by Des Hunt
* * *
With air in the tyres, a brush down and a general check over, the bike looked a bit more usable.
“OK,” said Jim, “let’s see if it still starts.”
It did! At about the eighth or ninth jump on the starter pedal it spluttered into noisy life. Jim was clearly pleased: the twenty years of caring for the machine had been worth the while.
“Ever ridden one of these things?”
“Yeah, once,” replied Robbie. He didn’t say it was one of the best times he’d had with his father last summer. “But it was newer than this. And it didn’t make so much noise.”
Jim switched it off. “Age and noise don’t matter. It’ll get you to Paradise and back. That’s if you can ride it. We’ll have some lessons after we finish the drafting.”
By lunchtime the lambs and ewes had been shifted to separate paddocks as far apart as possible on the river flat. Even though they were more than half a kilometre from the house, Robbie still found the noise hard to take.
Lunch was broken by the Rural Delivery van crunching up the driveway. Jim gave a little smile. “Better go and see why she’s called in. Must have something that has to be signed for.”
She did. A parcel addressed to Robbie Walker, C/- Jim Walker, RD 4 Opotiki. Robbie signed the slip of paper and carried it back to the house with the other mail. By the look on Jim’s face it was obvious he was the one who’d arranged it. Robbie put the lot on the table and got on with eating his lunch.
“Well, are you going to open it?” Jim asked impatiently, handing him a knife.
Robbie smiled. “S’pose so.” He cut the tape and lifted the flaps in slow motion. Carefully, he removed the contents. Then he couldn’t hold back any longer — he’d worked out what it was.
“Thanks, Uncle Jim,” he said, grinning widely as he unwrapped a bright metallic-blue helmet. He slipped it over his head and adjusted the visor and chin strap. “It fits just right,” came the muffled voice. “Thank you!”
“Consider it a late Christmas present.” Jim was also grinning widely. “I hope the colour’s OK. It was all I could get at short notice.”
Robbie took it off and studied it. He didn’t have to say a thing. The look on his face said it all.
* * *
When Price roared up to the house later on, his bike loaded with camping gear, he saw Robbie sitting on the farm bike, wearing the helmet. “You’re looking a bit flash.” He winked at Jim. “Maybe too flash for this part of the country. You might be taken for a city slicker.”
“Nah, no chance,” said Jim. “He rides like one of the locals.” Robbie doubted that. He mightn’t have fallen off during the lessons, but he’d hardly screamed around the paddock either. The old bike had a lot more zip than he’d expected. He found it a little scary.
“Good,” said Price. “He’ll need to if he wants to keep up with me.”
In fact, it was Robbie who led the way. Price followed, content to let the boy get used to the bike on the climb up the hill. Robbie quickly adjusted to the feel of the machine and was riding with confidence when they reached the top. They got off and took a break. Again Robbie heard the unknown bird. He turned to Price. “Is that a kokako?”
Price smiled. “I wish it were. But it’s just a local dialect of some of the tui. It’s very similar to kokako, though. I’ve heard them not far from here in Te Urewera National Park.”
For a while they stood, enjoying the sounds of the wilderness, before starting downhill.
The view of the valley wasn’t quite as beautiful as Robbie remembered from the day before. Something seemed to be missing, and it took him a while to work it out. It was the absence of sheep. Such lovely green pasture should have animals grazing. He’d brought his camera to capture the scene, but it wasn’t worth taking a photo until the animals returned.
After setting up camp, they did a walk round the bush line. It was a long job as Price moved slowly, with a slight limp. Twice, he stopped and rubbed his hand against his hip. Robbie realized the man was a lot older than he’d first thought. He was probably more than old enough to be his grandfather. He liked that thought as he’d never had a grandad.
While they didn’t see any more dead kiwi, that didn’t mean there weren’t any — their bush search was a long way short of a scientific survey. Price took a lot of interest in the three dead birds near the head of the valley. The two adults were now no more than skin, feathers and bones. There was no way of telling how they’d died. The chick was starting to smell, but as yet was free of maggots. Price studied it in detail, then placed it on the ground for Robbie to take a photo. “What mammal does it look like?”
Robbie was unsure whether this was a game or not. “A hedgehog?”
“Right! The body shape’s the same, the colours, even the whiskers.” He pointed to the hairs growing near where the beak joined the head. “But look at this.” He held up the head. “The nostrils are at the end of the beak — where the food is caught. No other bird has that, but lots of mammals have a snout with nostrils right at the end, including hedgehogs. The kiwi is the bird equivalent of the hedgehog. It even has a similar body temperature. And it eats the same food. Let’s see what this one’s been eating.”
He opened a pocketknife and cut into the body cavity.
“Looks like it was healthy enough before it died. No signs of parasites or growths. I don’t think they were sick birds.” Then he opened the crop. It was full of bits of insects, some plant materials and a few pellets. “Hello, this is strange.”
Carefully, he divided the pellets from the other material. Even though they were crumbly, they could be recognized as animal feed pellets.
“Someone’s been feeding them,” said Robbie.
