A man who loved nature: Rowan Emberson 

Rowan and I were together for 34 years.  Those years were the best of my life, and I can’t yet imagine a future without him.  Rowan and I were fairly self-sufficient.  We spent a lot of time in each other’s company, often on our own.  We shared interests and had a similar outlook on life.  More than that, we had a compatibility that made it easy for us to encourage and support each other to achieve much more than either of us could alone.  Rowan’s temperament was more relaxed than mine, so he smoothed off some of my rough edges, while I provided the drive he sometimes needed to realise his ambitions.

I think that Rowan and I complemented each other in a number of ways.  When we worked together, I was ‘big picture’, he was detail.  His approach was organic, mine more regimented.  Rowan often complained that I was too analytical, that when I asked how he felt, or why, he couldn’t answer.  He just ‘was’.  But he understood me far better than anyone else I’ve ever known.  With Rowan, I felt truly accepted for who I was, hackneyed, I know, but essential to being fully oneself.  He encouraged me, delighted in my ‘difference’ from other people.  He never wanted me any other way.  He may sometimes have been uncomfortable with my behaviour, and would wish that I change it, but never did I feel that there was anything essential to my being that was awry.

I feel like I’ve just been tipped out of a kayak into a maelstrom.  My equilibrium has gone, I have broken my rudder, and lost my paddle.  I have been thrown up on a new beach downstream, am mending the rudder and making a new paddle, that won’t have the well-worn feel of my old, familiar friend.  There is no going back, only forward, into new waters and new adventures.  Rowan wanted me to go there, and was fully confident that I could do it.  He will always be with me, wherever I go.  On a practical level, he asked me to take some of his ashes to the top of a Colorado 14 thousand foot peak (more for me than for him, I am sure).  Beyond that symbolic gesture, his outlook on life will forever colour my own; his energy, enthusiasm, endless curiosity, freedom from cynicism, his compassion will influence me for the rest of my life.  I am immensely fortunate to have shared so much of it with him.

I wrote this very shortly after Rowan died, tears falling on the keyboard.  Just a couple of months later, everything is still raw for me. Rowan was not afraid to show emotion, and at times I was embarrassed by this.  I have learned, though, very late in life, that I should not have been.  So, hard though I knew it might be, I had to share this with you.

Emu

The emu (Dromaius novaehollandiae) is a large, flightless bird, in the ratite group, second in size only to the ostrich (found in Africa).  Native to Australia, the emu’s closest relative is the much more rare, and colorful cassowary.  New Zealand’s kiwi is another, slightly more distant, relative.

A few emus are farmed in New Zealand, but we also have an opportunity to see them in captivity at our local wildlife park.  The ones that I have photographed are at Orana Park, in Christchurch.  The emu is not endangered, so there is no rearing program for them here, nor are they likely to be the subject of a research project.  They are kept at the park so that people can observe them behaving naturally in an outdoor, semi-wild environment.

The birds often pace up and down along the fence line emitting a booming sound.  It is mostly the females that produce this noise, while males make a grunting sound.  An inflatable throat pouch creates the booming, which if emitted at high intensity, may be heard up to 2 kilometres away. 

On hot days the staff turn on a hose to create a temporary pool in their enclosure, which the emus use for bathing.  They sit in the pool, immersing their feathers, then stand up and shake off the water.  Although they can’t fly, emus can run very fast.  They have powerful beaks, so visitors need to be wary of getting too close to the wire.  In the wild, they should not be approached, as powerful legs and feet can inflict a damaging kick.

Emus’ soft feathers are very attractive, so it can be tempting to stroke them.  However, this is probably not an impulse to give in to!

Gorillas

Orana Park, a wildlife facility here in Christchurch, recently acquired three male gorillas from Taronga Zoo in Sydney.  They are western lowland gorillas, endangered in their West African homeland, and are part of an international zoo-breeding program.  

The oldest, and largest, Fataki (12) is a silverback, dominant over his much smaller younger brothers, Fuzu and Mahali (7), who are nevertheless inclined to tease their elder brother.  They chase each other around the enclosure and beat their chests, hooting loudly.  In spite of these apparent displays of aggression, gorillas are generally peaceful animals unless seriously upset.  They are great fun to photograph, the challenge being to keep the building and other unnatural bits and pieces out of the image. 

