Whitemans Valley

Whitemans Valley

Training for a half iron man takes time and energy especially as the event gets closer. I had a big day to get through which included a 2.3k pool swim, a 100k bike ride and a 5k hilly run. One good thing was that the weather was calm, fine and mild. I had to seize the day as spring can throw up rough weather indeed. After the swim I chose to do my ride from Petone Foreshore. From here I could avoid traffic by taking the Eastern Hutt  Road to Wallaceville, then head into Whiteman's Valley. I would also avoid hills, a hard thing to accomplish in Wellington. The wind would be in my face on the way out, but push me home when I needed the support most. The one hill I would have was the one to get me into Whiteman's Valley but I had done it plenty of times before and knew it to be a steady climb and not too strenuous.

I parked by a dairy and headed first out along the coast to Eastbourne as otherwise I would not accumulate enough kilometres. It was a pleasant ride and finally I could feel some warmth to the sun as I cruised to the end of the village then made my way back again. For a while I had a designated cycle lane as I headed to the Eastern Hutt Road. This is a rare commodity in Wellington but as we have just re-elected our cycling mayor for another three years I live in hope we will gain more. New Zealand is slowly creating cycle trails and a new one has just been opened in Wellington using river trails and an old railway to get to over the Rimutakas to the Wairarapa. I look forward to giving it a try on my mountain bike.

The traffic was light and well behaved however, and I made my way to Wallaceville without incident.
I wound my way up the one hill and stopped at the top. Several chickens live in this spot and I saw them pecking and scratching by the roadside as I had a snack and admired the view. Whitemans Valley is a magic place away from the city. It is a soft and gentle area lightly scattered with houses tucked up driveways amongst mature trees. Many areas that surround Wellington are rugged, steep and over grown with gorse. Whitemans Valley was at its best - lush green and fertile with cattle, cows and sheep grazing contentedly in the warmth of the spring day.

Cattle in Whitemans Valley

I got back on my bike and focussed on keeping up some speed and not just drifting along. I poked my nose up a couple of side roads to ensure I would reach my goal of a hundred ks.

One of the little side roads

As I cycled along out of the corner of my eye I saw some movement. I had disturbed a couple of wild deer and they were racing alongside me. First one got in front of me, leapt the fence with amazing agility onto the road and then with a bound leapt the fence on the other side of the road and disappeared into a patch of bush then the second, a little smaller, repeated the feat. I did not have time to react but they had calculated well and were about twenty five metres ahead of me when they crossed my path. They were lovely graceful animals, both hinds. Unfortunately they have become pests in some areas since they were introduced by settlers and damage native forest.

It was near here that two deer leapt across the road in front me, vaulting the fences with ease

A little further on the road was blocked by a farmer driving his cows to milking. I chatted to him as I waited and found our one degree of separation. He had worked in Taranaki where I grew up and we had many acquaintances in common. He owned a dairy herd but not a farm so share-milked for a living. His cows ambled along in no hurry as they crossed in front of me, staring as they went. It took about ten minutes for them to finally make their way to the opposite paddock and head to the milking shed.

The roads were quiet, flat and easy to negotiate

I continued on my way and saw a bright flock of Eastern Rosellas in the bush nearby. These are another set of intruders which have made themselves at home at the expense of our kakariki, or green parakeet. I made my way out of the valley via the Blue Mountain Road, a steep and windy descent into the Hutt Valley. At the bottom I turned left and retraced my steps to the Petone Foreshore.

Kakariki

Eastern Rosella

Once there I put my bike on the back of the car and set off on my five k run. My legs did not have a lot of run in them. The first couple of ks were definitely more of a waddle but after that my muscles relaxed a little and I could gather some pace and rhythm. I chose to forgo a hilly run and instead ran around a grassy park until the app on my smart phone called Run Maker informed me my 5 ks were up.

'Thank goodness for that,' I thought, as I collapsed into the car. I would be glad when the race was over and done with in six weeks time but I was pleased I was coping alright and at least the training has taught me how to swim distances, something I have never managed before.

Sheep grazing in Whitemans Valley

An Interesting Night Tour.

