TheBanyanTree: Close observation of the kiwis on their own ground

[Peter Macinnis]

We have just been in centres that are sulfurous, trotting around 
bubbling gloopy boiling mud, wandering safely past sullen geysers, 
tiptoeing past wisps of steam emerging from bushes and contrary to 
safety instructions, dabbling hands close to hot water that might have 
been boiling, but only after close and careful observation of things 
like insects on the water's surface.  Some of them were hopping around 
happily on water that was just too hot for comfort, around 65C, about 
150 F.  Such is the training given to science undergrads when we were 
young and thermometers were expensive.

Our daughter advised us against staying in Rotorua, on account of the 
sulfur smell.  What a good daughter she is!  We swam in lake Taupo 
afterwards: it draws water from the snowfields of an active volcano 
called Mt Ruapehu: the water ought to be freezing, but thermally warmed 
and sulfur-free water oozes in on the edges of the lake, making it 
around 21 Celsius, around 70 F.  Not bad for 37 south and 360 metres up.

No matter, we are back in Auckland, having driven up from Taupo this 
morning, stopping in Cambridge for breakfast.  This is my third 
Cambridge, and I am thinking of collecting them, but I don't know 
whether to keep them in cages or just to press them and store them in an 
album.  We had stopped there for lunch on the way down, and were heading 
for the same place when we were side-tracked by a place that looked nice 
and had a courtyard in the sun.

Getting there had entailed a lot of driving on the "Old Taupo Road", 
past sunny green hills covered in Friesian cattle--we can't get over 
with how close together they can pack them here and not destroy the 
pasture.  Bends and corners were the order of the day, and much of the 
country could have passed for Britain.

We also drove between the Waikato River and a massive fault escarpment, 
and noticed that they still have an active civil defence organisation 
here, mainly to deal with matters seismic.  Auckland is completely 
pocked with old volcanic craters which were mapped in 1859 by a chap 
named Hochstetter, who is an interest of mine, because back then, 
Austria had a navy, and he arrived on 'Novara', and obtained permission 
to stay for a while.  He got around, because at Orakei Korako yesterday, 
we saw "Hochstetter's Cauldron", and he left his name and that of his 
emperor on glaciers in the South Island of New Zealand.

Anyhow, I digress.  The cafe that we chose had a marvellous collection 
of teapots:teapots in the shapes of elephants, Friesian and other cows, 
sheep, cottages, decorated pots with flowers and many more.  From 
another list, I have learned that while we, the British and the New 
Zealanders all make tea in teapots, many Americans call the thing they 
boil the water in "a teapot".

We and kiwis heat our water in a "jug", meaning a hot water jug.  The 
originals were ceramic and had a wound-wire coiled element that could be 
removed and replaced, or when it broke, could be stretched so the two 
ends could be tangled.  Being a bit shorter, it drew more current and so 
boiled faster, and in the end, it began to blow fuses, and had to be 
replaced.  It was a great way for youngsters to learn the basic of 
electricity--luckily, the jug could not be opened to access the works 
until the power cord was removed.

That said, Chris and I and many of our generation will speak of putting 
the billy on.  The billy is the traditional Australian quart-can used to 
make tea in, and named for the Scots "billypot", they tell us.  Most 
foreigners these days only encounter it in 'Waltzing Matilda', but the 
name travelled over the Tasman to New Zealand.

Australia has creeks in the American sense, because we obtained the name 
from those in the First Fleet with American experience--some of the 
soldiers, some of the convicts, quite a few of the naval people.  Given 
that New Zealand was settled from Australia, we expected to find creeks 
here as well, and we did, indeed, find a creek today, but most of the 
small water courses are called something like Waikikamukau Stream or 
Polyputaketalon Stream.

No, neither of those is real, but they are not unlike the real names.

Tonight, we demolished a nasty prickly rose bush that has been trapping 
the grandkids: I cut the stems off, one by one and snipped them into 
small bits, suitable for wrapping and binning. Brianna, now almost four, 
has a strong interest in living things, and was fascinated by the 
spiders that came off the rose onto the snipping table.  She was 
enraptured when I found a small praying mantis and slipped it into my 
pooter, a small insect catcher, generally used for sucking up (without 
inhaling) very small animals, though at a pinch, it can be used to 
imprison larger beasties.  It will stay there overnight, be photographed 
in the morning light, and then, she has told me, she will let it go.

The genes are holding up.

-- 
peter macinnis
Auckland, in the North Island of New Zealand