Feb: A New Kiwi Bird (but not a Kiwi!)

From Auckland’s Ponsonby Road to the Northern Motorway is a short but intricate journey, especially when night makes street signs hard to see. I think I managed a reasonably direct route and so found myself bowling over Waitemata Harbour and then up the North Shore district. For this the darkness wasn't a problem and I soon got on to the Albany road. Then the lights ran out and navigating to Coatesville became a challenge.

Finding the home of my old Bristol University friend, Tony, was even more so. I had to get out of the car a couple of times to search out house numbers. Just ten miles from downtown Auckland I seemed to be in the bush.

I always get there in the end though and Tony and his exuberant dog greeted me. I had worried about recognising him after thirty-odd years. I needn't have. The fellow facing me could have just stepped out of the JCR at Wills Hall, circa 1975. Life down under had clearly suited him.

I met his wife, Kathy, a northern lass – well, northern from my Winchester perspective – and unloaded what I needed from the car when an unexpected sound broke the air. My New Zealand bird guide describes it as “more-pork, more-pork”.

I don't know. Perhaps I never hear these things the same way as others. Anyway the bird was easy to identify as an owl and on the North Island that means only a morepork. OK, I guess if you're going to hear the call that way, why not use it as the name? It works for chiffchaff; it works for hoopoe; and doubtless many others. It worked for me that night – lifer number 1046. ⇐ ⇒

Auckland, Feb 2009

My second time out of Melbourne airport, without any great drama on the fire front but visibility was still poor, so God knows what route we took. Our descent into Auckland was clear enough despite the intricate topography of the area. Then I had to clear bio-control again. I do it voluntarily: I don't want to be spreading yet more noxious aliens around the world. I got my boots cleaned for nothing. OK, maybe I'm not that altruistic.

So, out into the terminal, where Beryl was waiting. She had flown in from Sydney an hour before, 12,000 miles and more than half a year from our last meeting. Doesn't the world seem such a small place? We picked up the car I had booked and headed for her hostel. I only managed to stall the motor a couple of times before remembering it was not automatic.

Beryl navigated us just fine into the CBD, then we went a little wrong. Roadworks didn't help, nor did various streets with pretty much the same name, but we got there. Then on to Burger Fuel and a very good burger, as the name would suggest. The helpful locals down Ponsonby Road recommended it although how sober they were is doubtful.

I had to get on to my old Uni friend, Tony, up in Coatesville, so our meal was brief, with just time for the one photo call, as shown. ⇐ ⇒