NaNoWriMo 2012, Day 10 - Roadtrip!

Wordcount:  Daily = 1,142 , Total = 19,191 

Percentage: 38.38% (115% of target)

Not a vast amount of writing today, with good reason - today I got to meet my cast!

In Christchurch, it was a lovely, clear - if not exactly sunny, day so we decided to head up into Arthur's Pass to see the area where my story is set. I did not have my sights set too high on seeing kea - sometime you do, sometimes you don't - the last few times we had, but I figured this time we might not.

After crossing over the Bealey River we stopped at Klondyke corner, and there we saw a silver car parked, a large olive green bird perched upon the back. We parked alongside and he regarded us quizzically before continuing to hop around the car.  He was inquisitive rather than destructive - if he had started tugging at stuff, I WOULD have chased him away - not videoed him! Well, only a little bit, maybe ^^

Looking at himself in the wing mirror (while Tim kills a sandfly)

 With my awesome kea identification skills, I can tell you that he was a young male, probably 3 or so years old. He was also banded - but I forgot to note down the colours as I was being eaten alive by sandflies at the time. We then had to drive around him to get out, and sit and wait until he had walked out of the way, because there is no way at all I wished to be responsible for the death of a male kea almost at breeding age!

The weather report that declared it would be quite warm and not wet (5% precipitation) in Arthur's Pass turned out to be 100% inaccurate, as the clouds were heavy with moisture that turned to a steady drizzle by mid afternoon, alas ruining my plans to run away and photograph various cottages and things that I might like to use in my story. I guess that shall have to be done via street view - or a return visit this friday (I am seriously contemplating heading up there and staying the night).

But here are some of the places mentioned in the story:
This is the Visitor's Centre. In the carpark were three kea, at least two of which were young males. One had two white bands saying "G" and "O", I think. He did sit on a red car and have a vague attempt at pulling off the car aerial, while one person sat inside the car and another photographed him (I am not sure if the latter was the car's driver, but suspect it was so). Across the road a group of tourists were removing the rubber from their window wipers, presumerably to prevent the keas doing it for them. One walked across the road (luckily, no cars about) to see what they were up to, then proceeded to fly up and roost on a campervan.

This is another young male - but this one is probably only a year old. See how more pronounced the yellow ring around his eye and cere are? Indeed, he could well be Pakari! The "King of the Visitor's Centre" in my novel.

Further along, we come to the cafe, which also features prominently:
If you enlarge this image, you will see there is a kea on the peak of the roof.

Noone was eating outside - it was too cold for that, but three keas were hanging around. As we were walking over to have lunch, we heard the rather distinctive sound of a cup breaking. Yes, some foolish person had left their coffee cup out on the table - and the kea had pushed it off.

This young fellow was banded "R" and "R" with the same white bands - flimsy looking but very easy to read from afar - so I reckon someone must be up there studying them. He's got a sort of look in his eye and I reckon that he's a deadringer for Raweke, my mischevious fellow with a pechant for human clothing.

And this guy wasn't banded at all, but when I came close to him, he just stared at me, like he knew something I didn't. I hereby dub him Tiriki, the "hero" of my novel.

There was a third as well, but he remained off in the background - classic Totoa behaviour - he's the staunch one.

The only one of my gang I didn't find was Hiwa - but female kea (they have a shorter bill, that's how you can tell) are much shyer than males, so she was probably off somewhere eating quietly.

We then drove over the highpoint of the pass and ventured up Otira valley - heading for the overbridge. Alas, as we crossed over from east into west, the weather turned distinctly West Coast. We braved the valley anyway - making sure our car was locked and valuables on our person (someone I know had their car broken into up there, and NOT by keas). And picked our way up the valley.

Which is beautiful. The colours are an extraordinary array.

Snow Day!

I've lived in Christchurch for around 18 years. We moved here in 1993, the year after the so-called "big snow of 1992" which was the regions heaviest in 30 years. It was so bad that they lost power, many farmers lost their sheep and an ice-skating rink's roof collapsed under the snow fall.

So, although we've had patchy snow some winters, the last time we had real, genuine, stick-around-and-make driving-hazardous was about four years ago when I lived at my old flat. It melted during the day and turned to slush.

Today has trumped that. I woke up early to the eerie orange-white glow of fluroescent lights reflecting off the snow. Outside the world was transformed by white. After a quick check of my car:

... I decided that backing out the long driveway would probably result in me running into a wall and I didn't fancy shovelling the whole thing only to skid on slippery, pot-holed* roads. So I thought I'd catch the bus.

No buses - so I decided to walk.