It isn’t too hard to get a nice portrait, but capturing interaction between them is a little more difficult, and I don’t yet have anything I’m happy to post (watch this space).  A dark, or black subject is always challenging.  Because the jutting brows obscure the eyes I find that I have to work hard to see them clearly, but lightening ‘shadows’ in the raw file in Lightroom helps a lot.

New Zealand blue duck

The blue duck (Hymenolaimus malacorhynchos) is an unusual duck, and a rare New Zealand endemic.  It inhabits fast flowing rivers and streams and nests on the ground, usually by the river.  So not only are eggs and ducklings vulnerable to stoat predation, but nests are frequently lost through flooding.

In 2002, a predator control program funded by Solid Energy was set up the Oparara Valley, where a few ducks survived.  The current management program is a joint effort between the Department of Conservation and Genesis Energy, and also involves local school children in rearing juvenile ducks to be released into the catchment.  From only four individuals in 2002, the population has now risen to fifty.

Blue ducks are excellent swimmers and totally at home in fast flowing water.  Their upper bill ends in a broad, fleshy, overlapping tip, which allows the duck to scrape insect larvae from rock surfaces without wearing away its bill.  The Maori name for blue duck is ‘whio’, the high-pitched whistling sound made by male ducks.  Although not easy to find, blue ducks are generally tolerant of people, and seldom fly. 

Clay Cliffs

Just pictures this week.  I have been away on a photography field trip, and then to a convention, so there was not a lot of time to add material here.  The field trip was to Otematata, in the Mackenzie Country, one of my favourite areas of New Zealand.  One fine sunny morning we visited the Clay Cliffs, near Omarama, and here are some of the pictures from that morning.

Waipu Cove in Northland

Waipu Cove

After our long hike, we caught the bus back to Auckland and hired a car for a few days to explore some of the parts of Northland we had previously walked through.  One of our favourite spots had been Waipu Cove, where in November, fairy terns had been on their nests.  Although they had finished breeding by late March, we saw a few on the beach, with other terns, godwits and oystercatchers.  I shall return another time with my telephoto lens for some photographs of the birds.

Debris from cyclone

Shells

Seaweed

Kelp attached to rock

However, the beach was littered with debris from the recent cyclone.  We picked through a large array of shellfish, crabs and other sea creatures, some that we had never seen before.  There were many different seaweeds including kelp with large pieces of rock attached, evidence of the violence of the storm.

Dunes at Waipu Cove

We stayed at Waipu Cottages and Camping, which borders a nature reserve protecting a stretch of beach along with the lagoon of the Waipu River behind.  From our tent, it was a short walk across dunes to the beach.  Shags nested in the trees bordering the lagoon.

Waipu Cave

We drove inland one day to Waipu Cave, which has attractive formations near the entrance.  There is also a walkway that goes through forest to a viewpoint looking out over the sea.  It is a magnificent coastline.

Sunset from Waipu Cove

Te Araroa Trail (the long path)

The hi-vis vests were useful on the road sections

Auckland Airport to Te Kuiti  

Te Araroa officially opened a couple of years ago.  It is a walking trail of 3000 km from Cape Reinga, at the northern tip of the North Island, to Bluff, in the south of the South Island.  We walked the first 600 km, from Cape Reinga to Auckland, before the official opening, so this time, walking from Auckland to Te Kuiti, we found the route a little better marked, and slightly better known.  We left Auckland on 5 March, and arrived in Te Kuiti on 17 March, having spent a day with friends in Huntly, and a day and a half in Waitomo sitting out the rain associated with a tropical cyclone.

Hinua Falls

Repeater Shelter, Hinua Ranges

Repeater campground toilet dwarfed by kauri tree

Sunset at Repeater camp

The terrain is varied: the route follows walkways, tramping tracks, footpaths, stop banks and road margins.  Consistently it takes in the high points along the way, so a light pack is desirable to make the ups and downs a little easier. For this section through the Waikato we carried 5 days of dried food for when we needed to camp away from facilities.  However, the wilder sections were relatively short, so we spent a number of nights in or near small towns where we could buy real food.