A little spotted kiwi or kiwi pukupuku

I was on duty for the Zealandia by Night Tour. On arrival things were a little different than normal. The wind was blowing fiercely - well actually that is normal for this time of year. What was different was that there was a conference under way and they were at the relaxed part of their get together. Most of the attendees were in the valley but there was plenty of evidence of their recent presence. Half filled wine glasses were on every available ledge and there was a fruity alcoholic aroma prevailing. As they could not take their drinks into the valley they had deposited them wherever there was space in the visitor centre.
Our tour group arrived. They were a very serious group of Germans accompanied by a translator. We welcomed them and headed into the exhibition area. My job was to turn on the movie when requested. I went upstairs, checked things and waited for my cue. I looked up at the large panel with a mural on it where the movie is always screened. Nothing was moving. I began to get concerned. The mural usually has some swaying tree ferns and a flock of birds fly past at intervals. The were two tours this night and the other Tail End Charlie appeared. He went to check the computer and found that things seemed to be frozen. I descended and signalled to the guide not talking. He thought it was OK so I went back up. Next thing the other guide arrived and we tried to start the movie. It was a no go - definitely frozen. I shot down to the guide who was gathering people ready for the start and signalled with the 'throat- cut' sign that the movie was not going to happen. The very serious group seemed to accept this without questions and we decided to head out to the Valley.
We gathered by the door and the group were checking their bags for unwanted vermin (a ritual we go through every time we enter so as not to compromise our pest free status) when the conference group happily and noisily re-entered the visitor centre and tried to re-acquaint themselves with their wine. Our serious and silent group held their ground and stared at the rowdy bunch who were non plussed  about what to do. I carved a channel for them by herding the silent group to one side. They seemed to accept this without question and once the other lot was in we led our lot out.

It was a big group but the visitors were quiet and serious. We now use ear phones so every one can hear the guide - or in this case the translator. We saw all our usual suspects - shags, takahe, kaka and tuatara. Tuatara are becoming more visible now it is warmer. We heard a call from the other tour group that Flip Flop the kiwi was at his usual haunt so made our way quickly to the spot where we could observe him. He put on a good show probing for worms and pottering about. When he disappeared from view the guide turned and pointed towards the nearby bridge which Flip Flop uses to cross as part of his routine. As we stood and watched I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. I turned and one of the tourists pointed to my feet. There was Flip Flop almost sitting on my shoe. Careful not to frighten him I signalled to the guide of his presence by whistling instead of using the speaker phone or calling out. No reaction. Now my whistle is a weak and feeble affair but I was sure it must of carried to him and I could not understand why he did not respond. I whistled and whistled again. Some of the group turned and watched Flip Flop as he continued to potter around my feet. We had a lovely view of him while the guide continued to talk and watch the bridge. Finally Flip Flop ambled into the bush and headed towards the bridge. The guide spotted him and pointed him out to the people around him. They remained stoic and silent. The ones who had watched the kiwi near me did not mention it to others.

We headed up a track and were exposed to a wonderful glow worm or puratoke display. They had been knocked by the drought and it had taken all of winter for them to return to such a brilliant display. I hoped the group appreciated them but again there was not a twinge of emotion.

On the way out we saw an eel in the creek, the Maud Island frog and another kiwi beside the track. A kiwi called out almost next to us, loud and piercing. We saw a large tuatara by one of the gates -well the ones at the front of the group did. There did not seem to be any desire by the group to make sure everyone saw it. They remained polite, silent and serious. As I passed I shone my torch to spotlight the tuatara for those who had not got a look in as those in the front had not shifted to allow them a view. My little group watched for a while and finally I got a quiet 'thank you' from a lady who had never managed to get to the front of the group.

We made out way out and the group left in their van as silent and as serious as they had been when they arrived.  The conference party had gone and any evidence of wine glasses had disappeared. I asked the guide why he had not responded to my whistle when Flip Flop was pottering by my feet. He looked surprised. He had thought it was one of the group making annoying noises when he was trying to talk. I pointed out that that was going to be very unlikely as they were one of the most unresponsive groups we had ever had the pleasure of showing around.

We hoped the group had enjoyed themselves but we would never know.

A night tour

Flip Flop the Kiwi

The Story of Flip Flop

Squatters!

Ruru in residence

My buddy was checking our kaka nest boxes. The first had five fine kaka nestlings and a very proud mother. The next box was a bit of a surprise. At the entrance sat a sleepy looking ruru or morepork, New Zealand's only surviving owl. This is one species which has done very well in recent times with new food sources such as mice. It is not endangered and makes its home in patches of bush. It nests in tree cavities and lays two or three eggs.