Now, I've walked to work on numerous occasions - it's a 5-6 km walk partly through Hagley Park. But walking in the dark and the snow was a surreal experience. For one thing, the streets were so quiet - a few inchworming cars slushed past me, and one bold cyclist, but the world was like a desolate white wonderland. The piles of bricks, the broken houses, all covered in a shroud of snow. My broken city had been painted in beautiful hues. Halfway there, I "picked up" one of my co-workers and we walked through the park together. Haunting and beautiful - the black of the bare trees a stark contrast against the white of the snow. We passed a lone skiier, taking advantage of the large stretch of (at that point) pristine snow. During the last stretch, we hit a full-on blizzard, which was not pleasant.

Arriving at work, there were not enough to run the business, and with fears of worse weather to come, we decided to remain closed. And thus we began the long walk home.

It was actually fun - the first half at any rate. Snowmen were being constructed by the sides of the road, and snowball fights - I even copped one from a passing car. Children out playing on snowboards. We watched a few people get stuck in the snow, and require a push and I was indeed grateful that I had not driven. After leaving my companion, things got worse. The snow started coasting down and the footpath was about 15cm deep - slippery and treacherous. By now my body temperature had melted the snow on my clothing and I was soaked as well. I struggled on, afraid to stop and finally, thankfully reached home and a change of clothes.

Yes folks, I walked 12 km in the snow.
How's that for a work-out?

You can see how deep the snow was by this picture of our backyard table:

But, Hagley Park was beautiful.

But will I walk to work in ankle deep snow again? Well maybe when...

* to be fair, most of the potholes have now be filled in, but the roads still dip and rise unexpectedly

I discovered the concept of "Toy Photography" thanks to the blog: Lens Addiction in which it was mentioned (although she had not done any of it herself). So I decided it was a fun project - after all, toys don't move and you can therefore take your time to line up the shots. I also have a rather large collection of toy animals called "yowies". My mother and I went mad collecting them, and I cannot help but wonder if we were the cause of their demise - ie: we stopped and therefore sales of them declined below which made them worth making. Needless to say, you can't buy Yowies off the shelf anymore, but the toys are still out there.

Please excuse the fact that I can't remember the names of most of these species.

Scorpion vs spider:

Beware! A snake lurks in the leaf litter...

A pretty moth roosts on a winter flower:

(note that the finger holding it in place is carefully cropped)

Eek! It's a Carpet Python!

A tiny treefrog seeks moisture where he can find it:

Food is Art, Photography Swap

I'm into hosting photography swaps at the moment, mainly because they allow a different sort of creativity. And since I'm into photographing food, I figured I might as well share it with people.

So here's some of my tasty offerings, these ones I made myself:

Kumura and Banana Salad (with cashews)

Nachoes with some sort of mushroom patty (at a guess)

Autumn Waffles with summer fruit

SocNoc, Day 16 and some random mailboxes

Today's Wordcount: 770
Total Wordcount: 36, 864
(includes the part written before SocNoc - 4143 words)
Percentage: 65.4%

Today's effort = shameful. I woke up early to watch the eclipse but could not settle to write and as today is my long day at work - I finished after 9pm, I have just spent the last two hours fluffing around on the interweb and managed a grand total of maybe 100 words. It's just not flowing because I'm too tired to concentrate.

So I believe it is time for bed.

Here's some photographs of mailboxes:

The first was taken in Cairns, the second in the Daintree (yes, it's a microwave), Queensland, Australia.

The third was on the way to work (you really don't want to see the house it's standing in front of. Let's just say they're taking "open plan living" to a new level) and the whale was on Kauai'i, Hawaii.
I also photographed the mailbox outside my old flat - painted up pretty by my flatmates. But alas the weather and neglect have taken their toll and it's a bit shabby now. Their neighbour's brick box was cracked in half!

(These have nothing at all to do with my story. Nothing whatsoever. I'm just participating in a mailbox ATC photoswap on AFA and I wanted to put something marginally interesting here)

Tiritiri Matangi - a Twitcher's Paradise

Birdsong surrounds me – the chortle of the saddleback, the beautiful melody of tuis and bellbirds, warring with each other to be the loudest. I have just stepped off the boat and onto Tiritiri Matangi, one of the Hauraki Gulf's so-called “treasure islands.” As a predator-free, bird sanctuary, it certainly earns this title. The island is small in size, measuring only 220 hectares, but rich in birdlife.

We have walked only a few metres from the dock when two black birds explode from the bushes beside us and flap away, chuckling in disdain at the interruption. Juvenile saddlebacks, I surmise. Near them a bellbird proclaims his presence loudly to the world.