“And probably a bit more than that, I suspect.” Price searched in his pocket, eventually fishing out a plastic bag. “I think I’ll get these analysed.”
“Do you think they were poisoned?”
“No, drugged. Three healthy birds wouldn’t be caught by a dog so close to deep bush. They only had to go in there a few metres and the dog would never have caught them. I think someone’s feeding them drugs.”
“But why?”
“Ah. Now that, my dear Walker, is the key question. One we don’t yet have the answer to — but we will. Before we’re finished, we will. Maybe even before this night is out.”
* * *
They lay under a kahikitea at the opposite end of the valley to where the kiwi had been found, and well away from the track.
“I hope there aren’t any possums up there,” commented Price. “I don’t like the thought of having a possum pee in my face while I’m in the arms of Morpheus.”
Robbie smiled. He liked the way Price used words. In fact he liked everything about him. He seemed to know so much, yet he talked to Robbie as if he was an equal. It was easy for Robbie to act like his old self.
“How did the kiwi come to be like the hedgehog?” he asked.
Price laughed. “Sounds like the makings of a Just So story, doesn’t it?” Robbie had no idea what he was talking about. “You know, the Jungle Book, Mowgli, Baloo and that lot.”
Robbie nodded — he’d seen the movie.
“Well the same guy wrote stories such as “How the Camel got Its Hump”.
Again Robbie nodded.
“So,” continued Price, “how did Kiwi get like Hedgehog? Or maybe it was the other way round. Either way, the answer is called convergent evolution —a big name for a simple idea. It goes back to the time of the early dinosaurs. Like all reptiles, they could only become active when the sun warmed their bodies. That left plenty of ways for other animals to have a chance to feed at different times to them. Two separate branches became warm-blooded. One lot so they could fly, the other so they could feed at night. They became the birds and the mammals. Some of them could do even both— feed at night and fly.” A morepork called as if to prove the point. They both laughed.
“The birds came first. Soon after that, New Zeala
nd became an island. That’s why we don’t have any native ground mammals. Things like the possum, rat, deer, stoat, and so on, have all been brought here by humans. In the rest of the world these mammals became what are known as the “dominant” animals. In New Zealand the birds developed much like mammals did in other countries. Convergent evolution: two very different animals ending up much the same.”
Robbie thought about that for awhile. “Do we have a bird for every mammal?”
“No, it’s not quite like that. But give me a mammal and I’ll try and give you a bird.”
“Sheep.”
“That’s easy. The seven species of moa would have grazed and browsed everywhere that sheep, cattle, deer and goats do now.” He paused for a moment. “What a shame they’ve gone. Imagine this valley with moa grazing here. What a great sight it would have been!”
Robbie thought about it. He had no problems imagining the flat covered in moa. That was one photo he’d definitely take.
He returned to the game. “Monkey.”
“Mmm. The kakapo, probably. All parrots are rather monkey-like, and one that can’t fly must be even more so. Though I can’t say I’ve ever seen one in the wild.”
“Lion.”
“Aw, that’s a bit unfair. Birds don’t have the teeth to become huge carnivores. Give me something smaller.”
“OK, mouse.”
“Ah yes, the mouse. I know that one, but it’s not a bird, it’s an insect. The weta. Their habits are just like a mouse, except they can’t breed as fast, not that they need to here in New Zealand.”
The game went on for a while longer until Price failed to respond to a challenge. Soon he was snoring.
Robbie lay on his back, listening to the moreporks, gazing at the stars and thinking of his father. He wondered if he had ever slept in Paradise. He felt sure he would have. He was beginning to understand how someone could get so upset at the thought of opening it up to tourists. It didn’t need to be changed. Paradise was great just the way it was.
Every so often he heard a string of high-pitched shrills. That had to be kiwi. He wondered what other things there were in the dense bush. Maybe there were some of the animals Price had been talking about. How could they say something was extinct when there was bush they’d never even searched? There could even be things humans had never known about. As the moon rose over the eastern ridge, his thoughts changed to dreams as he gradually drifted into sleep.
* * *
He knew it was happening as soon as he woke, sensing a bright light sweeping over his head. Opening his eyes, he saw a beam illuminating the valley. It was the headlights of a vehicle turning off the track.
“Price,” he whispered.
The reply was a snoring grunt.
“Price!” This time louder. After several tries he moved over and shook him. By then the lights were moving across the flat towards the dead kiwi.
Price sat up to see it better. “Has it just arrived?”
Robbie nodded, then realized he was almost invisible. “Yes.”
“We’ll just watch what they’re up to for a while.”
The headlights stopped moving and a light came on in the cab. Robbie could see it was an off-roader. It sounded like a diesel. A figure moved in front of the lights, then another. They could vaguely hear voices, but it was impossible to make out what was said. Then there was the screech of a whistle and a shout of abuse, obviously directed at a dog. Soon afterwards, the lights began moving again.
The vehicle crossed the river near the top of the valley and started crawling down the side towards their camp. Halfway down it stopped again. The headlights and engine were switched off. Torches headed into the bush.
“Come on,” said Price, “let’s find out what they’re up to.”
That was easier said than done. After sleeping on the hard ground, Price was almost a cripple.