Kakas only.  Rurus need not apply

It flew away and upon checking inside no eggs were found. Now these nest boxes are specifically for kaka and not for ruru as there are plenty of natural places for them to nest. To prevent its return my buddy created a lattice work of twigs over the entrance to keep the intruder out. No such luck!  When she returned three days later only one twig remained probably due to the nosiness of kaka, the ruru once more came out and there was a perfect round ruru egg inside.

One twig left but enough room for a ruru to squeeze in

A perfect ruru egg found inside

Mrs Morepork, or Ruru is now firmly ensconced in her chosen home.

Defeated, she removed the last twig and reported her findings. Since then I have visited twice and now there are two eggs in the nest and a very determined mother presiding over them. As there are spare nest boxes for kaka the squatter has been permitted to stay and raise her family. So in a few weeks we will have the pleasure of watching baby owlets grow and develop, an exciting prospect for me as I am very fond of our little endemic owl.

Mrs Ruru popping out to see what's going on

And now there are two.

                       
                               Sneaking up on Mrs Ruru

I pine for the larger owl endemic to New Zealand, the Laughing Owl, that became extinct with the arrival of humans. They were still around when European settlers arrived, then rapidly declined and are now considered to be extinct. It had an unusual maniacal call which sounded like laughter. There was a North Island and a South Island variety but now alas they are gone for ever.

The now extinct whekau or laughing owl.

The whekau nested in rocky crevices on the ground.

A stuffed laughing owl. If only it was still around to laugh

The whekau was becoming ground dwelling as its ability to fly reduced .

Baby Boom

Our eggs arehatching and our babies are booming.

My buddy checked our nests last week and now we have five fine fluffy babies. At least we think it is five-it has hard to visually separate the little scrum of bodies into the right number of heads and legs. Our first photo snapped was of a just hatched wee chick one of the youngest so far photographed.

The karuhiruhi or pied shags which nested so close to the pontoon have produced three chicks each and if you are patient you will get to see them as Mum shifts or feeds them.

Tiny pied shag chicks.

Photo:

by Bill Beale from Zealandia's web site: http://www.visitzealandia.com/

Only its mother would love it?  Photo by Bill Beale

One kaka baby hatched and one kaka baby hatching

I can see four heads ..or is it five?

Another nest with two newly hatched chicks.

Kaka chicks huddle together for warmth when Mum is away.

 Ten day old kaka babies.Video by Alfie Kaka

I've got a wife and kids to feed, mate!

Doing the robin show at Zealandia has got more interesting. Usually the procedure is to show visitors how brainy these little guys are by showing how they retrieve a meal worm hidden in a log. They will continue to do this until they have eaten enough whereupon they will cache the last one in a preferred hiding place.

But now it is spring and the robins have breeding on their minds. They want to impress the female population. One of our little stars in particular has decided to perform only on his terms and one meal worm at a time just will not cut it. He usually eats one then comes back for another. At this point his behaviour changes. He collects the next meal worm then hops about, alternately looking at me then fiddling at the log. He repeats this until I get the message that he is not departing until he is given another meal worm. I oblige but he is still not satisfied. He will continue with his hopping and shaking of the leather leaf on the log until he has three or four lined up in his beak. Only at this point will he fly off, presumably to present his catch to his intended mate to show what a great little provider he is and what a wonderful mate he will be.

It is also interesting that he can still trill while his beak is full. In the video link below you can hear him singing - presumably to announce to any nearby female that he has what it takes.

The visitors are entranced by this tiny little bird's antics and he provides many photo opportunities. One other robin is also demanding more than one meal worm at a time but the others have not cottoned on to this ruse and are one meal worm at a time guys. Mathematically they have been discovered to be pretty clever and I feel this behaviour of demanding more gives another insight to their thinking. Not only do they understand the concept of more but also the idea that delaying gratification may lead to a greater reward, something that even humans can struggle with. Fascinating!

One meal worm

Two meal worms

Three meal worms - time to fly off and impress the Missus!

