Our occupation as ‘farm hands’
in the Bay of Islands was a job neither of us are likely to forget. Everyday
life on the farm involved charging around on quad bikes while chased by the resident
dog, trundling around in the tractor, and generally immersing ourselves in the
glorious subtropical environment.
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| A standard morning commute |
Toiling amongst the fields and
paddocks meant that we were brought (sometimes uncomfortably) closer to some of
New Zealand’s indigenous wildlife: Weta, enormous cricket-like beetles;
six-inch-long stick insects; bright green Mantises that would pray quietly on
your shoulder without you noticing; Cicada the size of mice, with a penchant
for waging kamikaze into your face, clattered loudly amongst the trees. Abound
with creepy crawlies, the bush and paddocks were a natural haven for birds, and
we worked in the company of herons, kingfishers, Amy’s beloved Pukeko, turkeys,
bright green Kākāri (parakeets) and the endangered Brown Teal duck. Though we
weren’t fortunate enough to see them, the local forests were also home to a healthy
population of Kiwi.
Just across the road was a
secluded bay with easy fishing where we found ourselves accompanied by
inquisitive Eagle Rays and Stingrays gliding by the water at our feet while we cast
in the quiet evenings. The waters teemed and danced with baitfish as Snapper
chased their prey, and we would watch as Mullet would spring rhythmically in gracefully arcs out
from the glassy water.
Only a few moments’ drive from
the farm, hidden amongst the hills of dense Mānuka (Tea Tree) and Totora stand some of New Zealand's most magnificent natural wonders: Kauri.
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| Enormous twin-bole Kauri looming above the local forests |
I’ve mentioned these
arboreal giants in passing before, but they’re deserving of much more. Growing
only in the country’s subtropical northern quarter, they’re a living relic of a
prehistoric New Zealand, where lack of human interference and introduced
predation meant that the forests could flourish without restraint. Sadly, the
immense Kauri forests were one of the main natural resources New Zealand had to
offer at the turn of the 20th century, and very rapidly the they had
sacrificed their timber for short-term economic growth. Today, these barely ten percent of these gargantuan
trees exist, and only in pockets of Northland, Auckland and the Coromandel, made all
the more special by their scarcity. We were fortunate enough to have one of the
largest and oldest remaining on our doorstep, a unique twin-bole kauri, thousands
of years old and reaching almost 50 metres above the forest floor. Several
other giant kauri exist in the country, the grandest and most visited being
Tāne Mahuta (Lord of the Forest), a 2500 year old behemoth near Dargaville, but
our local grove, tucked off the beaten track, was wonderfully quiet and all the
more personal.
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| Culvert pipe installation. More fun than it sounds. Honestly. |
Working on the farm exposed us
to dimensions of Kiwi culture that are easily missed as a tourist. Some aspects
we loved, and others took us out of our comfort zone. We were taken rather aback
when we were handed a duck - fully intact but for the signs of a shotgun wound,
and still rather warm – as a meal, and had to quickly learn how to gut, pluck
and butcher it. Hunting here is a big part of life, and Amy couldn’t believe it
when she saw two men proudly haul an enormous pig onto the ferry one day as she
went to Paihia. At times, the farm seemed like a boot-camp for masculinity,
where conversation rarely strayed from guns, chainsaws and engines, but we never minded, because we were a part of something we'd never been before.
Above all, I consider my time
up north as an education. Before, I’d
have barely known where to start if you asked me to put a fence up. Ask
me to install agricultural electric fencing now, and I’ll ask where your wire strainers are. I can now confidently wield a chainsaw, drive a quad bike, and even
install a culvert pipe. Okay, so they sound like boring skills, but the
experience was epic.