“Damn! I’ll never make it,” he said, leaning against the trunk of the tree. “You go on and see what you can. Don’t let them catch you.”
Robbie hesitated. He was a little unsure about chasing unknown people through the bush in the middle of the night, by himself and without a light.
“Go on. I’ll be following behind. My hip will start moving properly soon.” A pause. “Here, take the torch. But don’t use it unless you have to. If there’s real trouble, just scream.”
I’ll be able to do that all right, thought Robbie.
The full moon was now high in the sky, bright enough to create shadows. Also bright enough for Robbie to be seen as he crossed the open space to the bush-line. He took the shortest route, running in a low crouch, as if that made him less visible. He fell twice — once on a small piece of driftwood, and once stepping in a hollow.
Robbie felt slightly better when he reached the scrub at the edge of the bush. There was now somewhere to hide. He stood listening for a moment. There were noises, but nothing he could identify as unnatural. He began to creep towards where the figures had left the vehicle. It was slow going. In daylight it would have been easy to dodge the logs, bushes and tree ferns. But in the shadowy world created by the moonlight it was almost impossible to know what was real and what was imagined. And right now Robbie had a very vivid imagination.
After tripping and crashing for several minutes he thought he must have gone past them. Then he saw the torches. They were mostly directed at the ground, and headed his way, about a hundred metres ahead. He decided to move deeper into the bush. It was better there than out in the open.
Straightaway the land became steeper and the going tougher, but at least now there were trees big enough to hide behind. Feeling safer, he kept moving until the ground was too steep to walk. The lights were now below him and to his left. There were two of them, and two other figures flitting across the beams. Dogs, thought Robbie. They must be the kiwi killers.
The lights stopped.
“There’s nothing here,” said a voice.
“There would’ve been if your mutts hadn’t killed them all,” said another. “Or if your bait had been more attractive.”
Robbie was hiding behind a tree trunk watching the lights move past him. He was beginning to feel safe. Trailing them would be easier than being in front. That’s when he heard the sniffing of a dog. It was close. Too close. Then it barked — a deep, loud alarm that could only come from a big animal. The torches swung back to point in Robbie’s direction.
The dog was in a frenzy now. Barking straight at Robbie, getting closer and closer. Then somehow it was no longer directed at Robbie. He could hear it scratching. Suddenly there was movement. A form scampered across a patch of moonlight. The dog followed, barking louder.
Robbie wanted to back away, but the torches were flashing everywhere. If he left his hiding place, he’d be seen. The dog kept barking. Then the other joined in — so loud it sounded as if they were on the other side of his tree.
The men crashed through the undergrowth. Soon they were right below Robbie with their torches pointed at the dogs that were jumping up at a huge tree trunk. The two men circled the tree until they found a black hole near the base.
It must be hollow, thought Robbie.
For a while the torches played around the hole.
“Ah, forget it. It’s only a possum,” said one of them.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. There’s too much moonlight for kiwi tonight.”
“They still have to feed.”
“Yeah, but they probably stick to the deeper bush. Anyway, it looks like we’re wasting our time here.”
They moved away from the tree. The dogs eventually followed, but not before they voiced their anger with another bout of barking.
“Shut up you mongrels and get in behind!”
A while later Robbie heard the diesel start and saw the lights moving away from the bush. Soon afterwards he heard Price calling him. He returned the call, and moved out of his hiding place
“What did you find out?” Price asked as they walked back towards the ca
mp.
“They’re definitely after kiwi. They’re feeding them bait.”
“That’s what I thought. I gather they didn’t get any?”
“No. They think it’s too bright for them to come out of the bush.”
“They might be right. What was all that barking about?”
“The dogs found something and scared it up a tree.”
“It’ll be a possum.”
“Yeah. That’s what they said.”
They returned to their sleeping bags. Again Robbie lay awake for some time, his thoughts returning to strange things that might live in the bush. The difference was that this time his images were better formed. He’d only had a glimpse of the animal scampering through the moonlight, but one thing he knew for sure: it was no possum. Possums had fur. This thing was completely bald. In fact it was like nothing he’d ever seen before.
Chapter 6
The morning was cloudy and dull, with a hint of rain. During breakfast Price decided there was no point staying in Paradise another night, saying they’d found out all they needed to know.
Robbie was surprised. “But all we know is that they’re after kiwi. We don’t know why and we don’t know who.”
“Oh, we know why all right. They’re trading in rare species. A kiwi’s worth anything up to a hundred thousand to an overseas buyer. Those three they killed the other night were probably worth quarter of a million.”
Robbie was amazed. He had no idea pets could be worth so much. “No wonder they were arguing about the dogs killing them.”
“Yeah. They’re not worth much dead. If you like keeping rare animals, you don’t get a lot of joy out of a stuffed one.”
“We still don’t know who?”
“Don’t we?” answered Price with a twinkle.
“Did you see who they were?”
“I wasn’t twiddling my thumbs while you were hiding in the bush like a scared rabbit. I got a good look at the vehicle as it drove away.” He paused for effect, filling his mouth with bread.