Robin refusing to depart until he has three meal worms to feed his family

Tulip week

I decided to plan one of my longer runs to include part of Wellington's Botanic Gardens as spring was well under way and it was Tulip Week. The Botanic Gardens has a wonderful display at this time of the year if the wind has not gone through it like a dose of salts.


I ran through Wilton Bush then headed back up onto the road to Kelburn. From there I dropped down to the Gardens. The tulips looked amazing as I approached. It was a beautiful day and the gardens were obviously the feature of an outing for residents of rest homes. There were vans carefully driving by on the wider paths and elderly folk were enjoying a walk a little distance away.


I was keen to join them but first I needed a comfort stop. As I entered the ladies I came across an elderly lady wrestling with a toilet door as she tried to enter. I helped her then went to my own cubicle. As I washed my hands I heard banging and scrabbling noises coming from the toilet next door. Having struggled to get in she was now panicking as she could not get out. I could see the 'Vacant/Engaged' sign twirling madly. I called out to her, convinced her to take things slowly and wrenched the door open when the vacant sign was in view. Flushed, (her I mean, though I suppose the toilet was flushed too), she staggered out saying that she though she was going to be locked in there for ever. I accompanied her out and made sure she joined her acquaintances. As I walked off to view the daffodils I could see her animatedly describing her adventure to her companions.



I spent a few happy minutes enjoying the brilliant tulip displays, thinking of a poem that was written by Laura Ranger when aged six after having attended Tulip Sunday.

A yellow tablecloth on a table with thousands of legs

                                             
 Tulip Sunday

In the Botanical Gardens
bright tulips
spread out
like a yellow tablecloth
on a table with thousands of legs.

Some tulips 
have red lips
and dark black eyes.
They bow and curtsy 
in the wind.

Red lips and black eyes

I finally continued my run, refreshed by my detour into a world of colour.

Thunder and Lightning

I was on duty at Zealandia acting as Tail End Charlie on a Zealandia By Night Tour. We had three Americans, two locals and two  visitors from Auckland.
As I arrived the weather started to deteriorate and I figured it was going to be a wet tour. The tour party was well prepared with raincoats and leggings and were keen to head out into the valley.
But first we entered the Exhibition to learn a little about New Zealand's history and our vision for a 'back to the future' scenario by creating a haven for our endangered species which have little defence against any mammal. I was upstairs operating the video when I heard heavy rain starting to fall on the roof and a couple of booms of thunder.

It was raining heavily when we left. In an instant my shoes and trousers were soaked. Usually I take leggings but for some reason it had not occurred to me this time, something I was rapidly regretting. My top half was fine. I had a  good solid Zealandia raincoat on plus a peaked hat to keep water off my face. The ground was already streaming with water.

As we approached our first stop, Bird Song Gully, lightning lit up the sky, followed by booms of thunder. Our American guests looked nervous. Seconds later the next rattling light show assailed us. Our guide asked the visitors how they felt about continuing. The Americans, who had a healthy respect of lightning storms said they were not keen. Two others were undecided and the other two wished to continue. We decided to split with me taking our our American guests back to the visitors centre. They would be able to attempt the night tour again in a couple of days hence. The rain poured down and the pyrotechnics continued as we made our way back to the safety of the centre. As we arrived at the gate the two undecided guests had decided to call it a day as well. We were a bedraggled lot as we entered the building and I fumbled around to turn off alarms and turn on lights.

I apologised for Wellington's lousy weather and sent them on their way. Actually thunder storms are not part of the usual bag of tricks Wellington throws at us and this was the first time I had been in Zealandia under such conditions.

I then headed back up the valley. A drain had blocked with leaves and a little river was flowing over the path. As I was totally drenched as it was I delved in and removed the debris to allow the
water to run freely into the culvert.

I made my way back to the guide and his two stalwarts amid clashes of thunder and a brilliant light display. They had arrived at the place where our most reliable kiwi Flip Flop hangs out. He turned up at about the same time I did and was totally unperturbed by the storm. We watched him using our red torch light which creates the least disturbance to night animals. The lightning showed no such consideration. During the flashes we could see the kiwi as if it were daylight. He went about his business, probing for worms and snuffling about with no concerns whatsoever.

Finally, after an hour or so things started to calm down. Our two visitors were very happy with their decision to continue on as they had seen kiwi in the wild for the first time. What was a bit of thunder and lightning compared to that!

Lightning strikes over the harbour