“SAS? They always train secretly.”
Bill shrugged.
“What about Forestry?”
There was no answer.
Stan did not repeat the question. He couldn’t understand Bill’s suspicions and normally he wouldn’t dream of violating a sanctuary. But at this moment the suggestion fell on fertile ground. He hated being prevented from achieving his ambition; he hated being worsted by a man like Kevin Carr. His anger overrode his judgment. All he wanted to do was to get to the Waitoa.
The thrill of discovery came flooding back, but with it came something else, a feeling which he tried to stifle. Was it defiance, or was it a vague premonition of danger?
Two days after leaving the Waiwawa Hut they compass-crashed through matted leatherwood on the eastern slopes of Devil’s Peak, then descended rocky bluffs by rope. As mist gave way to darkness, they made camp on the banks of a small stream running through the fuchsia forest. It was the headwaters of the Waitoa.
CHAPTER 4
Kate Fairweather was so excited over the morning’s Herald that she forgot breakfast. There it was – the bird itself in the middle of the front page and the bold type splashed right across the next two pages of the first edition of the year:
WELCOME BACK, ROYAL BIRD!
The almost legendary royal bird of the Maori people, the huia, lives again! Deep in the heart of the Raukumara Ranges, New Zealand’s largest and most impenetrable forested mountain system stretching from the Urewera to East Cape, a huia has been sighted. The discovery was made by Kevin Carr, a member of the Ornithological Society, on a special expedition to the Waitoa Valley on December 29th and has been confirmed by Dr Gerald Holcroft, recently appointed Director-General of the New Zealand Forest Service.
Dr Holcroft said the description tallied in all respects and was from a reputable source. “In view of the significance of this discovery, the Department in conjunction with the whanau Apanui upon whose land the huia has been found has closed the valley. It is now taking steps to gazette the whole of the Waitoa Valley as a permanent huia sanctuary to come under the most rigid scientific classification of reserve with public entry completely forbidden. Now that the huia has been rediscovered, we want to give it every chance to live and breed without interference. It has sadly to be admitted that the presumed extinction of this magnificent bird has been mainly the result of human greed,” he concluded.
“That’s for sure!” Kate read on.
The huia is larger than a tui, but smaller than a magpie. It is glossy black with beautiful white tail plumes. An interesting feature is that the beak of the female is three times the length of the beak of the male, an example of division of labour between the sexes. After the male has broken up a log with his strong, short beak, the female inserts her longer beak to extract the grubs. The sexual differentiation in the beaks makes the sexes mutually interdependent, and they mate for life.
The officer in charge of the new sanctuary, Dick Burton, wildlife ranger at Rotorua, stated: “I have been on several expeditions to the Huiarau Ranges in the Urewera, and never saw a huia, though we once saw a log that could have been pecked by one. The only reason the huia have survived in the Waitoa Valley is quite simple. Probably no humans have ever been in there. The huia have just kept retreating to the inaccessible ranges of the east, as man has advanced with his burning, logging, hunting, making tracks, huts and National Parks. The only way to keep the huia there is to keep people out.”
“Absolutely right!”
The huia was greatly prized by the Maori for its decorative tail feathers. These plumes were worn by rangatira on ceremonial occasions, and hence the huia has often been referred to as the royal or sacred bird. This very fact became the undoing of the huia. With the coming of the Pakeha, two things happened. The old tapu which restricted the hunting season for the huia were weakened. At the same time the huia feathers became more commonly worn, and began to command a very high value on the market. A large-scale slaughter commenced. This reached its height round the turn of the century. In 1902 when the Duke of York visited New Zealand, there was an insatiable demand for huia feathers by all Maori of chiefly rank. Another factor was the reduction of the natural habitat of the huia by the clearing of the bush in the lowland areas of the North Island. By the early 1900s protective measures were too weak and too late. The last authenticated sighting of a huia was in the Tararua Ranges in December 1907. Since then there have been many reported sightings, but none have been authenticated.
She got up from the breakfast table, unhooked the phone in the hall and dialled a number. “What a great way to start the New Year, John! Forestry have got their priorities right at last.”
John McTaggart was the chairman of the Auckland Branch of the Ornithological Society. “Yes, the new Director-General comes from a different camp than the last.”
“They mention the Duke of York but not Andreas Reischek. Didn’t he have a special studio in Auckland just for stuffing huia which he sent back to Austria?”
“It was all a case of supply and demand. They were a world-class bird and there was a huge demand by European museums and big money being offered. The trouble was in the 1880s there were cameras but they were too cumbersome to lug into the bush. You had to have either a stuffed bird or a painted one. Even Sir Walter Buller shot or captured a few and got Keulemans to paint them when he brought them out. Keulemans’ paintings are as good as photos.”
Mentally Kate made a note to have another look at Keulemans’ painting of the huia in the 1967 reprint of Buller in the Society’s Library. “I suppose it was the sexually differentiated feeding habits which made them unique.”
“Wouldn’t suit you,” John chuckled. “You’d have to have a husband to do your foraging.”
Kate at 29 was probably the youngest secretary the Society had ever had. Because she was enthusiastic, intelligent, attractive and efficient, they could hardly believe their good fortune when she offered her services. She was not put off by the lack of eligible young men in the Society. Her career and birds were her passions. “If I had to rely on a man like that, I’d never get married.”
“Husbands are sometimes useful for paying the food bills.”
She snorted. “You’re living in the past, John!”
“Like the huia, you mean.”
“Seriously though, if I recall, wasn’t Stan headed for the same valley?”
“That’s the one, the Waitoa.”
“Poor Stan!”
“Best thing that could have happened. He and Bill are getting far too old for that sort of country. I wish Stan hadn’t got this ridiculous bug about discovering a forgotten valley. All part of his crusade about keeping the wilderness. Now Forestry have done it all for him.”
John was an accountant, hardworking, conscientious, honest, but a little unimaginative. He was a person to whom you went for balanced and careful professional advice. Kate wondered how well he understood his considerably older brother. “Pity the huia had to be found by a type like that, though.”
“Who? Kevin you mean? Don’t be catty. I know he’s rather shy and not all that well known in the Society. Probably hasn’t been on enough trips.”
“Only one interest, that’s why,” she said. “Only birds he wants to look for are those heading for extinction.”
“That’s right. He was on the trip to Little Barrier when we were looking for kokako. Though strangely enough the thing I remember most about him then was his argument with Stan.”
“What happened?” asked Kate. “I’m sorry I missed that trip.”