We make our way to the little bay of Hobb's Beach, where various litter and other detritus swept in from the mainland rather detracts from the natural beauty. A family of black oystercatchers fossick quietly, undisturbed by our presence. They call to each other with piercing whistles. Here my husband, Tim, and I head inland, up the Cable Road to the Ridge Road. The path is wide and grassy, the sun shining brightly upon us. Birds chatter and call to one another as a flock of whiteheads flutters through the trees. These dumpy wee birds were once very common on the North Island, now their numbers are few. Here, however, they flourish and continue to grace us with their noisy presence throughout our exploration.

Our group has now dispersed in various directions and we decide to make our way across the island and along the East Coast Track. We are woking on the assumption that as it is not included in any but the longest of the “suggested routes” it is likely to be less populated than the others. This does mean that we forego the opportunity to travel the Ngati Paoa track. We have not travelled far along the Ridge Road when I hear a melodious call coming from the bushes.

Immediately, I move into Twitcher mode, and start peering around, looking for it. Tim calls to me quietly, pointing. A large bird has flapped out of the trees in front of us. On long, sturdy legs, the kokako lands and proceeds to peck about on the grassy path. I fumble for the camera and take a series of shots. My heart pounds with excitement. Kokako are one of the rarest birds in our forests, in the South Island they are extinct. I have seen them before – in captivity at Mount Bruce, but to see one wild and free is a real treat.

Kokako are fascinating birds: they prefer not to fly, but leap around the trees like avian monkeys. Their song is one of the most haunting melodies you will ever hear. And they have “accents”. When the original birds were established on Tiritiri, they refused to pair up and it was eventually realised that it was not that they did not like each other, but more that they had not recognised each other's songs. More birds were captured and brought in from the same region and pairing did occur. Another interesting thing to note about kokako is that there is a disproportion between males and females, with the males being in the excess. This leads to some rather unorthodox pairings – Ornithologists studying a pair in one forest wondered why they built nests but never laid any eggs. A close examination revealed that both birds were males. We stand and watch our kokako for a while, unwilling to walk on and “scare” it away. After a short while it finishes its foraging and takes flight. We continue onwards.

The East Coast track is beautiful and wild. The path takes us along the top of the cliffs, showing us a beautiful vista of azure water, dotted with petrels and gulls. The birdsong continues to envelop us. It is sobering to think that once all of our forests rang with such a melody. Until mammalian predators reduced the bird populations. Chattering kakariki flash past us, disturbing by our presence enough to fly several metres down the path, only to take flight again as we reach them. These parakeets are a beautiful shade of green, wearing a “cap” of red. They are plentiful and personable. Quite popular as an aviary bird, especially overseas (permits are required to keep them in New Zealand), there are now more kakariki outside New Zealand than in it. As a hole-nesting species, they are greatly affected by stoats and rats which prey on the chicks, the eggs, and the incubating hens.

Huge pohutakawa cling to the rocky cliffs. They are impressive enough in late summer, but must be quite a sight to behold when in flower. Along here patches of native forest give way a drier, more open landscape, with large swathes of grass. Something blue/green stalks through it and I freeze, hopeful of another rare sighting, but alas, it is only a pair of pukekos. I had hoped it would be their rather bulkier cousin, the takahe. Still, we have a way to go yet – I am sure to see one of these sumo-wrestler like rails.

The path takes us into a small valley and across a wooden bridge. A huge tree dwarves the landscape and many birds flutter about in its branches. Alas, they are slightly too far away to identify. Once again it is Tim that drags me away from peering into the trees and directs me towards another bird of interest. Its body is a dull olive-green/brown, but its head is pure black, with a white fleck behind its eye. A male hihi, also known as the stitchbird.

As exciting as it is to see this extremely rare bird, that has always been one of my favourites, I am also a little mortified at myself. I consider myself the Twitcher in the team – and twice now my husband has outstaged me.

The stitchbirds prove impossible to photograph, and after observing them for some time, we continue onwards.

After a time, Fisherman's Bay comes into view. It is a secluded haven with a small, sandy beach. A trail of large rocky outcrops leads out to sea, shaping the bay. A boat lies at anchor, its passengers swimming and playing on the sand. We do not descend, but make our way around the headland.

