In search of the elusive whio, NZ's endangered blue duck
Tuesday, 7 March 2017
Once through the little village of Apiti, the Ruahines start to pull.
The road progressively rises and climbs, the hills drawing me forward, closer. Music blasting, gravel singing and the alpine clouds adding in some mystery.
My tramping boots are in the back and a good dose of optimism is in my thoughts. I'm going looking for whio, New Zealand's native blue duck, and I'll be in good company.
Department of Conservation ranger Malcolm Swanney is meeting me at the end of the road. He is helping with a whio survey with his No 1 sidekick and whio-finding wonder dog, Fern.
**READ MORE:
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Apiti isn't his usual stamping ground – the Whakapapa region is – so the feet I'll be following belong to Janet Wilson. She is the Oroua Blue Duck Protection Trust co-ordinator and she has a hut in these hills with a pretty marvellous view. There's a whole lot of nothing here that amounts to a heap of beauty.
Ian Rasmussen will be tagging along too. He's one of the dedicated volunteers at the protection trust and doesn't mind getting his boots wet.
The trio greet me and I can feel a quick assessment of my ability to keep up being made. I don't blame them; these hills are big, the river fast and they don't want the going to be slow.
Fern checks me out too. She is a german pointer and clearly ecstatic about living life and having a job to do.
She is impatient to get on and nudges our legs with her super-powered whio-smelling nose. A slow whine rises from her and Swanney laughs.
'She speaks fluent German, but only I can hear her, apparently. That was her swearing at me to hurry up.'
We head off, well actually down, towards a tributary running to the Oroua River, taking the quicker, bush-beating way.
Fern gets out in front and she is all business. Swanney is stuck behind me, so I take the opportunity to get the lowdown on whio.
Their population is down to around the 2500 mark, which is critical and 'bloody worrying'. They are an 'indicator species', meaning they like clean, fast-flowing water, so if there are whio in a river, then it's as clean as they come.
But right there is the first big issue. Water isn't as clean as it used to be and so the blue duck, revered spiritually by Maori and unique only to New Zealand, are literally struggling to stay afloat.
Something Swanney says as we hit an actual track at the bottom of Wilson's cutting slaps me with surprise. 'The whio are about 20 per cent more endangered than kiwi.'
I had no idea. The awareness around kiwi is big, but the word on whio 'needs to get out there', says Swanney, who I am now trailing behind. Swanney has very long legs that stride rather than walk and a sense of humour that is one step ahead of us all.
He came to his DOC job in a round-about-way. He was a farmer that, if he is being really honest, which he is, meant that he looked a bit sideways at what DOC did.
But he has always loved the bush, loved nature and being in it, and when he was offered a job, he took it.
'I thought, 'well if I don't like it, I'll leave', and I've been there for just over 10 years. DOC do a lot of good. We are just not great at saying it sometimes.'
The one thing he made clear at the start was that he would need a dog and Fern has been by his side for the past eight years. She was trained for a few years to find kiwi, using the natural instincts of her breed to sniff out the particular scent.
'We were looking for whio nests two years ago for the captive breeding programme and we were going along the river, the Whakapapa, and she started tracking along the bush about 200 metres and went on to full point and I said, 'we're not looking for kiwi', and I had a look and here's this whio sitting on a nest. This was up in the bush and I thought, 'how the hell did she know that?'.'
Fern, it was discovered, was a multi-dimensional sniffer and she went on to train to track the elusive whio as well. Swanney says he has learnt to trust what she tells him now.
'One time we were out at the Makatote Viaduct and there was this big steel girder thing coming out of the water and Fern was pointing at it and I said, 'oh, for Pete's sake Fern, there's not going to be a whio under that'. Fern said something back in German, which wasn't very polite, so I had a look and there was a blimmin' whio under there.'
The last time a dog came out to these parts was four years ago and the day-to-day keeping an eye out for the whio and managing the pest traps comes down to volunteers. Wilson has been doing her significant bit for about 5½ years and she has come to know the river and the bush over the years. 'I love it up here, I really do.'
And why wouldn't you? There is something pretty special about this stretch of the Ruahines. A remoteness that speaks of what was and what could have been and if we look after our waterways, what just might be.
It is thought that whio appeared at a very early stage in evolutionary history, an ancient species of waterfowl, and because of their isolation in New Zealand they have unique anatomical and behavioural features.
They are trusting and allow close interaction with people in their environment, which in turn makes them vulnerable. Flightless during the moult period, they succumb to attacks from stoats, cats, ferrets, and dogs.
We check traps on the way. Wilson knows every one of them. Some are even decked out in glitter and paint, a kindergarten project to get kids thinking early on about conservation. Wilson dives off now and again to clear them of any kill, catching up to our quick pace with some nimble bush-whacking.
We hit the water and Fern is in her element and so, it would seem, is Swanney. He plunges into the water, walking against it, his trusty stick becoming an anchor.
A long discussion on the merits of a good walking stick begins and within minutes Swanney has found me a suitable stick, which I become very attached to, very quickly.
Fern is way ahead of me, Swanney bobbing over rocks with an astounding speed, and I am thankful he is in bright orange. I crack on and catch up, expectant and hopeful that around the next bend a cluster of ducks will greet me.
There are many bends, but no ducks and Fern is not showing any real signs that she is on the trail of something. Swanney tells me she can pick up the scent of a whio from miles upstream, so it's not looking promising.
I'm wet and with the cold, disappointment creeps in. And then I just feel sad. Sad, that in this stretch of water I have not seen one whio.
And I should have. We all should. They should be here.
As we march back up the hill towards home, I pay a bit more attention to checking the traps and I look a bit differently at the trio that I troop along with. They are on the whio's side and goodness knows they need all the help they can get.
Fern gets a pat when we eventually get back to Wilson's hut. It's getting on and the clouds draw in over the hills as the sun eases itself down. I, too, travel downwards. The music isn't blasting, but my thoughts are.
It's simple, but huge. With clean water, more whio will come and that means with whio comes a better environment. These native ducks are a direct statement to the way things are and as I flick past the village again in a blink, I know that the way things are have to change.
There will be a Whio Awareness Month event from 10am-12pm on March 19 at the Victoria Esplanade aviaries, Palmerston North.