Tree ferns, Hinua Ranges

Misty morning in Hinua Regional Park

Stream in Hinua Regional Park

I was only able to carry my pocket camera, the Olympus XZ1, and without the separate viewfinder that I accidentally left in the USA last year, I found it difficult to frame good images in bright light.  I carried the camera on the belt of my pack, but even so, I found it more of a chore to take photographs on this kind of trip, so I don’t have such a good set of images as I would like.  As usual, my favourites are generally those that I took either at the beginning or the end of the day when the light was best.  It also helped that I had shed my pack by then.  As my blog is about nature photography, I’ve mainly selected photographs of natural subjects.

Waikato River at Rangiriri, where we stayed the night in the pub

Bindweed flower on a damp morning

Sunrise from our camp, below Mt Pirongia

A Wild Garden

I am fortunate to have plants growing naturally right on the doorstep here in our garden.  Although the original Marlborough daisies were planted here, they now seed readily and new plants grow.  They often germinate in a crack in a rock, and the tap root burrows down through almost impenetrable substrate to source water an nutrients.

The Marlborough daisy (Pachystegia insignis) grows naturally on dry, exposed cliffs and rocky outcrops in the northeast of the South Island.  I converted this image to monochrome to emphasise the lightness of the seed heads.

Photographing where you live

I have heard several photographers say that the best photographs are often obtained not in exotic locations, but close to home, in the area where you live, that you know well.  I am fortunate to live on the edge of the city, on the hills, and with a large garden.  So there are ample opportunities for exercising my camera.  Today I am posting just two images, different interpretations of windy weather that we've experienced recently.

Banksia and Eucalyptus growing in a garden on the Port Hills, Christchurch.

I took the first photograph in our garden on a slow shutter speed to show movement in the wind.  The second is also from the garden, and shows the approach of a southerly front, and the clouds are moving rapidly.  The cabbage trees in the foreground are being blown violently by the wind. 

Southerly front approaching, Port Hills, Christchurch

I am not pretending that these are high quality images, but being on the spot enables me to try out different techniques when the weather cooperates.  In this way I hope to improve so that when I am travelling I am able to take advantage of opportunities that offer themselves.

New Zealand Nature

Valley mist, from Amuri skifield

I am posting some images from nearer home this week.  Ten days ago, I went with a group of Nature Photography Society of New Zealand members to the Amuri ski field lodge, near Hanmer Springs, for a weekend of photography.  The conditions were excellent for sunrise shots on both Saturday and Sunday mornings; nor’west winds brought broken high cloud and great colour.

Sunrise from Amuri skifield

Sunrise from Amuri skifield

On Saturday, after shooting the sunrise from a ridge just by the lodge, we walked to the summit of Mt St Patrick.  The views and the alpine flowers were superb.  In the wind, mat plants (vegetable sheep as they are known locally) were the most suitable photographic subjects.

Haastia 

Raoulia and Haastia

I woke before dawn on Sunday morning to a dull, red glow outside the window.  So in spite of the strong wind that had battered the lodge all night, keeping most of us awake for much of the time, I got up to head outside.  My intention had been to grab a few quick shots and retreat indoors again, but the light was too good to ignore, so with camera on tripod I returned to the ridge where I had been the day before.  Fortunately I knew the way this time, so it wasn’t hard to negotiate the route in the half-dark.  The clouds were moving fast, and this was the last shot I took before the sun rose above the horizon.  At 1/20 sec exposure, those little red clouds must be moving in the frame, but fortunately it isn’t obvious.  The articulated screen on my camera was blowing in the wind, so I had to lock it down and almost lie on the ground to see what was happening.  The camera was low to the ground, and rock solid on the tripod, so the image is sharp.

Second sunrise from Amuri skifield

As the wind continued to strengthen, we decided after breakfast to clear up and head straight down the road.  It was calmer in the valley, although still windy.  We stopped to explore an old woodshed.  Also, at the beginning of the St James cycle way, we found an incredible field of gentians, in perfect condition.  Of course they were blowing violently in the wind, and I’m looking forward to seeing images from one of our members who, living locally, intended to return the next morning.

Changing weather, looking down to the Clarence River