viewers,” asked the interviewer.
He pursed his lips, and uttered a rather ordinary whistle.
If I were a huia, I wouldn’t have been fooled, thought Kate.
If he had been Sir Walter Buller, he would have shot it and brought it back. Kevin could only bring a photo. What a magnificent sight, she thought – all that rich blue-black plumage, its bright orange lappets at the base of the beak and the long spreading tail with its band of white at the end.
She looked more carefully at the photo and again it looked familiar yet not familiar.
Then suddenly she realised what it resembled. On the desk in her study was a picture – Keulemans’ plate in the 1967 edition of Buller’s Birds. She looked at it every day.
How odd!
The interviewer was now talking to the Director-General, Dr Holcroft, in the Forestry offices in Wellington. Behind him were photos of the takahe, the saddleback, the black petrel and brown kiwi, all in their natural habitat. He was a short, dry, scholarly-looking man, and his head and eyes had a habit of darting about in quick bird-like movements.
“Why do you think the huia was found in this valley?”
“The remoteness and ruggedness of the situation indicate that predators, especially the Norwegian rat, may not have penetrated there.”
“What measures have you taken to protect the huia?”
“I have set up a rigorous exclusion zone in the Waitoa Valley and have withdrawn the new management plan which envisaged further tracks, huts, helipads and tourist flight licences in the surrounding Raukumara.”
“So this is a change of policy from that of your predecessor. Won’t this affect the potential tourist income and possible income from mining licences?”
“The huia is a treasure beyond price.”
“Will the public object to being excluded from the Waitoa?”
“The Raukumara are a wilderness area and very few trampers go in there because of the mountainous terrain and the difficulty of access.”
“What about the process of consultation? You seem to have acted very quickly on this discovery.”