A water resevoir comes into sight, and a few steps later, something large rustles in the bushes. Can it be? It is – one large, plump takahe. A short distance away comes another rustling, his mate, and beside her a rather sizeable ball of black fuzz. The two adult birds watch us, trying to decide if we are a threat to their baby. After attempting, without success, to capture the family on film, we creep around them. If mum chooses to get aggressive, I don't want to be her opponent. Takahe were considered extinct for 40 years, until rediscovered in a remote valley in Fiordland. Most of the species are now in captivity or on predator-free islands like Tiritiri. With a slow breeding cycle and poor parenting skills, they are easily outclassed by their slender cousins, the pukeko.

We soon arrive at the lighthouse, home of the Visitor Centre and our lunch. Lunch is accompanied by sparrows – the first sparrows I've seen on the island. A saddleback scratches through the leaf litter nearby. We have seen many saddlebacks on our walk – these noisy birds seem largely untroubled by our presence. Bellbirds sup from the supplementary nectar feeders, whilst kereru watch on.

After lunch, we take a leisurely stroll down the Wattle track. Despite the huge amount of foot traffic, the birds around here are a lively, noisy bunch. Water troughs provide a quick dip for the birds, and entertainment for us, as two tuis splash merrily away. A robin swoops down to peck up any insects we might have disturbed. He's a bright and friendly chap. Some of the volunteers rake up leaf litter to help him find an easy meal.

Further down the path a family of brown quail sunbath on the path, until disturbed by a family with small children. The brown quail is an Australian import, introduced to New Zealand. A few years ago there was a bit of excitement about these birds – it was thought they might be remnants of the New Zealand quail population, considered extinct. Alas, genetic testing proved this was not the case. However, in the absence of their long-lost cousins, they do fill the habitat niche neatly.

Back down at the Tiritiri wharf, Greg is doing the rounds. Greg is a very inquisitive takahe. Hopeful for handouts, he patrols the groups of assembled humans as we await our departure. Unfortunately for Greg, the visitors have all paid heed to the many signs and instructions to not feed the takahe. He is forced back to eating his natural diet – dry grasses.

And so we board the boat once more, sending the assembled terns spiralling away into the air. As I sit and watch Tiritiri Matangi receed into the distance, a near-perfect avian paradise, I mourn what we have lost and celebrate what we have preserved.

Earthquake in Christchurch

You may have heard that on the 4th September there was an earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand, measuring 7.1 magnitude.

We were right in it. And it was FREAKY! It was a cold morning and there was a loud BOOM and everything started shaking. We bolted out of bed and jumped under the door clutching each other as the floor rolled beneath us like a boat and things went crashing down around the house (all our tall book cases fell over) and it just went on and on... For almost a minute. Then silence, puncuated by car alarms sounding all over the town. It was 4.35 am. We fossicked for torches and inspected the damage by torchlight before huddling on beanbags with blankets in the doorframes for about an hour before going back to bed. There are constant aftershocks - ranging from barely noticeable to magnitude 5.3. We took a walk around the neighbourhood - lots of fallen chimneys, and burst water pipes and a number of collapsed buildings.

These are the ones in my neighbourhood:

(some of these structures have already been demolished)

My family and friends are okay, and suffered surprisingly little damage. But several suburbs are under mud, with sinking houses and anyone living in an old brick house may face it being condemned. It's surreal driving around the city - most houses look fine from the outside, but then you'll suddenly come to a block of shops that have "pancaked". The aftershocks are taken their emotional toll. Noone has had much sleep, we're constantly tensing up and people are liable to snap at a moment's notice. In the last four days we've had well over 100 aftershocks. These range from barely noticeable up to 5.6, but it was yesterday morning's 5.1 that actually caused the most alarm. Because it was very shallow and a lot closer to the city, it truly felt like the big aftershock they've been threatening.

So please, send your thoughts the way of my humble little city. Not just me - I'm fine, but those that have lost their houses, their livelihoods. It is a miracle that noone lost their life.

Animal Faces

Here's something a little different.

Photographic ATCs!

Printed and mounted for the "Animal Face Photos" swap on AFA. I had to look through my archives for these.

* Ruffed Lemur (Perinet, Madagascar) 2007
* Cassowary (Daintree Zoo, Queensland) 2010
* Bush Stone-Curlew (Daintree Zoo) 2010
* Kookaburra (Rainforest Habitat, Port Douglas) 2010
* Kaka (Mount Bruce, New Zealand) 2008
* Crocodile (Daintree Zoo, Queensland) 2010
* Pelican (photographed in Wellington Zoo, but native to Queensland) 2008

I am also working on my latest Reading Group cards. If it stops raining this weekend (haha) then we shall be going on a sign-photographing expedition for another photography shot I am participating in. I have enough sign photos now - but most are from Hawaii and Queensland.